A MOST HONORARY DISTINCTION.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7890, 21 December 1903, Page 4

A MOST HONORARY DISTINCTION.

w The " Western Medioal Review," a medioal publication of the highest standing, says in a reoent issue : " Thousands of physicians in this and other oountries bave attested that Sander and Sons' Euoalypti Extract is not only absolutely reliable, but that it hag a pronounced and indisputable superiority over all other preparations of Eucalyptus." Your health is too precious to be tampered with j therefore, rejeot all produots foisted upon you by unscrupulous mercenaries, and insist upon getting Sander and Sons' Eucalypti Extract, tlie only preparation xecomniended by your physician and tb_ Medioal Proas. In coughs, colds, fevers, diarrhoea, kidney diseases, the relief is instantaneous. Wounds, ulcers, burns, sprains, etc., it heals without inflammation. As mouthwash (5 -drops to a glass of water) it prevents decay of teeth, and destroys all disease germs. 3

Women know when a gentle laxative is required. Most women know that California Syrup of Figs is the gentlest and most efficient. 8

lEfeflP _vi !■ M»wj m __^_«i««jga®gg2aa how money affairs were managed through banks. And when he had done so, he confided his scheme to the Scotchman, who, although disappointed, cordially approved of it, and stipulated for only a very moderate and strictly just rate of passage. More, he promised to keep the pair in mind, and, whenever possible, to call at their Tetreat, and see if he could be of any service. So that waa all 'straight! orward. And now what about Mary, who,^ after all, was rapidly becoming the principal figure in this obscure human comedy. Truth to tell, she had been all along a living proof that there are some children absolutely unspoilnible. Accustomed all her. conscious life, with that one dark interval, to unquestioning love, and almost without correction for childish faults, except for the gentlest reproofs, she was growing up gentle, docile and beautiful. She could not write, could hardly read, and what little she could do in tbat way was rapidly slipping away from her without any care or regret on her part. Yet she was 'by no means ignorant. John's long experience accumulating fn the vast storehouse of a sailor's memory might never, like that of the majority of seafarers, hove been drawn upon but for the spell of that baby heart. In answer to her pretty prattle he let 'down the bucket of xeoollection into the well of the past, and drew up for ber sole benefit sea-lore of all kinds, quaint, true and little known. So, es they sat hand in band for hours in this bliss of perfect confidence and mutual love, I think they were es happy as most people may be in this world. But John was ever craving for the time when their happiness should be yet more complete. That in this he was selfishly forgetting her future, when in the course of nature lie must die and leave ber< alone in that tiny island paradise of his dreams, never occurred to him, nor had it done so do I think he would have understood it. For even with the greatest love to animatej men as primitive a 6 John are seldom apt to look too far ahead. If tbey were, how could they support as the-*- do the usual prospect of leaving wife and 'helpless dear ones to penury upon tbe death of the wage-earner? A prospect no forethought nr thrift of the average mechanic can effectually provide against. In due time behold John a step nearer his goal. With £600— far with the utamost care he had been unable lo keep his expenditure down so as to Bave more than that out of his little fortune— invested safely at 4 per oent, and an understanding established that nig drafts upon the bank were to be honoured, behold him seated on the little monkey-poop of tbe Lady Head, bis treasure nestling by his side, as with a smart south-easterly brerae she bounded across the Pacific under all sail. The shores of Australia rapidly faded, the violet shade of evening crept over the sky, and still they sat and looked ahead. They were looking for their home, the first that either of them had ever known, and their hopes were of a little heaven bolow where age oould r«st and enjoy, and youth free from all evils could rise to the full to/eight of a heaithy, happy animal existence. Beyond that the aspirations of either did not reach. The latitude and longitude of their now well-defined objective I am not prepared nor disposed to give, beyond saying that it was ao outlying! islet of the Hapai group of tiie ffrkcdly Islands, recommended by the skipper of the brigantine, firet, because of its accessibility to him, since he traded generally to Tonga; secondly, becaiuee of the well-known amiability of likely visitants in the shape of natives ; thirdly, because being large enough, lonely and uninhabited, it ea/tisfied the wishes of John. Their passage thither was unmarked by any incident whatever beyond those common to an ordinary passage in those seas. And when at last the pretty earth-bud was sighted, a dazzling white parftch crested with green coco-palms and sheltered from any heavy waves by a natural barrier of coral extending oil around it, John had hard work to keep from breaking down. It was the realisation of his life's dream, one which he dimly felt would never have been realised but for the little fairy at his side clapping her tiny bands with glee as each new beauty appealed to her obii dish senses, and full of delight at; everything we saw. The handy vessel glided into the little anchorage between the foaming reefs and let go her kedge in fairyland. It seemed almost a crime to let a ponderous mass of iron fall into such a scene of beauty beyond oompare or description, but sailors in those waters speedily find their sense of the beautiful blunted, if indeed- they ever possessed it. So tbe crew busied themselves under the direction of John in landing his belongings, his boat, his tent, his stores of all descriptions, his tools, and worked with such a will that ere the sweet 000 l sunset came to add new beauty ito the already lovely scene, they had finished with many farewells and departed seaward. The skipper promised to return in a month to see bow the new islanders were getting on, but John took little heed — he was too much engrossed with the realisation of his,/ dreams, and wee Mary was full of delighted wonder at her new playground, so full that her good-byes were quite perfunctory. How John did toil, to be sure. His sailor-like handiness stood him in good stead, of course, but it was nevertheless a great piece of work to get all shipshape and Bristol fashion for the coming night in two hours from the chaos of goods piled upon the beach. But at about seven — he had brought no timepiece or calendar, being determined to cut himself adrift from all formalities tihat he considered did not matter— all was ready, the wee maid was put snugly in her littla cot, and John stretched himself upon bis blankets by her side. In ten (minutes the slumberous lullaby of the surf had soothed them both into profoundest sleep, and in fullest security they spent tha pleasant night. John, was awakened at dawn by the shrill cry of his little maid, " Daddy, daddy, look) at tbe birdies come to see usl" Sure enough, in through tlie open sick of the tent had come several eea-fairies : whale-birds and set-swallows, looking with wide-eyed wonder but perfect freedom from fear at tlie intruders. Even when John rose to his feet and clasping M&ry to his breast gave her her morning kiss' they hardly stirred, but when he emerged they waddled leisurely bsfore him as he marched down the beach and plunged into the limpid etnbrac- . ing sea. There for half au hour he and his : heart's delight disported themselves amid the warm wavelet., a batli of purest ] emerald glittering with jewelled foam in i such splendour as tired the eye, and withal j refreshing as if gifted with the power of ! renewing youth. Tho floor was firm white j sand, pleasant to the touch, and without a j stra^- stono of coral to hurt childiali fetit ; ; the air was heaven's own nectar, aud there ; was no one to come between the lovers. John felt as if his icle* were perfectly real- \ ised, he felt tremendously grateful, but to - whom he did not know : and then, with ■ that practicality which had ahv.'-iy* tii>tinguished him, set about assuring the continuance of their joy. There was little of the Crusoe makeshifts about his arrangements ; his forethought had provided almost everythine. necessary for coavenience and ; comfort, and his seafaring adaptability enabled him to mr.ke ready use of his tools. So, with childish glee, be and his little nmid played at working, built them a little house as cusy as a nest (I say thorn, for the child w;vs fuil of delight at this long, Mong gamo that never palled, and would have over- i worked herself hvt for his tender care*), and for relaxation fished in the pellucid lagoon, climbed the low cocoa trees for their re-

l iHM»l^_fg{ilff" ißSßC?Ml "" «"»»*" 1 freshing green nuts, tended their little colony of two pigs, two goats and a halfdozen fowls, and found the days all to short to contain all their energies or half their joys. It would seem at firat sight impossible that such an Eden should be without its ser- i pent, but, nevertheless, for aeven short years John and hia beloved charge lived with hardly a shadow upon their fives. Only at the rare visits of an island canoe, and exchange of the necessary courtesies, cr ] the half-yearly arrival of Captain Maointyre, of the Lady Head, did they feel any- j thing like discontent or annoyance. Por they had both learned to do without what most of us find neoessary to anything like happiness in life, books, company, pleasant dwellings,, changes of pretty dress, etc. They were all in all to each other, tbey had perfect health, and were as near the perfect condition of primitive, sinless man as might be. So, when strangers came, Mary hid herself and grudged the time stolen from her sweet communion with her daddy. .And when the intruders bad gone she flung herself upon his broad breast in transport of j delight, telling him, In a hundred pretty j ways, how glad ehe was that she had got | him all to herself again. Yes, Mary was perfectly happy. If at times* a vague longing pervaded her 'splendid frame, she could not interpret it, did not try. She was beautiful as a Greek goddess. Perfect freedom of limb and body, simplest of simple food, cleanliness minute as that of a fish, yea, more so, had made of her a perfect specimen of young womanhood, and had she been able to describe her feelings she would have stared amazed, for the complexities of civilised passions still more complicated by the artificialities of problem novels bad never entangled her. She loved to sit witb her dafldy at tbe door of their house, watchling tbe unspeakable glories of the suri&et, the quick sequence of oolour schemes over tbe outer ocean, the creaming reef summit amd the placid lagoon, until all had merged in one tender shade of violet, the sweet ' freshness of night had replaced the languorj ous warmth of the day, and one by one the I shy stars were mustering for the nightly j review of tbe hosts of heaven. And then ! they would retire with a mutual sigh of per- ! feet content, she to her virginal couoh in a little room perfectly secluded, he to his grass hammock swinging from the roof beams, and lulled by the murmur of the surf, sink into dreamless sleep. But gradually as the years slid by tbe. inevitable consequences resolutely ignored by. ' John began to_ beat upon his consciousness. iHe was growing old. Only sixty, but bis very bard early life had made tbat comparatively early age equivalent to seventyfive. He could not know that the time was coming when the light of his eyes would be left to shine alone, unless — no, he would not think of it, at least not now. He would put it off a little. And so. be juggled with his reason, deoeived himself as to tbe endurance of his vitality, until one morning, after a week's persistent irritation at his left side, he, looking closely, saw a white, scurf-oovered spot. Now sailors, even " common " sailors such as Jom undoubtely was, accumulate avast amount of out of the way knowledge, even if they are seldom able to pass it on to others, and so John felt a chill as of a death .hand laid upon his heart, for he knew the sign of leprosy. For an hour he sat stunned, until the ringing music of Mary's voice, crying, " Daddy, why ever don't you come^and swim?" aroused him, an 3 with an effort of the highest heroism, he rose to his feet and answered cheerfully, "AU j right, darlinf, I'm comin'." They bathed as usual, but when on returning for breakfast she would have wound! her lithe right arm round his waist, he said in a strange voioe, "No, lovey, you mustn't touch me no more. I've got a- bad skin disease, and Fd rather die a dozen times than vbu should catch it." Mary flung herself face downward on the sond, rent with sobs, the first' bitter grief she had known since John had rescued her from Cable Street, tearing at her soul. And be — he must needs stand aloof — unable to caress or comfort her. William Hardy, poor Scottish student, having with the fire of (missionary zeal burning in his bones fought his way from " but an' ben " through college, found himself at last on board a missionary schooner bound for Raratonga from Sydney to begin j his heaven-appointed task. Never did j bridegroom long for his wedding morn with I more intensity of desire than William Hardy, when on the beauteous coral strand I of his imaginings he should be able io tell i a crowd of wottderng dark men and women I of their fellow-man and loving God. His imI patience wore his body thin, and all his I prayers were to be there; to begin, to do, j Yet, when within, a few days of the goal of all his hopes and prayers, there oame a check, a celestial embargo upon further I progress. The heavens grew black at midI day, and the wail of the coming woe soundied mournfully through the rigging. A i strong smell of sulphur pervaded the adr, l and the sea was a turbid ink touched here ] and there with ghastly light. The skipi per, mate and crew, having done all pos- ■ sible to secure their vessel, called upon the ' young missionary to pray. He was hardly I able, for his mind was filled with be- .! wilderment. Why was he hindered from j doing God's work? Why should this storm j stay him? He prayed, but perfunctorily. He i was not afraid, nay, be was rather annoy- ' ed, and his petitions sounded, but hollow, j being not so directly for life, but for perj mission to go forward and get on with the i work. { Then came the storm the awful hurricane ! due to those summer seas when they • haye slumbered too long. And all praying as ; well as doing was over — the storm did all. I An elemental uproar, roaring waters, heaI yens and sea commingled, and . jagged , | chains of fire connecting all — who could ! 1 abide? William Hardy never knew the pro- j : oess nor the parting, but he awoke from | ' his hideous dream to find a face lovely be- ! i vond his fairest ideas, gazing down into ' nis, its eyes overbrimming with tears. .' j With pain wrenching every sinew, every , ; nerve protesting, he struggled upon his feet ; and leaning upon a soft shoulder, ! still in a state of amazement beyond all ac- ; oount, he was gently led upward into a Uttle house where a drink of beaten egg and milk was held to his lips. He drank and i was revived. Before him sat an old man with hair and long beard white as snow, j : gazing tenderly at him, but coming no ■' i nearer than the width of the hut. He turn- ; ed, and at his side stood a tajl, splendid i figure, a woman most beautiful, looking ; down upon him with eyes full of love, ma- . I tcrnal in its regard. ] ! " Flung ashore out o' some poor ship last ■ night, I s'pose," said the old man, but so ; gently, so pitifully, that it sounded! like a j bendiction. Also it opened the conversa- : tion, and in a very little while Hardy was ! pouring out all his heart to the strange pair. who listened as if to the oracle of a God. Without one questioning word they accepted all he said, yet like him they wondered, with a. wonder that was almost bewilderment, why, after all those years of preparation, of self-sacrificing struggle, this young enthusiast bad been stopped on the threshbpld of the fr-uition of his desir-es. Again and again they came in the course of their long, long talk, up against this barrier, until suddenly, with a new light in his eyes, John said: "I know.*' And ilk-h u;ey retired for the night. During the happy days that followed, John watched his 'darling with eyes tbat >.'.'w almost prophetically, hut in those looks there was no longer any jealous fear. He

felt perfectly satisfied' that, to orown. W* joy and allow him to part in peace, this young apostle had been^eemt, and ooa night when Hardy had been with them a w^ftk, and he and Mary had become inseparable, John startled them both by eayiag, suddenly, " Children liaten !" They sat aide by Bide, breathlessly awaiting what ihe bad to say. yet all tmoiynsckyns of its possible import. For no word of love had passed rSheir lips, no kiss, only the fullest, freest fellowship and confidence. He said solemnly : "In two days I shall be dead. An' God has sent yon to take my Mary. Ifs moro than I dieserve. But, accoidin' to what you've taught me, He's very kind, and thinks of these things. Tou^ll many hen, Willy, and go on wrth yonr work, taMmr my little sa.vings to help yon. And He'll bless you, I know. Good-night I" A great awe fell npon them. Their love sprang into shape, gigantic, definite, made concrete as it were by the touch of 'seath. For neither of them doubtedi that John spoke truly. And they kissed eaoh colter. Snddenly Mary sprang to her feet and was rushing to John s arms, when he shotted " No !" And then for the fin* Mmc ah« learned the dxead secret, the reason wfor she, who had; always from her earliest reoollection nestled in his bosom, had been forbidden to so much as lay her hands upon him. But the bitterness of the revelation was tempered by tfhe new presence. Put it how we may, that is so. Even the most agonising pautings may be mollified by someone being left. At dawn on the second day he died, his last words being, " Please don't touch me, darlin's, at least not now. Tm going to be touched and made clean." They buried ihim at the highest point of the inlet, observing carefully his instructions which he had made possible to be carried out by wrapping himself in many folds of cloth with the last flickering energies. And no potentate, no beloved one, ever had a grander funeral than John Morris t or- was more befittangly commended to his Maker.