CHRISTMAS SUPPLEMENT. TO THE AUCKLAND STAR

AUCKLAND, N.Z.," SATURDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1887,

POETRY.

A Love Story for Christmas Eve.

By W. S. Wills.

ii'Tia five lotag years since dear Jack left me Over and «ver the seas to roam ; The door's ajar, and the lattice window IS lighted to guide the sailor home." Thus an old dame whispered fondly ; «There'sa%ht to guide my darling home; Oh't bring, good ship, my own brave sailor, Jfever again the seas to roam." Thelogburntbrjight.andthesnow descended, Andtbehowling blast mourn'do'er the lea; Th? mother's heart kept fondly beating— «'MyJac^willcome home some day to me." Jesse —a maiden of twenty summers— Decked hereelf in her Sunday best; Her true heart sang a lover's anthem, "Jack's coming home from the Golden ■ ' West." H'Tifl now," said the maiden, "five long winters That you and I have kept Christmas Day, You are hopeful ever and ever, For, a loving heart will trust and pray. "And a fairy tells me some one's coming, Somebody's coming wo love the best; gbeed, good ship, with thy precious burden, And bring Jack home from the Golden ; . West." i'Ah! dear," said the dame, " God grant it ,':'.' ever That a loving heart its mate may find ; Tfpfl were a child when poor Jack left us for the angry wave and the raging wind. wTwas Christmas Eve—l well remember Bow wild and cold the night winds blew; 'There's a fortune, mother,' he softly I whispered, I And you know your Jack is always true. '• 'Keep little Jess, and love her fondly, She's a neighbour's child—her friends are dead; I ' She'll be a daughter to you, dear mother, \ ' but some day we may' wed V " **H*fpj" said the girl, "I hear him coming, i 'Iffifo Ms voice, singing " Ship ahoy !'" And the dame went out in the wintry ' weather ; To meet and welcome her sailor-boy. ilwas Jack, and fondly he kiss'd the mother, | ." And where is Jesse—sweet Jesse Moore ? And who's this lady with silken tresses I . Standing so shyly beside the door ?" ;ji Tor Jeas was shy—she thought to welcome I \ Bar bpy-like lover of days gone by; Ifhis was nofc Jack, she dreamt of ever— This Handsome sailor—standing nigh ? So "Good day, sir," "Miss Moore, good f evening ;"- This was the welcome 'twixt the two; But Jack, like a sailor, blunt and hearty, Crtod, "Well, my messmates, but this i won't do. ; "I'vb come back from the stormy ocean, From over the1 seas of the Golden West; I meant to marr y my little playmate, . F«r, next tqinother, I loved her best. "Bat.' Good day, sir,' is cold politeness; JSeattle my ship on a dark lea shore, Bnf.Pfl heave my anchor in the morning, And roam the wjde world o'er and o'er." "Its all right, Jack," the toother answered; P''Why Jessie, thought you were still a ~ " ■*°y ; Bui you've grown so handsome now, my • darling, ' And maidens, you know, are always shy." "b tha,fr so, mate ? why, you know a sailor Must grow as well as maidens do; lou were but a child when I left you, But I dreamt you'd grow, and I've iound itso., '■ Bless my.Btars ! you've grown a beauty, i Your eyes like sunraye flash and beam; Itotfahd trim, you're a, royal cutter, iASuJ your, figure-head is like a queen.." ' And somehow (ab> it is ever the story) i His arms around her waist he threw ; ' Mi Jess]e found her boy-like lover ~, . i . Was her own Jack, so fond and true. "And ribwi my mother, stir up the-fire ;• .Blaze up ; the Christmas log for tao ; Hi stay at home and build a cottage, And roam no more o'er the raging sea. ''And you shall have the Indies' cabin, Ill.fit itup.for a queen ivi state; and I'll be captain of the clipper, And Jessie shall be the captain's mate." ■■"■%s& eve when hearts are merry, , r «aaloveis ever fond and blest: May every maiden find her jailor ; M true as Jack, from the Golden West.

ACROSTICS.

The Stab Christmas Number.

4*ay with all sorrow and sadness 9&e ready the mistletoe bough ; l^bellish each home with bright gladness, pftt merry we'll all be I trow. fkceivingand giving warm greetings, iouth and age in true sympathy meeting. §>ime firth, ye bells, a welcome peal, ffwald the joyful news afar; •chewed again are festal scenes, « every Home is seen a Star. KJ?U is the price, and1 great the boon «his brilliant Stab on all bestows ; yay its bright rays still chase the gloom, i%Sent your joys, and soothe your wops. *«» then, to publish near and far the Vorth of this bright Evening Stab. '% -Febn Leaf.; 12th November* 1887.

OUR GUMDIGGERS.

ROSE present our readers with a *^\ wi w$ series °f sketches illustrative of /7|VriM<> the life of the gumdigger. ty&jiig^S The collection of kauri gum is' an industry peculiar to the provincial district of Auckland, and the annual export of the commodity from this city average 8 about £270,000. The gum, which is largely used in the making of varnish, and the sart> is worth, from £35 to £45 per ton in

Auckland; the price varying with the Condition of the market. But it is more with the gumdigger than the gum that we have to do at present. There are probably 8000 to 10,000 men engaged in. the industry from year's'ond to year'i end, and though a large proportion of the gumdiggersare ne'er do-wQlls, many of .the men carefully save their earnings and have respectable balances to their credit in, the' Auckland Savings Bank, and other v institutions. The improvi dence of the average gumdigger, like his Compatriot^ the , bushman, however, ia proverbial. After slaving for months,, away from the oomforts of civilization, poor " gummy " will tramp to the nearest town. ship, and probably " melb " his cheque in a lew days over the bar of a bush shanty.

During this season of " Peace on earth and good-will to men, tho condition of the gum digger, with a view to the amelioration of his lot, might be considered. Surely the Christian, men and women of this city could devise some method -of bringing these ■ workers under influences that would tend to their moral and physical welfare. That noble charity.the Seamen's Rest, might well be duplicated on behalf of the gumdigger and bushman. Of our pictures.No. 1 depicts a gumdigger "striking.a, patch." The gum-lands are vast barren fern-clad regions, all indica tions of the noble kauri trees that once grew, there being, obliterated with the exception sometimes of little conical mounds of earth which mark the spots where giants'of the forest once reared their mighty columns. Coming to one of these mounds the digger pierces the earth with his spear—a sharp ened bar of iron attached to a spade handle.

The experienced digger knows by the sound of the contact when his spear touches gum, and seizing his spade he digs away until he has unearthed the patch. Gum is found in all sizes and quantities. Sometimes a lump weighing a hundredweight will be dis covered, but as » rule the resin is in small pieces a few ounces in weight. An»n.™ oah xsolleeb MO lbs. in a week is considered lucky, but the average quantity ia 40 or 50 lbs., worth, say £1. Sketch No. 2 represents a party of diggers just" returned from an arduous day's work, scraping their gum. This is done with a jack-knife, which is part of every digger's equipment. No experienced hand will allow his gum to remain unscraped over night, as the scum of earth and rubbish soon hardens with exposure to the air, and much more serious labour would be entailed. No. 3 depicts a gumdigger in camp pre paring the coming meal. Gumdiggers are great tea drinkers, and a pannikin of tea forms an important part of every repast.

NO. I.—STEIKING A PATCH.

No. 3, WAITING TILL THE EETTIE BOILB.

THE FESTIVE SEASON.

BEFORE DINNER.

AFTER DINNER.

LITERARY COMPETITIONS.

With a view to encourage the cultivation of literature in New Zealand, and at the §ame time provide additional attractions for the special Christmas number of the Auckland Star and " New Zealand Farmer," the proprietor of these journals, in the month of October last, offered a number of prizes for series of five com petitions as follows: — No.Vi, Christmas Tales ; No. 2, Ladies' Competition (for stories illustra tive of female love, devotion, and self-sacrifice) ; No. 3, Juvenile Competition for the best descrip tions of New Zealand scenery and the best narrative of New Zealand life and adventure ; No. 4, Conundrum Competition; and No. 5, Humorous Competition. There were a large number of competitors for the several prizes, upwards of 100 separate manu scripts being sent in, amongst the competitors being some of the best known story writers in the colony.

LADES' COMPETITION.

Fob Tales written by ladies only, and having for subject the love, devotion, self>sacrifice» o r heroism of woman :— Ist Prize, Miss J. Outhwaite, Auckland ... ... ....... ... £2 2nd Prize, Mrs. Harris, Thames Handsome Illustrated Book. Upwards of 34 competitors forwarded manuscripts.

A Christmas Letter.

By Miss J, Outhwaite, Auckland.

ES! You can count us on your fingers. We only number ten spinsters, and that is taking me hiri. I should notbe'here iat all to-night —my social position. doesn't warrant my presence) only you see dancing ladies are so very Bcarce."

" Social position, you say, Mjss: Stsavely ? I thought colonial life was a. great lovelier ; but I fail to see why a woman i of- culture and the daughter of a post captain should seek a reason to explain her presence Here.'

" I will do you justice, Mr Everard, and believe that you look at matters from a man's point of view. My fellow women in the room look at me askance and tolerate me as Miss Ramsay's governess. . At the same time, I fear you flatter. First you do me justice, then follow it up by injustice. Men do not flatter womenthey truly admire. But why have you not brought your pupil, Miss Ramsay, with you ?, At least in her you will allow me to find a reflection of yourself. I quite hoped to have met her to night, and we sail so soon." : "Her father thought her tired after her own juvenile party last evening, and aa the phrase is, she is not out. We had a merry time, had we not? One could almost have fancied we were spending Christmas-tide in Old England. I trust Ethel is in dreamland now. She has lately taken a fancy to wan dering about when the owls are abroad, and I have had to make her promise that she would not go down to the beach again after sunset."

"Thatwaaunkindofyou. Ihavewandered there several evenings hoping to meet you, and that I might persuade you to tell me another local Maori legend. What was the heroine's name ? I mean the dusky maiden who escaped from her tribe on Mount Eden, and, climbing the Christmas tree, hid wait ing until her lover came in his canoe from the isles in the gulf; then fled with him, pursued, but not captured by her people.' tier's was, indeed, a happy fate! I am thinking seriously of leaving the service and turning colonist. One of those islands

would make an ideal farm and the life would be purely Utopian. What do you say to my plans?" "Pretty, theoretically, but practically—" "Impossible, you were going to add. Not so, if the maiden will be willing. Shall we finish this waltz? after which I must leave. Duty calls me on board early to night." "Early? Why you have not been here half an hour! Duty indeed! You haven't danced one duty dance ! See there! Our Colonial Treasurer, when the Government coffers are empty, lie shuts up Mb office and says he has a pain in his chest. You must pay your respects to Miss Treasurer. But you really are not going? This is some 6udden resolve." • . • . , .

He looked at me and held my hand. Hi 3 eyes met mine. His was an inquiring gaze, inscrutable tome ; it seemed almost to say : "What will you think ?" "Goodnight," he' said, and, '' you have been very kind to me," and he was gone. Kind to him? I had been kind to him. What did be mean ? Love speaks not of kindness ; friendship and kind ness are akin, and friendship, after love, is tame, insipid. Others asked .me to dance, I declined. I was tired, Isaid, tired like some exhausted medium after \ a long seance.- Putting on a large dark wrap over my black; net dress, I went out. , , ~

A soft northerly breeze barely rippled; the phosphorescent waters of theWaitemata, fruit laden canoes were drawn up on the sands, and groups of Maoris lounged round, their night fires supping on pipis or passing round their pipes. I passed them by, these light-hearted ones, nature's own children, and envied them their carelessness of tho morrow and what it mighfa bring, rl was alone, a poor governess, and I sat me down on the knarled roots of the pohutakawa

trees that, now o'orhang a busy, dusty thoroughfare. The sand lay tapestried wilbh the crimson needles golden tippe^. shed from the gorgeous flowers, and soft to the feet as a Turkey carpet, so soft that I did not observe the approach of a graceful" girl until her light skirts touched mine. She did not see me in my black garments wherß I sat in deep shadow.

Springing on to one of the lower branches j of" the tree, she drew from her bosom a ■ ' letter, and placed it in a. crevice of tfee' trunk. Then poised like a bird about to 1 take flight, she shaded her eyes with Her j hands and scanned the water towards tho man-of-war that Hay in "the anchorage. A black tspeck came round the bows, and soon the dip of oars sounded through ihe stillness.--;,,;. -. .•■ , :■.'. v,. '..- . V .;. •-;/,■. ■ ,■, "Oh, that I .dared !" I heard her say. "Oh George, I must see you again; but no, I have promised !" She said no more, looked seawards for a time, and then I saw' her clamber up the cliffs. ■■ v-1i .» ;

" George !" I turned cold. Was that letter .for [ George ?,, Did .he love, her ? George I .who had ;savqd,iiw life^in Heki's recent :war, at-^orarareka...., It all eanie ;be-| fore me now. He had sought my j society so•, thati he might meet-jEtJel—Stb^el, myi sixteen-year-dM pupil; .and she>^ a mere child, ,was carrying on a clandestine corres pondence with him,i as the letter put in the crevice proved. -~ >r, ; " ~', ',"■■'-.■':; :) -What was Ito dp?" ' '.■ *■},

As her; governess possess myself of that letter andhandit:Qver to her, father? Poor old man, i.HisJ^ad was full of tie flora and fauna of the new pountry. True, Ethel was his one .:::human darling, and she! divided, his thoughts with his ferns ands other ■ rare specimens. Mother she had none. I was five and twenty, and I looked upon Ethel as a child, and loved hei as a' younger sister. Now. jealousy gnawed at my heart. Only women who have had their; lovo thwarted can khqw its torture. I resolved to conquer, and told myself that I had been a fool. I burned to clutch1 that, letter, and was about to rise when I heard, the tune to which I had so lately waltzed softly whistled, and I heard him approach. I crouched down lower, lower. He pub his foot on the root of the tree, and stopped down to- tie his shoe. I' felt his warm; breath on my cheek." Then he searched for and found the letter' and read; it by the light of a small lantern which he carried.,

All the while I could see the happyfplay of his handsome mobile features. Taking pencil; and paper from his pocketi-book, hei wrote a long reply. I could have read it over his shoulders, for he had turned'his; back and was wholly, absorbed. ,Then placing his missive in the crevice of the tree he joined the boat1 that was apparently, waiting for him. I nat there for a long time, I do not know how long, alone withi my conscience, until a lioisy crew of boys came along in quest of the brilliant Christmas flowers. They swarmed up the tree and I heard one exclaim; " Here's a bill or a letter i for some ones sweetheart." " Let's have a read," 3aid one, /' No," was th^retprt, "that wouldn't be honest; stick it up higher."

I had been afraid to move lest Ethel shouldiavebeenlookingottfrom the cliffs, but when I reached home I found her sleep* ing, and wondered nob thatj^ho loved her,

A warm health-glow coloured her cheek, fart a joy for ever." ,

Chapter 11.

H. M.S. Dido had sailed suddenly, under sealed orders, we were told. ■ • My pupil came to me saying, W feel so idle to-day, Miss Stavely, -I cannot study, and I care nob to work or sing. You are busy with father's plants. May I take Donna for a swim—the tide is coming up ? . . > « Yes," I replied, "and I will join you, by and by. We can finish our sketch, lake, your book and colours with.you.' An hour later I found Ethel under thai trees. There was a restless look about hJB eyes. I thought this was the result ol t» letter which she had doubtless found and: read, and regret that George had been j carried off without a word of parting. For myself, I bad not slept. My head was void, I had no one to confide in ; a crushed heart, and a brave face was mine. From that day Ethel was a changed creature. Her power of concentration was gone, she lived out of j dcors, nothing appeared to interest» her. j We had a small but gay garrison, a military band ; she was admired, invited out, soughfc | after in every way, and yet she grew mora, and mote listless. . j I longed for the first ship that would* bring a mail. We had heard that the Dido had left Sydney for England, and I knew] in thoseJMow days, when steam was not, I that a yrar afc least would elapse without! j tiilings. I tried in every way to win the girl's confidence. She appeared to suspect me and shunnft my society. I felt we were becoming estranged, when a sad eveots

drew us together. Old Mr Ramsay had gone far inland into the wilds alone on a botanizing expedition. * He was found dead by some natives—his dear, good face'buried' in the sandy bank of a shallow river which '- he had evidently crossed, and apparently, '{ feeling exhausted, had lain himself down to Test—everlasting rest. . ; . -~■ -r ■■■■' ■.■■■■ ' 'ii' -The moderate> salary Mr Ramsay receivea ; ended,-of course, with him. Those were • j jfrugal times before responsible Govern^' ■ ment. There was no representative to votll! a liberal allowjince to the ornhan. ;§lpw- ] lever, there wßb-a small annuifcy coming' from England, and the neat little cottage in which we lived; this, though, was quite inadequate. I wrote to Ethel's distant \$ relatives in Europe, and pending their reply I resolved to open a school follyoilnlfMdl^s. • This was largely attended, and :iß+#era<i,« first was interested and assisted.- I saw at)' < once, Jrhat our income jyould be. good, and! thought that by takinaßjpme girl boardeW Ethpl would have younjJPcompanions. More than a year had now passed. Spnail arriyed announcing, the arrival of the^Dido, and # of he? having .been paid off and re-c6& missioned, but th^famlliar name of George Eyiei-ifd 'did nofPppear, 1 and we did noO hear of, him in any way. ;•" ' < * I often mentioned ;him:incidentally, and " would express a hope that he would again join a ship for thia station. . ■■*.-.. .* * , Then it struck nle: that Ethel's love was turning in,to bitteraess. If I could havegoij the child to trust me. 3«tnp,her lips seemed sealed, she became terribly restless and njy ainxiety became gpeati I sought advice: The medical meR stated^ that the worst form of melancholia was setting in, and1 strictly* en , jollied, me never to" leave her 'alone. I saw at once that, they feared.self-destruction Time passed on. It yfraa a trymgiif^ _ r est» less nights and laborious dayajfrdared not give up the school, for how weWwe to live ? I was not unhappy. Others had come about pc, two had offered me marriage. I thought) love of that kind was dead, and. that once extinguished couldnot again be rekindled. I did not know then, as I kiow nowi the capabilities of the human heart. I seemed v to have a mission—that was to save Ethel, to save her fob George. ~,; . The end of tbasecond year was fast ap. Sroaching; I hawsent away, my pupils: THe : OCtorsurged me to take rest and bade me w\t my charge under restraint, bat where ? There was no one to take her, no place to put her. A f(|w poor wretched ones i suffer ing from- meiiital aberration were confined below the old courthouse in Queen-stveeli over what wad then known as Kgar's canal. Ethel always shuddered when we passed that way. No ! I could nob part with hei' Christmas came round again with much good cheers and many rejoicings. A golden rimmed summer's moon was rising from the sea. Ethel had stood the whole life-long daae* gazing at the harbour. I took her hanK fpd said, •^Let us go down to the pohuttPl kaWas1." We went. She laid her head upon ' my shoulder and whispered— % " Janet". (she had never called me by savA na,me before),'.' Janet, do youthinkthat tlfll seawould^takeme? I should; like tq dievi No one loves me. T™ .g But I do, Ethel, and George d^'M George, who is he ? Ah yea ! I kofcw him once, but he hates me. now " %

" The Phosphorescent Waters of the Waiiemaia,'*













