A VOYAGE WITH A SEA-GULL.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4562, 7 December 1882, Page 4

A VOYAGE WITH A SEA-GULL.

A NEW ZEALAND FAIRY STORY. Bx Johv-A-Dbkahs. [bpboiallt wbittbn job thb stab.] Ohaptbb IV. (Continued.) Of what followed I can give very little aoeonnt. I seem to remember one, if not, two days of delirious agony, during which tht) hot sun beat on my bare head, and I was maddened , withhungerand thirst. I have a vaguer onol lection of a ship, and a boat, of seeing the latter approaoh : of throwing myself into the water to try and reach her : and of being seized by the hair aa I was sinking. But whether I was indeed saved thus, or dreamt it afterwards ia my delirium, I cannot with any certainty say. When I did regain possession of my fasultiei, I was lying in bed in a cool room. The window was open, and outsido the sunlight played among the Urge leaves of somo etrnnge tne. I ielfc a hand on my pulse, and 1 >oked up. A tall man, with a gravo bronzed fnca, long aquiline no3o, and olean Bhaved, buo for a dark moustache, was bending over mo. ■■ Where sm I," I whisiered. I did not mean to whisper. I moant to Bpoak, but had not the strength. v Hush, in the American Hotel at Yokohama." •• How was I saved." "Tho boat reached you jußt before it was too late, but when you were got in they did not know whether you wore dead or alive. You have been ill for weeks. Now you have nothing to do hut lie still and get well. But you must nob speak. Above all things don't worry ycurself by trying to think." I obeyed his orders, for I neither wanted to speak nor think. To tell the trutb, my brain felt numbed, and my mind a blank. It was only gradually that the past came back to me. The dostor who waa with me told me his name was Faryier, an American, born in Boston, and settled in San Francisco ; over in Japan only for atrip. One thing I resolved, neither he nor any one should know my strange adventure. He seemed to know my name, and. all about me. This puzzled me, but on thinking it over I remembered that letters from my father and mother were In the pocket of the coat which I had been wearing. One day when I felt stronger I •aid to Ferrier, "Don't epeak to me about my illness, I have suffered too muoh." He replied quickly, "Certainly, ray dear sir, take my advico and think as little of it as possible yourself. After the miraoulouß manner in which you liave recovered it would be folly. Shake off the shadow." I winced a little. What could he know of the real shadow which had fallen over my life, I asked him whether he h»d communicated with my father. He ■aid yes ! and that a letter in reply was nearly due. In due course it came. A few lines from my father, enclosing a remittance, asking him to continue to tako ch'irge of me for tho present, and speaking in heart-broken termo of my long continued illness. To my surprise the leitar said nothing about my extraordinary dnpftvture from New Zealand. This was a relief. Perhaps my fathor had constructed a theory of his own to account for it, and I might yet be able to hide the truth. The firat thing to bo done was to got rid of Ferrier. This was nob so easy, for kind and companionable as he was, hs stuck to me like r* leeoh, and treated me with a oortain air of authority. At length he told me that he must think of returning to California. " I shall do so all the more readily, as J really think you can do without me," he said. " I will tell you candidly that I never expected to see you recover as you have done, but the faot is undeniable, ana you must lot me confratulato you, bs I bid you good bye." So c went. That afternoon I was Bitting in the baloony of the hotel, looking out over tho bay, when an American lady, who was living thero, stepped out on to it also, and caught sight of me. She turned, and looking through the folding windows, behind her, said something to a companion. I caught the worde, "The poor fellow they brought in from the sea." Then, I was conscious that she again scruti'ized me. Her kind, sympathetic oxproßsion told of a woman's pity for the weak and Buffering. She was tall, fair, and refined looking, I know it needed but a look or a bow from mysolf for her to advanoe and speak to me. But that I could not givo. For the first time the full ■ense of what I had lost came full upon me. How oould I, who bad ponetrated the unseen world, had seen myßelf a spirit, and viowed unearthly loveliness, find anything to care for in the common earth. I turned away my head, and held my thin white hands to my face, to hide tho tears whioh streamed down it. Presently I looked over the bay. Near •hore it was calm, and covered with craft and boats of all sorts and sizes. Further out a fresh breeze was blowing the waves into foam, and a single ship, making for the narrow passage between an island and the shore, waß running morrily beforo it outward bound. As I watohed the sun on hor white sails, tho old text oame into my head, " O that I had wings like a d jvo, for then would I fee away and be at rest." Yoo, I would wander the earth, and if, perchance rest was anywhere discoverable, I would find it. At any rate I would remain no longer thoro. This resolve I carried out. I wrote to my father telling him I had commonced my long proposed course of travel, and begging him to forward a draft to Ban Franoisoo on one of tho Banks there. In a week I left Japan, bound for America. Since then I have been a wanderer. I have not found rest, but I have not been altogether unhappy. If the world has seemed dull and tame to mo, and life but an empty dream, Ido not blame them. But you must not blame me. lam merely paying the penalty for having looked beyond tho veil a few years too soon. My life is therefore barren. But at least I have done one thing, I have seen tho siron, and I know what song ■hesang to Ulysses,