CHRISTMAS-EVE IN A BELFRY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 1001, 2 May 1871, Page 3

CHRISTMAS-EVE IN A BELFRY.

.*. We were a merry party at Merton Grange, Somersetshire, on Christmas-eve — I forget the date, but it must be twenty years ago, at the very least. Uncle Goodman — or Uncle George, as we always called him — was a thorough specimen of an English gentleman of the old school —genial, warm-hearted, and hospitable. Indeed, the greatest pleasure of his life seemed to consist in making other people happy. . On that Christmas eve, the oaken parlour at the Grange presented its usual festive appearance. A huge wood fire blazed on the hearth— not that it was wanted, for the weather was almost as warm as June, but simply because the season demanded it ; the spacious room was festooned with holly and evergreen ; from a massive beam in the centre drooped a mighty bough of mistletoe ; and the richly carved walnut-wood sideboard actually creaked beneath the weight of good cheer it bore. For Christmas was always kept by Uncle George in jovial English fashion. I may as well say at once that my name is Willis Trotman ; and, at that time, I was a rising young barrister, vegetating in grimy-chambers in the delightful locality of Verulam-buildings, Gray's Inn. Uncle George was a widower, with three daughters. Emily, the eldest, was engaged to Jack Bates, of Merton Abbey ; Charlotte, the second, disengaged, officiated a*) her father's housekeeper; and Polly, the youngest, also disengaged — a little, merry-eyed, fair-haired, saucy girl of eighteen, who was an especial favourite of mine, and who delighted in teasing me whenever an opportunity offered. Bless her heart! bhe married an officer, after all, and went to the East Indies, where the climate soon spoiled her pretty face ; so they told me afterwards. But I can always see her as she was then ; and I shall love her to my dying day. " Polly," said I, as we sat down at the end of one of the dances, " how quiet some people are to-night ! I'll wager a dozen pairs of gloves I can guess what you're thinking about." " Some people are wonderfully clever, no doubt," she replied. " Pray, what am I thinking about, Mr Impertinence ? " " You're wondering how many times you'll be kissed under that mistletoe to-night." " You're an impudent boy, Willis. Whatever made you think of such a thing ? " " You're own bright eyes, Polly," I whispered. " If you talk like that, I'll never forgive you," she said, smilingly, as she tripped away. " Whew ! how tremendously hot it is," said Uncle George, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief, after going through some extraordinary evolutions in the dancing line; " Christmas-eve ! Why, I declare it's hot enough for July. Willis, may I trouble you to throw open the lawn door a little way, and let us have a breath of fresh air ? " I did' as I was told, and somehow— accidentally, no doubt— on sitting down again, I found Polly by my side. " Here you are again then," I whispered. " What a terrible tease you are, Willis. I didn't notice you were near me, or I would have kept on the other side of the room." "In what way has this unfortunate individual offended you ? " I asked. " Never mind, sir ! I am very much offended." " How do you lo.»k when you're offended, Polly ? " " Wil'is, you're an intolerable nuisance tonight—you are, indeed! But isn't it warm here ? " " Warm ! It's hot enough to bake one. What do you say to a minute or two's turn round the garden ? " " I should like it above all things," she replied." " Very well. Throw that shawl over your shouiders, and, the next move that takes place, we can slip out unobserved." In a short time the opportunity offered, and no one noticed our disappearance. " What a delightful night itis ! " said Polly, as we sauntered leisurely down the garden ; " look at that lovely moon — isn't it beau'iful ? " " Delightful ! " I replied ;" it reminds me of some lines I read somewhere, some time ago, written by somebody or other. Let me see, they're something like this— ' When the pale orb of Dian shines over the sea, Whon nature's reposing, reposing, reposing—'

What an idiot lam 1 I forget what comes next ; but I know the line ends with thee, or he, or she, or be, or something." "Cousin, you're very poetical to-night; but when you commence a quotation, you ought to be able to finish it. I don't feel at all cold, do you ? " " Not at all, Polly. For my part I think it vastly preferable to indoors." "So do I," she replied. Believe me, it's a dangerous thing for a young man to be walking alone with a pretty cousin by moonlight on Christmas-eve. By this time we had reached the wicket-gate that opened into the little churchyard adjoining the grounds of the grange. " Shall we stroll round the old church before we return, Polly ? " " I should like to very much. But perhaps we should be missed ; and whatever would people say ? " , " I don't care what anybody says," I replied ; " I don't care for anybody or anything but you, dear Polly ! " The moon was taking effect. " Willis ! don't be so absurd, or I'll go back at once ! " " Don't be angry with me, Polly. It's the moon's fault. The moon is to blame for it all." " So I should imagine," she replied, coolly; " sorry that I have been the means of sub- ' jecting you to its influence." • As we passed by, I noticed that the door of the church tower stood ajar. The bellringers had been there that morning, and had, uo doubt, forgotten to close it. So I opened it a little way and peeped it. "Polly," I said, "there's no one here. Wouldn't it be capital fun to run up the belfry steps, and see how the village looks from the top of tbe tower to-night ? The moon will give sufficient light through the loopholes for us to fiud our way up the stairs." " How delightfully romantic I What a char ming adventure for Christmas eve 1" she exclaimed. "Are you sure you'll not be frightened, dear?" " Frightened ! What at ? I don't believe in the supernatural, Willis," she replied, like the courageous little girl that she was. " But perhaps you'll catch cold ?" " I'm not afraid of that either. I'm as warm as a toast. Come along, Willis," And she began to ascend the tower. Halfway up, we came to an iron-bound door, which, luckily for us, was also open, or it would have arrested our progress. - " I say, Willis, whatever would people think of us if they could see us now ?" she cried, as we stopped for a moment to rest and take breath. Flap ! flap 1 flap ! " Tu-whoo ' tu-whoo ! tu-whoo !" And a large owl flew past us, evidently disturbed by our intrusion. " Oh, Willis, whatever was that !" she said, seizing me by the arm. " < Inly an owl, dear." " Is that all ? how the horrid thing frightened me !" " I thought that you were never frightened, *Polly." "Nofc by the supernatural," she replied; but owls do not come under that category." I A few steps more, and we had reached the summit, and were standing just beneath the bells. " Oh, Willis— Willis ! The view from here is enough to make any one' poetical 1" she cried, clapping her hands; " I had no idea that it was half so beautiful. Look at the lights in the village— look at the Grange — look at the shadows on the blinds ! I wonder if they've missed us yet." Just then there came a sudden gust of wind, followed by a loud bang. [To be continued.]