A CANADIAN IDYLL.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6138, 26 March 1898, Page 1

A CANADIAN IDYLL.

[Bt Jane Father Taylor.] (Canadian Magazine.) Life, I repeat, is energy of love,

Divine or human, exercised in pain, la strife and tribulation, and ordained,

If so approved and sanctified, to pass,

Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy.

" Peelings ! they haven't any. Those animals eat, sleep, breed and die, but never think or suffer mentally. No, my dear, from this distance the old creature is perhaps picturesque, but nearer — Nurse, Master John's coat. This spring air is deceptive." And the great lady of the district smiled contemptuously as she swept past the half-breed's cabin. Faded eyes followed the flashing carriage. They had rested deferentially on the proud, grayhaired grandmother, admiringly on the fair English girl beside her, but very tenderly on the baby sailor opposite them, an orphan like his own dear Manny, another autumn flower given by the good God to a lonely old body.

The evening Jbreeze rustled among tho leaves — silly, giggling things that summer heat would steady. The setting sun bathed the landscape with loving gentleness, turning the thousand hillside spring-streams to golden filagree. High from the hilltop the old church windows glittered through the lace-like locusts, and with each rijiple of air came the scent of wild plum blossom, the bleating of young lambs from the farther shore, and the measured thud, thud of distant paddle wheels.

"Guess this a'niost equals Heaven, Manny," says the old man, seated on the bench beneath the cabin window. " S'pose purty soon I'll be a'findin' out. You won't, not fur years an' years. -Faint often as early frosts nip our buds on th' south slope of th' hill. Reckon I'm your hill, ain't I, Manny ? "

The curly golden head bobbed solemn acquiescence, and the blue eyes, filled with childhood's unquestioning faith, rested adoringly on the furrowed, sweetly lined face.

" Did you see 'em pass t'-night with the stranger lady, Manny? The little 'un looked kinder peaked — hope he ain't a' sickenin' fur that blame fever the town's a' full of. Say, sun's gone, boy go put yer chicks in."

With all his loving old heart in his eyes he watched the lithe wee figure disappear among the fragrant currant bushes, then leaned his white head far back on the window-ledge, contentedly looking into the neutral dome, far, far above him. " All up there but Manny an' me," he thought. " Wonder why they came fur sech a short time. S'pose to make it feel real like a' goin' home— it's mighty queer."

Pattering bare feet came around the log house, and the sound of a grief -laden baby voice. " Ganp, two chuckies is deaded and mudder chuckies a' standin' an' a standin' jest lookin' at em."

All the land in flowery squares. Beneath a broad and equal blowing-wind, Smelt of thi coming summer.

On the following morning the old man rose before sunrise, and softly crept from the sleeping-room, noiselessly unlatched the door, and lighted the fire in the small stove standing — rural Canadian fashion — outside the kitchen entrance. As the maple sticks burned well and the clean, sweet-scented smoka rose high over the round tree tops, the old man raised from the cool depths of the moss-mouthed well a bucket containing butter, creamy milk, and a chicken, deftly trussed and golden from corn feeding.

With many a wag of the snow-white head and soulful chuckle, these were carried indoors. Soon the fowl was brought forth, its puffy little bosom modestly crossed by a "fichu" of salted pork, aud consigned to the oven. Then again into the cabin went the busy old man, where wonderful preparations went rapidly forward. At last, as the sun showed well over the hill, all was ready, and the happy worker passed in and awakened the sleeping boy.

" Wake up, Manny ! Wake up, my button, 'tis yer birthday, boy, and neighbour Morton lifts ns to th' high woods on his way to Belltown. Say, won't we just hey a time ! We'll hoy our dinner to th' woods and meet jgood neighbour to tho berry corner on his way home at evenm'."

Oh, the joyous excitement ! The wonderful drive, with glimpses of Sapphire Bay, the laughter at weak-legged calves who would stand in the road in spite of Manny's shouts — and then the feathery woods, deep with indefinite spring distance. How quickly they slipped between the silver-grey rails of the old snake-fence and plunged into the quivering green depths ! Banks of white, of palest pink, hazy intangible blue and purest gold on every side ! How Manny's short brown legs and little bare feet tossed about the hearts of tho wild ileetra — how gaily he shook hands with tho tender, tight closed fists of ferns thrust up through tlie rich black ihould, while from above came tho throbbing love songs of birds, mad with the joy of living, drunken with spring delight !

How the morning flew ! Then when the sun cast an eastern shadow came the great moment. Manny's wide blue oyes grew even wider — his tender, dewy lips fell apart with amazement— 'for was there ever such a feast ? Afterwards came his rest. Under the shaking fringes of a Canadian maple, upon a luxurious bed of springy moss, softly slept the backwoods Cupid, watched by the old man, until weary eyelids drooped, the corncob pipe fell from contentedly smiling lips, and happiness and peace reigned supreme.

For oil things havius life, sometime have quiet rest.

Four days have passed, and without the cabin all is strangely silent. Within sits a bent old man, agony in his eyes, white faced with grief and anxiety, as he eagerly looks into the burning cherub faco hO holds so near his heart. The short, sharp breaths grow fainter, as despairingly the heartbroken watcher waits for the deep curved lids to lift.

" Just onco, Manny love, look at yer old Ganp— fer he loves yer so — an' yer leavin' him alone, boy. Take me, too, God dear ; he's sech a little 'un to go alone." But never again on earth does he hear the baby treble or look into the deep blue eyes, for, as the old man bends downward, a strand of Manny's golden hair falls gently on the fever-darkened lips and remains — motionless.

At sunset the old figure takes its 'customary place on the bench beneath the window. Unknowing, tearless eyes stare into -the western sea of gold, higher into clear sheets of chrysoprase— still higher and backward into meshes* of rosy cloud, that throw a faint glory upon the stricken face. The lazy breeze stirs the heavy leaves of a balsam with a sound of pattering feet, a beautiful smile comes to those tightdrawn lips —

" Sun's gone, Manny, put ver chicks in, boy, and then— we'll rest— Manny— we'll

fall in scented showers through the open window ; lovingly they drift on a stall child's face, on the sill in masses, and mingle with the touch of baby fingers on those still smiling old lips — for God thought Manny " seoh a little 'an to go alone."