CHAPTEER I.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume V, Issue 238, 23 November 1877, Page 5

CHAPTEER I.

GBANT. It was a bright morning, in the early part of July, when I found myself in a railway carriage that was whirling me rapidly from the Great Babylon for the short three weeks' holiday which was all, I could snatch from the law. I was about to spend them in my old' home at Oakham, where my father filled the post of steward and man of business to the noble family who owned the Oakham domain. Oakham Park was the great place, par excellence, of the county ; its princely mansion, its woods and gardens were things to see ; and few illustrious foreigners, in the shape of Shahs or Cssarowitcb.es, left England without enjoying the hospitality dispensed there in right royal style. In early boyhood, a ran with the Oakham foxhounds had ranked foremost among my home pleasures : and the support of the great family's parliamentary interest was about the first idea which had been presented to me in later life, among the duties of graver years. Ten years of busy life in London law-courts had, indeed, somewhat dwarfed the importance of Oakham in my present estimation ; and, moreover, changes had been at work by which the influence once exercised by its owners in the country had considerably diminished. The old ducal family had become extinct, and the property had passed to a younger branch, whose presence was almost felt as an intrusion by those who remembered the days of " the old duke." Still, after the absence of a year or two, during which I had generally contrived that my scanty holidays should be spent in a continental ramble, the prospect of revisiting my boyhood's home was reawakening the old associations; and as I mused over past and present the images of early days begau to resume their old proportions, and to exert their former influence over my mind. My companions in the carriage were three in number, of whom two had established themselves in corner compartments, and were absorbed in the study of their dailies. The third, clad in a plain gray suit, had nothing special to indicate bis rank or call for observation ; but in a minute or so I found myself involuntarily scanning him afresh, a proceeding I was the better able to accomplish from the fact that his eyes, fixed on the passing landscape, were never once turned towards me. I could hardly say what there was to justify my glance of curious inspection, if it were not the stillness of his head, and the passive, self-forgetf ulncss of his attitude. As to the others, they were of the ordinary class of English railway travellers. Having painfully done his duty with the morning paper, the younger of the two attempted to open conversation with his opposite neighbour by the remark that, " Mayflower seemed to have made all the running," to which the elder replied by a grunted affirmative which seemed to indicate that the animal in question had not greatly consulted bis interests by her unexpected success. He did not seem of a conversational turn, and the young man's next attempt was on the stranger in gray. '• Country badly wants rain, sir," be said, as though commenting on the attention which the other was bestowing on the fields and dusty hedge-rows. '• Does it, indeed ? " was the reply. "To me everything looks so green." Then as by way of explanation : '• When you are used for half the year to see everything baked to brick-dust, England looks like a huge cabbage garden." " May-be," returned the other, pointing to a well-timbered bit of ground we were then just passing ; " and yet I hardly know the country in Europe that could show such ciibbages as those." "Ah ! " was the reply, " perhaps so ; I know very little of Europe." The chance words fell on my car, and I proceeded to draw the somewhat hasty conclusion that my friend in gray must be a Yankee. Meanwhile, the elder gentleman was engaged in folding his paper into the smallest possible compass, with the view of ultimately disposing of it in his coat pocket, observing, as he did so, that " they seemed to have got a good working majority," and the words at once unlocked our tongues, and gave us a common subject of interest. It was the moment of a great political crisis ; a once popular ministry had split to pieces, a general election had just placed the reins of power in tbe hands of the Conservative party, ami according to their respective views men were everywhere startled or jubilant over the unexpected shifting of the scenes. " They will have it all their own way for the present," I observed; '• and released from more serious cares, Hapirock can take his own ttime at demolishing the Pope." f , '• Yes," said the first speaker, " how long it will last remains to be but i'or a time we shall have a strong Tory Government." " And what will they do ? " asked the Yankee (if such he were), in a tone of grave and genuine interest, which contrasted not a little with the careless, off-hand manner of his companions. "Do? Well, I suppose they'll give the beer-shops a lift; you know they owe it to them that they've got their innings. Then there's Clause 2(5 — safe for a year or two ; and I suppose the farmers will get some sort of a sop, and promise of more. Then we t.hn.ll spend a Tot of money, and have a jolly fight over tbc Budget ; and there's talk about Law Reform ; I suppose that is about our programme for the next session." " You are not serious ? " " I am indeed." " Yes," I observed, as he glanced towards me for confirmation of the other's accuracy ; " changes in government don't come to much in England ; and no man when he is in power can really do what he talks about in opposition. The new men will find it so, and they know it as well as we."

"It is incomprehensible," said the man in gray speaking rather to himself than to, any of the party, '• what a contemptible system I " The two politicians stared at him, and then at one another ; it was clear tbat he and they revolved in different oxbits, Further conversation was, however, cat short by the stoppage of the train, the inevitable inspection of tickets, and the scrambling exit of the two travellers, whose places were not filled up, so that when the train once more started, the stranger and myself were left tete-a-tete. " You are not familiar with our English politics ? " I began. " The fact is that with us parties differ rather in name than in principle." " Principle ! "' he repeated, for tlufjfirst time bending on me a pair of dark eyes, so singularly expressive' tbat I involuntarily started under their gaze. Do you really think such a thing exists ? And then such a want of power — no strength, no firm hold of anything." " Well, I don't know," I replied ; "law is power with us. We don't cling to this man or that, and we are not always raising barricades for ideas, but we keep the laws." And who makes them .' " he inquired. " The people," I replied. " The people ; yes, that is to say that those who are to be'govcrned govern : is that a fair statement ? " " Well, I suppose it is." " Well, then, I repeat, there is no power in that. The laws won't do it, that is clear, it must be the work of individuals." " What is he thinking of ? " I asked myself, in surprise. " What is it that tbe laws won't do ? 1 suspect that he's some American doctrinaire that has come over to the old country to pick holes in our ways and make capital out of abusing us." Yet his eyes still haunted me. By this time he was consulting his Bradshaw. " Perhaps," he said with a courtesy of manner which put my suspicions to the blush, '• perhaps you can tell me if we ai-e near the Oakham Station ? " " The next but one," I replied. And I began to wonder what could be taking him thither. For be it known, dear reader, that the Oakham Station was what one might call a private one. The parliamentary influence of the Dukes of Leven, the old proprietors of the property, had succeeded in placing it in the midst of their plantations at a convenient half-mile from their own mansion, and a most inconvenient three miles from the village which clustered outside their park gates. It was seldom resorted to, save by guests of the great family, and occasional farmers journeying to and from market. My companion was not of the latter class ; and I began to speculate whether he might not be of the former ; an illustrious somebody, for whom I should find the Oakham carriage waiting, and the porters at a white heat of civility Nothing of the sort, however, met our gaze as we descended on the trim little platform. My father's dog-cart, with the well-known face of Jem tlic gardener, prepared to take possession of my bag and portmanteau, was the solitary equipage in view, and the gray traveller looked about him in some perplexity. " How far to Onkhara .' " he inquired of the porter, " Park, sir. or village ? Village, three miles and a half, sir ; Park, clobc at hand." " Oh, then, I can walk ; but what Avill happen to my portmanteau ? "' "Well, sir, you see, sir, bus don't meet this train, it don't, sir ; leave it in the cloak-room, sir, and bus w ; ll call for it at seven. "Where might you be going, sir .' ' •' Well, I suppose, there's an inn of some sort ? " Ob, sure, sir, White Lion ; bus will take it there, sir, all right." And lie was leaving the station when I caught his eye. " You'll have a dusty walk to tbe village by the road," I said ; '• through the plantation it's barely two miles, and a precious deal pleasaiiter. Jem shall show you the way ; or, I say, Jem, is my father at home .' No, .sir, no one at home : it's court day at Bradford, and master couldn't put it off no how ; but he'll be back at seven." "In that case," I said, throwing the reins into liis hand, " I will walk part of the way with the gentleman, and you can take his luggage on with mine, and leave it at tbe White Lion." And in another minute. Jem and the dog cart were lost in a cloud of dust, and I and my unknown companion had struck into the pleasant shade of a thick fir plantation. '• I am truly grateful," he began ; " yet you are not altogether the loser by the transaction. After tbe dust and rattle of that steammonster this green twiligbt is something worth living for. So." he continued, as we emerged from tbe the trees on the brow of a green slope that overlooked a broad expanse of park scenery, terminating with a view of the lordly mansion, " this is Oakham J " There was a softness, a melody in his tones that struck to my heart. He stood there gazing on every feature in the scene with an earnest interest, speaking now and then more to himself than to me, whose presence he hardly seemed to notice. Yes, I understand it better now : beautiful indeed, most beautiful ; this is England ! " •' You are a stranger, I perceive, to English scenery," I said ; >( travellers from America generally find everything so small compared to their own magnificent scale of natural beauty, that it is difficult to get them to admire a home-scene like this." '• Probably, but I have never visited America. I see what set you on that idea," he continued, smiling, '• it was that wcrd about Europe. But lam an Englishman born, though I have passed the best part of my life in Australia, never visiting my country but once since I could walk alone, and then only in a passing way." " And you find it beautiful ? " " Much more than tbat ; the wilderness is beautiful, but this has what the wilderness can never give — life, human life, soul." And his eye glanced towards the tapering spire of the village church, whence came, at that momment, the toll of a funeral bell. " And this Oakham family, has it much hold on the neighbourhood 1 "