MASIE: A SKETCH.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10683, 1 February 1913, Page 3

MASIE: A SKETCH.

(By DEESIDE.)

[Alj< Rights Rksehved.] Masio must havo had a father, but as to his name, trade or occupation, these were all a mystery which Masie's mother did nothing to elucidate, and so tho child was at hrst known as " Nelly Stewart's wean." When, after four years, she died, leaving her child ail orphan, Masie Stewart she was named, and so continued to be called. How was she looked 'after? Well, there were charitable institutions, but none of them did anything for Masie. She became dependent upon the kindness of those who had been her mother's neighbours, and she got her bite and sup and her clothing in some sort of fashion. Not many of the working class at that time sent their children to school, so the orphan grew up guiltless of letters, and probably she never felt the want of them. The farmer in whose service she ended her days had attended only the free night school, and his exercise-books a third-standard pupil of the present day would laugh at. Yet he managed a fairly large business and passed for a, learned man among his simple neighbours. But if the child could not read, she was not very old before she could do many .other things —mind cows, set and clean potatoes, thin turnips and many other outside duties, while indoors she could wash dishes, look after the lire and do some simple cooking. I can remember carrying a small gift from a well-wisher, and her exclamation when she saw it, "Aye, that will do fine to store!" But Masie was always looked upon as silly, and never much was expected from her. But who knows, had she been reared in the warmth of a loving home, how much her faculties might have developed? The " white man's burden " tvas not always borne even in the white man's land, and so she passed her time helping now one, now another, her only wage her food and clothing! At that time a girl's yearly wage was about £3, but- even that small sum never came Masie's way. What good would money do her? She could neither use it nor spend it aright, and so her distrust of herself was fostered and her helplessness still further increased. Through the dangerous years of a young woman had Masie paked. It is ■said that- for every Jenny there i-s a Johnny, but on asking her'why she had never married, her reply was " Just because nobody ever wanted me." Yet, if she had no lover herself, she was a connecting link between many a couple, and proud enough Music was of her position of helper, and when the wedding was-announced. "Ah, ha!" she would say, " I knew o' this long ago." By the time I made Ma-sie's acquaintance she was rather more than middleaged, and she lived in a small hutone couldn't call it a house. It had no floor and very little light, but plenty of smoke, which had japanned almost .everything in the hut. But it was "home" to Masie. It was her own. and she could have any friends of hers there and entertain them, with none to say her nay. Not vet- had the old age pension come, but Masie wn.s in receipt or os per month from the poor-box, and this she eked out by working in the afore-mentioned farmer's kitchen.

Like many other solitary persons, she had developed the habit 'of talking to herself. I fancy this is merely thinking aloud, but sometimes her utterances were laughable, as. for instance, when one of the. girls of the house had given her something phasing, she was overheard telbnjt h*.*;-* if <r Team's a good lassie, but just when it comes up her own back. - ' Poor Masie! It. was mv fate to be with her at the last, and the last cane in a pitiable manner. A large coppei of water had been heated for the washing. and this was set on the iloor while tee _ dinner was being put forward. Masie had been putting sticks under the pot. and somehow stepped back and lire-rally sat down in the copper. I was the first to reach her. and all was could be done for her relief, but sno was. advanced in years, and b "t end came ns much as a re-nilt of shock as th" On one of ihe nights w hen we mi! UP wiili Mer my companion said to me. "flow commrtabb> every!him- i-- 1 no siio'lld renjniii old limit!*."

What was our surprise to hear Siasie's voice. Her words wfro lairiy strong as .-he said.. "No. ivi. girls! Slurry, ami have folk about you. It's a weary lite to live alone.'' And slip knew. '111!' hineral was over, and as tho farmer rested after his return from the ceremony. at which lie had acted as cliiel' mourner, ho said, "Ah! Slasie was a lone hociv all her life, and she is alone even at the last." And this was the cud of Siasie. The hut was unroofed, and as the Avail formed part ol' a paddock fence, the hist 1 saw of it was when a calf thrust his head through what, had once been a window and was now simply a hole in the wall. How far awav and how long ago all this seems! And, thinking over 1 have mot since, I asic myself the question, " Have they, ha vie 1. tilled our place in life to any better purpose than simple but honest Slasie ? r '