MY CELIBACY.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2265, 15 January 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

MY CELIBACY.

By Peri. CHAPTER IV. I always was a fool at judging; people's characters. I was always told I was too matter-of-fact. I know one thing, that I always was decided in my likes and dislikes. If I liked anybody or any place or anything, I did like them, ani I always spoke and acted as if I did. If I disliked I wa9 equally emphatic, and could never be argued or juggled out of either my predilection or prejudice. I generally reckoned people up in my own blunt way, and measured them all by the same invariable metre. It was some years before I could bring myself to understand that each person's or, at least, most person's characters have many phases to them. It was certainly not within the scope of my gauge of character, that a person haying once honestly and conscientiously declared supreme love for another could by a third influence become so completely deranged in their faculty of pffoction as to run counter to their recent sober and deliberate choice and transfer to another the whole measure of their love. Had I, however, known otherwise, I do not think I should have acted differently, for surely perfect trust in such a compact is the very foundation of the whole structure of after life. Ethel was certainty young and impressionable and highly emotional, but she had once declared her ardent love for me, aud that sufficed for all future to me. Claude was younger than I. He was very handsome witt good voice and most fascinating manner, but he was my brother and a gentleman, and that was enough for me. On the integrity of both I would have drained my heart's blood if need be. So although I regretted leaving my love for my own sake and hers, yet no tinge of jealousy or doubt rested on my heart as I rode out on my coinmission. My undertaking was very successful, and my father certainly secured a good bargain. The farm I was to inspect was owned by a rich Wiltshire grazier. He had lately become possessed of a large property, and wished to get rid of his farm and stock, if possible, at one bid, just as it stood, without the worry and annoyance of a safe. The sum he wanted, though a low price for the place and stock, represented a large sum, larger than most of the neighbouring farmers could command. So when he found I was empowered to treat for the whole he made the matter very easy for me, and after three hours' inspection we struck a bargain ; all the preliminaries were prepared, and the next day I was to start for home. I had taken especial interest in the farm, as my father had let drop a hint that he should hand it over to me. For Ethel's sake I was particularly gratified that the honse was a very haudsome gabled structure, replete with every improvement of modern building, instead of being a single-storied, thatched, sandfloored, manure-soaked hovel, and I pondered over a hundred views that I know would delight her. I fixed in my mind the spot most suitable for her own garden and conservatory. I pictured to myself her almost childish ecstasy at being mistress of such a charming home, aud the constantly recurring enthusiasm over some new object of interest that claimed her attention. I found Mr. Chorley a genial, intelligent companion in our walk round the farm. As we turned from the door after lunch lie glanced up at the house, saying, " You will not have a new piece of untried sod to work, Mr. Chollerton. Although the house gives you the impression of being new, the. farm is a very old one, and lias been in our family for upwards of three hundred years, and would still continue so, but I have no sou, Mr. Chollerton, to follow me, and the place is haunted by memories that I would fain forget. I should not touch on these matters, except to show you a good reason for giving up an old homestead. This house was built the year my only son and child was born ; before that date the old house was good enough for me, as it had been for my father ; but my poor wife thought to make our boy a gentleman, and was determined he should never remember the rattletrap old ruin he was born in. These lauds were originally a portion of St. Cyprian's Monastery, which was despoiled and burnt in the reign of Henry VIII. Some of the old outbuildings contain the original walls. Well, as I was telling you, my son was to start on a different footing ; so a new house was built, aud a superior nursemaid hired to look after the boy, and when old ! enough he was sent to a gentleman's boarding school, and then to College, and then his poor mother was satisfied she had made him a gentleman ; but not a bit of it Mr Chollerton. If a lad is not a gentleman in heart, education won't make him one. Ah, sir, he would have done better at the tail of hi:* old father's plough, and have made a prouder man. Well, he got in with a set of young blackguards at College, and all I could ever find that he learnt was to swear, drink, gamble, and grow ashamed of his parents : and, damn it, sir, I did not mind for myself, but I could slay the son that could ashamed of my dear wife as his mother."

The poor old man's fist was gripped tightly as he spoke, and his features were agitated with excitement. "At last we found out that he had been in the habit of meeting the daughter of our parson down yonder, and when her father heard of it, he came to me to use my influence to stop any further meetings, aud he spoke very kindly of saying he had no objection to their meeting at our house or his; bit he could not bear the idea of such mei'iings as theirs—they were not right. My wife and I quite concurred with what, he said, and some time after, the boy c.:unp in my wife spoke to him alone ; but I happened to be cutting some flower pegs in the nest room, and I heard him swear at his mother, and say that if it had not been for his low-bred origin he could have mixed with tho best in the county, but now his Lily was the only person who would meet him on equal footing-. Well, sir, I couldn't stand it ; my blood boiled. I soiz-od the young ruffian by the collar, and fairly kicked him off the premises as I would a cur; and as I throw him from the gate, I cried, 'May God wither and blight your life, as you have our-!, and may tenfold descend on my hend if you ever live under my roof :ig;\in, or if you benefit liy me living or doud.' " I .shuddered to haar tho old father curse, and I knew, from what I s'-nv of him, that he would Jie rather than retract but I could not help hoping that I should, some day liou , of the reunion of the father and son.' "He left tho phiee," continued Mr Chorley, "aud two days later the girl had gone ton; they were traced as far ns London, and I htive not heard anything of them since' nor," ho added, "shall I I ever try to hear more."

I felt very deeply for the poor old father iu his grief, but I suid little. "You can understand now, Mr Chollertou," coutiuuod the old farmer," why I no longer jhirish any affection for the place." "loan, indeed," I replied, "but my father would be tho last man to wish to benefit by your distress. I quite see you are offering me a great bargain in this purchase, but, even now, if you think otherwise, I would consent to the place being offered atauoUou, , '

" Don't entertain such a thought for a moment, Mr Chollerton. I would not offer the old place at auction for the house full of gold. lam aware of what I* , am doing, and am quite satisfied if you are." " I could hardly be otherwise," I replied. " Then let us close the bargain as soon as you like, and let me get out of this. I have ample for all my future wants, having reccutly become possessed of some funded property. L am going to live with a niece who is in poor circumstances." " I need not tell you, Mr Chorlcy," I said, " that if at any time you would like to see the old place I shall esteem it a great pleasure if you will become my guest for a week or two." The old man thauked me warmly, and we shortly after our conversation returned to the house. As I had a long ride before me next day I retired early, and was eager to be on my way home to see ny love. CHAPTER V. On reaching home next day I fonnd a dull household. My father was still poorly, and Ethel, who was likewise uuwell, could not leave her room. My, brother Claude was gone, and my mother much depressed.

I sent a little note to Ethel, expressing my hope of seeing her on the following morning. She thanked me in a verbal message through my mother, but gave no promise. The next morning I hoped in vain for her appearance, and on the third clay there was still no promise of her coming down. I remarked that my mother was more depressed and anxious, and on the evening of the third day since my arrival I grew impatient, and insisted on ridiug over to Hythe for the doctor unless Ethel was better the next morning ; but I little guessed what awaited me next day. When the servant called her she found Ethel's room empty, and with no appearance of having been occupied during the night. She found a note addressed to me. I read the following lines :— My dear, doar Jack.—Why did you leave me ? I do not ask it in extenuation of my conduct, but we might have continued a happy and peaceful life of love and devotion. While 1 dreaded your going, I had not courage to ask you not to leave me as ardently as I knew I ought. I dreaded youv going, but I dared hardly long for your remaining. I knew too well, with bitter sorrow, that lam weak and very wicked; but I should be more wicked and deceitful if I remained longer under your roof in my present relation to you, and the call that compels me to leave I am without power to resist. I seem to have had no strength to rally me asrainst my yielding from the first to the influence that rules me. I dare not ask you to forgive me now ; but, oh, do not curse me in your bitter anger. I closed the note deliberately, and placed it in my pocket book. The shock was so sudden and severe to me that I Jo not think my slower intellect at first quite realised it fully. No, I thought to myself, "Ethel, you have known me as little as I have known you, if you think I could curse you." " Don't speak of it, mother, please," I said ; and she kissed me again and' took her place at the table, and spoke not a word on the subject. My good old father knew my temperament well, and though T could see he was much disturbed, he spo!;e no word on the matter at all, only I learned after, when with my mother alone, hu stormed and swore at the girl's stupid fickleness; but his anger at his son's conduct was almost uncontrollable, and I believe, but for the knowledge that my own wish was to keep the matter quiet, ho would have taken immediate steps to follow aiid stop the fugitives. For myself I went out over the farm and fifty things that had been neglected, and worked harder than I had for weeks ; only after lime, as I began" to awake to my trouble, I loosened my necktie and collar, and hardly seemed able to get breath enough. My good t'.iflier's kind thought for mo saved me much in ways, but happiest of all was his wish (hat I should go over and take possession of the new farm which we had bought from Mr Choi-ley. '•But who will keep house for me ?" I asked. " Why your mother has written to Kilton, to Mrs Stnufield, who would be very glad to go up there with you." " It N very kind of you. dad," I replied, "to think of i!i<\ I should much like to go if yon can spare me." A month Liter fouud me settled at St. Cypri-m with Mrs Stanfield, who entertained us the day of Kilton [races, sis my housekeeper. Here at least there were no memories to harass me, which every tree or field or scene, recalled at our old home. As I >aid previously, Mrs Stanfield was a very old friend of my mother's, and became almost a secoud mother to me. Her last husband had owned a. largo estate, so that she was thoroughly experienced in managing my affairs. No one could have worked more untiringly than I did on the farm. I found my only solace in the perfect absence of meditation ; the moineni I paused to think I became unstrung. I knew I had been hit very hard, though I don't think anyone detected it. I cannot hut feel that my trouble now was iu a great measure deadened by another great trial; that was the death of my dear mother. This was intensified by the knowledge that my dear, kind old father could not possibly long survive her. They had been such inseparable companions, so fully shared each other's trial, that if ever the direction so divinely uttered that " these twain be one flesh " had been fulfilled it was so in the union of my own parents, and I could not but feel that from no kind feeling for their own happiness could spring the desire to keep them long apart, whether living or dead.

Nov was I mistaken, for within six months thy dear old father had joined her, and my old home was desolate indeed. I determined to let the old place, and as the new farm at St. Cyprian was more congenial to my disposition at the time, I remained there as before. The old widower, Mr. Chorley, had only removed a distance of twelve miles from St. Cyprian, and as stock fanning was in many respects now to me, I had frequent occasion to ride over to sec him for advice. After a time I prevailed upon the old fanner to come to scons for a week, and 1 think he was much gratified to find that 1 had effected very little alteration in the place. Ho felt it the highest compliment that his own taste had be.on deemed worthy of retention : but I. sometimes detected tears in the old man's eyes as he looked at some probably recalling happy recollections of a past now utterly withered. It was not unnatural that a great bond of sympathy should spring , up between us, and I of tun wished I could re-uuito father and sou; as for my sorrow, 1 knew the breaoh was irrepariiblo. Mr stock farming—partly from, perhaps, my own inexperience, partly from three or four very bad seasons—was not a success, and at the end of the ninth season I had to determine to give up the venture. I at last hit on a way out of the difficulty. Old Mr Chorley had often expressed a hope that I would never eell the old place without giving him the offer of re-purchasing; I think he felt like the old hunter who is always craving fgt the fieW Bgaiu, However, when I

':''d '\\ ■ ; ro''(! it: >u !,■• agreed hi farm I , '. ■ I'laro lor me, il' 1 wished, i'or one or iu'i years — lie knew : e could make it p <y : but .1 could not", accede to this, so he deiiTinined to lv-purchusi , . 1 was soon locking , round for t'rcsh fields of employiiii nf. My old homo was tenanted ; 1 (ould not go there, so I went to London i'<>r a while. It was here I was seized a\ ith :i longing to do something to relieve it litllc, it pos.-iUo, tho suffering I haw, and T trmu'd to th ■ Church as my best :u:eiit. In as short a time- as possible 1 present 1 myself, for ordination, find found i:o dearth of occupation uudor ;i li.'nl-W'i.ki ig vicar in tho neighbourhood nf Sit'id. I grew s) atlviehod to mv work 'iiaf. I often wondered why I had deJ_!Y.il so lnug embracing :i profession so UviiP.ny with opportunities. In my daily association of London life i iiiti'ii thonirhi'. of my old friend (Jhorhv , ami longed that it should ho n:y lot to (.■nine across his son, and it' ho was not so woithle.-s as his impetuous old father had judged him, I felt that I should have soul-' influence to bring abo'it a reconciliation ; for although the poor old man was in good hands, Mrs Stanfield having consented to remain and keep house for him, nevertheless I could detect in the waning strength a yearning for a nearer kin to loan upon, and I know that in attempting a ro-uuion I should not find tho same hard, stern nature to work upon that I should have two years ago when I first knew him. I always, therefore, kept my favourite object in viow.

CHAPTER VI. At a time when the elucidation of so many of the mysteries of nature by the patient researches of scientific moil prepares the minds of the most sceptical for daily revelation of forces, which had hitherto been regarded with superstitious awe ; runl at a period when science appears to be wresting one by one from the t-'lomonto! their heretofore nufathoinable secrets ; the following disclosures, which, at the time of their utterance, were considered only the emanations of a disordered mind, may not bo altogether dovoid of significance, nor viewed by some sanguine, student of tho great energies of nature as entirely beyond the realms of possibility. In my capacity as a clergyman I was, about five years after my residence in London, one day summoned to the bedside of a, dying man. He was suffering from a wasting disease, induced, as I judged from his wretched plight, by a long period of extreme privation. The locality was one of the miserable overcrowded alleys adjoining St. Martin's-in-tbe-Fields. I found a man who, although his past life had done all that was possible to eradicate every evidence of higher education and training, had clearly known a higher grade in life. His latest occupation had been a scene shifter at a large popular music-hall hard by, with an occasional variety as a hanger on at races, or a c.ib toutcr. His poverty now was extreme, as the bareness of the attic testified, the only furniture consisting of the straw mattress on which hc"i was lying, covered with some strips of carpet and old sacks, and a large deal box by his side; on the box lay a dirty covcrlcss copy of one of Voltaire's works. Tim disease from which ho was suffering had passed through its more acute stages, and had left him in comparative ease but extreme exhaustion, a condition often preceding the last moments of life, when the organs of the mind resume an energy which has been dormant perhaps for years, and stimulate the sufferer to words or acts from which in his more natural moments he would have shrank.

"I have sent for you, priest," he began, " not that you cau minister to me any spiritual comfort, but because I have n groat secret to entrust to you, which, if i die without disclosing, would probably enfail a serious loss on mankind. You think me mad, I see, but unless you can discard that belief it is useless for mo to proceed. lam not mad ; I am as clour in my intellect as you are. When I have finished my story I will give you papers to prove what I say. I sent fou because I dare not trust any other profeshional iran, they are such liars. I thought my beat chance of finding a reliable man would be in a priest, not because I believe in them one wliit more, but becausa it would be less to their interest to use my information than it would be for a layman. ' Well, I must begin at the beginning, though it is little to brag of. People often said I was a bad lot; however that may be, I was compelled to start with my villainy early. I married very young, and without the least provision for the future, and the only result that could ensue came of it—misery. When our little money was spent I began to look out for means of living, I dared not writo to my friends; my dear, plucky little wife would have starved first, and I • —.why to keep her in comfort I was ready to work, starve, betr, aye, if need by, steal, or worse. Wo had a sore time of it. I made a few shillings by writing Kometiines, but I soon gave up this to talco the post of clerk to a patent agent at a jMiund a week. This was sufficient fur :i. lime; but mouths passed away, and a lit Mo son was born, and the next year a daughter, imd the following another, fol--1.-iwi'd three years later by another son. With these our expenses wore largely incrcasoil, but still my miserable emplovers would not increase my salary beyond a guinea and α-half a week. By degrees I began to detect what I most dreaded ; my darling wife's health began to give way under the strain, then the children, too, locked pinched and wan. Oh ! what I suil'ered day by day in my impotence to supply their wants; but ir. i< no use talking of it now. At last I followed three little coffins to their graves. Oh ! if I had been ever going mud, piiesfc, I should have then ; for it whs not a course of nature but starvation —cruel, pitiless starvation—and that, •!(,(.!, in a e>n\=ed country that boasts of its wealth of institutions, for relief of all kind-:. Yc?, true, all kinds of roguery, but nut for bare, self-evident destitution.

' All sense oi' honour between tn;m and man was dead in mo. henceforth, and I vow oil, after appealing , iu vain to every institution in London that professes the relief of want, and the simple doctrine of self-help should bo mine, and that any means that might present themselves to to enable me to save my darling wife and child I would ad"pfc from that hour without .-cnijilc, and that my only recognition of duties or failings should corninbnce ■when the former ceased to serve my ends or the latter were, detected. I began by using ;i fair knowledge I hud acquired of Li.'Uirur. I proceeded very cautiously, and soon found .success beyond my hopes, i then extended my sphere of action, and went in for larirer ventures - . At length one day I was lews successful than usual, and contracted a, rather heavy loss, at least heavy for mo, but I had no fear, as I felt safe for two other risks the same •week. But the same cursed fate Stuck to me ; the horse I backed with a good place was shot in the stable the evening before, and the first favourite was not in the running. There waa nothing ci.se for it ; I wan compelled to borrow a sum from my employer's, cash-box. I again had a viiec of fortiino. I was at Old XJnilcy one (lay dining a trial for murder. I heard .ell the evidencs and. summing up. I knew before (he jury retired what the vculiet would be. I passed across the street to the old inn, and strolled carelessly into the bar. After having something to drink, I asked the landlord if he hal any lodgings. lie allowed some nj stair.-(, and I chose two front rooms, Led and sitting room, and said I ■\vfiH leaving my own apartment.?, and would take these for a month. I paid a deposit, the bargain was struck", and I entered into possession. I told my wife it would be necessary for me to In: absent a night now

sikl then, without giving her a hint as to my plans. A few days later, at the races, I met a few of the visual dupes and rowdies who I knew had money, and I asked each in turn if they would like a good

si: r 'lifc of an execution ; most of them hailo.l the opportunity, and by the end "f the day I had secured twenty-five as rowdy young blackguards as the turf could furnish, and at ten pounds each. I nutted a large profit on my rooms, and undertook to have a good supper the uight before for my guests. " All, priest, we had a night of it before , the execution. There were three men and a woman to be executed, and wo sat there drinking anil playing all night ; at least my guests drank heavily, and I took care to keep them well supplied, anil to keep my own head clear, and by a little management, before mornini> 1 , I had contrived to take a hand at ddl'orent times at each of the sets we made up at the several tables, and in each cist; my young friends, with their inte l;ets fogged by wine, fell an easy prey to me. By the time old St. Sepulchre's chimed seven I had pocketed about another hundred pounds. I felt so elated with my success that even the horrible preparations that were going forward opposite iny windows had littie effect in chucking my merriment, which proceeded from a very different cause than that of my companions. " When half-past seven struck we gathered round the windows. Below was a vast crowd, swaying and surging, swearing and laughing, joking and commiserating. Oa either side the windows were crammed with heads ; many I could sec were fashionably dressed women, some I knew of the upper classes. Ovsr the great gate of the gaol two or three workmen were completing the last details of their ghastly task. The voices of the crowd of demons under our windows were hushed now and again as the solemn boll of St. Sepulchre's tolled out each of the numbered minutes that remained to the miserable criminals, till, at five minutes to the hour, a sound as of a great gasp for breath, or of a vast sigh, broke from the multitude, announced that some stirring event was passing ; then, as the grim procession filed into sight on the scaffold, the silence was more like the awful stillness of a desert or the shore of the Dead Sea. In a few moments the solemn tones of the chaplain's voice, as ho repeated the burial service, could be heard right across the open space that extended to the right of the gaol. I was standing by a young felow, a mere lad, one of my companions, who had somewhat recovered the effects of his bout, and was more sensible of the position than his fellows ; and I remarked the ashy whiteness of his face, when, before I could hold him, he had fallen helpless to the floor in a dead swoon, I laid him on the couch, placed a wet handkerchief over his hoad, and returned to the window ; in the interim the horrible scone had been accomplished, and four lifeless bodiss swung slowly over the dark porch, of Newgate. I can remember now that a ray of light broke over the gaudy building behind and rested on the heads of the cnlprits, and I thought bitterly even then that such a beam of God's mercy might have saved those victims ere now ; but it comes not till too late.

'Ah ! you shudder; well never mind, priest, don't interrupt me. I am coming to the part I want you to hear. Well, my young guests had not much relish, for breakfast after what they had seen, and even the most drunken young sot of the whole batch seemed to recover his senses. An hour later they had left my rooms, and I was the nett gainer of not less than two hundred and fifty pouuds. Ugh! Such a sum would have been small enough to me in the old days at home ; but to me then what visions did it not conjure up ? What comfort for my sick wife and poor hungry-looking little boy. And, however that money had been gained, if there's a God above, He knows that I devoted every penny of it for their benefit.

'This money, had lasted some three years, after paying for cash defalcations in my employer's books. But still my miserable stipend continued at the same figure, and, harken to me, priest ! if you want to account' in your dealings with men for the progress of siu or crime, you may lay this down, and if ' money is the root of all evil, , the want of it is the soil and atmosphere from whence it springs.

" Well, I was not idle all these years. I worked hard, and strained every nerve to work cheerfully. I strove to obtain other employment, but in vain. I also, with varying success, pursued my old resources of gambling and horse racing. At length, one day my stock was almost exhausted, and I saw nothing before me but the same old struggle with want; and when I could no longer give my wife and little son the food they so needed, the old signs of sickness developed themselves, and I was growing desperate, when one day there called at our office a very shabby-looking client. He wished to see my employer, who was away. At length I saw from his manner he had some busines of an important nature to communicate. He evinced an inclination to disclose his object, but almost immediately controlled his desire, saying, 'No, I must tell the principal.' "'But he will not see you, I urged, unless he knows the nature of your business.' '' ' Why not ?' he asked. " ' Because we get so many schemes offered us which 1 can tell at once are not practicable, so he always expects me to give him a short statement of each little matter like yours.' " ' Little matter d'ye call it, young man ; I tell ye if yc called mine a little matter over yonder in Potosi,l'd empty six chambers into your constitution in about as little time as you say it. Why my invention will revolutionise the whole world of mechanics.' " ' Well, , I returned impatiently, ' what is it, and I will tell you. in a moment whether it will go down.' " ' Go down or not, it's God's own truth that I'm telling; the invention I discovered, after working ni<jh on twenty years in the silver mines, is beyond belief. Ah, you may smile if you like, and you will when I tell you, but take care how you rile me, for we don't stand much out you, and its difficult to get out of a bad habit.' " ' Well, my time is valuable, I can't wait much longer,'l replied, 'give me your name.' "' Japhet Lynn,' he answered, 'and my invention is the suspension of gravitation. " It was a good tbing for me my face was turned from him, or I know my looks would have brought down his bullets. I did not answer him, and ho continued— " ' I don't expect you to believe me till I show you what I can do.' '' Ho looked round the office for some object worthy of an experiment. He saw a heavy iron safe about five feet high and ihreo feet square, weighing certainly not less than a ton with all tho books in it. After a few preliminaries he adjusted what appeared to me a piece of greenish yellow wire with too small globes of metal at each end. Having placed these in some particular relation with each other he tilted the massive safe and passed another wire vertically round in the same way as the first, and when I was astonished to see him raise the safe without any apparent difficulty and place it in the middle of the office on a very rieketty old chair." ('To be con tin >ic 1, J

]>v\'CHV.\i, to young housekeeper; " I have nothing left, mum, but a hind-quarter of lamb and liver." Ynunsr housekeeper: " Very well; yon may send a small hindquarter of liver." Acookdi'ni; to a Queensland exchange this is how they are going to tell when a dead heat is run at the race meetings :— The Queensland Turf Club have engaged the services of a photographer, who will take liis stand in front of the judge's box, opposite the winning post, so as to take an instantaneous photograph of the horse or horses first past the post. As they pass the judge presses a spring, whose action exposes and re-covers the lens in a fraction of a second, and the photograph thus obtained will set at rest all doubts and questions a3 to dead heat verdicts, which rarely gives satisfaction.