CHRISTMAS TALES.

For Tales having special reference to Christmas-time, and having toe scene wholly or partlytlaid in New Zealand :— Ist Prize, Mr. A. W. Horsbrugh, Auckland ... :•• ** 2nd Prize, Mr. Charles Rhoades, Auckland, handsome Volume on <« New Zealand, value ■ ••■ ••• %z t There were 41 competitors in this class.

I v Ejjiz, you are my dlart"

James Turner: A Christmas Romance.

By Arthur Wemyss Horsbrugh, Auckland.

fISE HRHffMAS times are merry •aj| times in the new world as well astheold- So thought Farmer ?j|fii|fg[ Bolson as he watched a troop ♦ willi-*-' °f merry y°un§ folks from the %£V neighbouring farms flocking up '* V the road to his hospitable man sion on Christmas Eve. He was one of the old class of immigrants who, selecting land on the Government terms, had begun in a raupowhareandhad struggled on success fully to a roomy wooden house whose varied styles of architecture suggested the pro gressive additions rendered necessary by the gradual increase of his family and his prosperity. Sheltered by the abrupt out lines of the'neighbouring hills, and nestling in a clump of wellgrown English trees, the farm with its flat home paddocks, where lowed " the milky mothers of the herd,' .lay bathed in the ethereal light of the setting sun that struck a stray window of the house and threw long shadows over the grassy meadows. Nature was gently falling asleep, and a strange deep calm rested over the landscape. Even the dis-^ tant glimpse of the boisterous ocean was peaceful, as, undisturbed by a ripple, it Beemed merely to exist to reflect and repeat the manifold glorie3 of the dying sun. I

Chapter I.

The many-toned voices of Fanner Bolson's visitors wandered through the still clear atmosphere, and served by ' their merry flow merely to accentuate the feeling of repose and contentment which the whole scene engendered. The farmer stood at his door, a well furnished man approaching fifty, with sturdy limb 3 and horny hands to match his bronzed good-humoured and healthy face. But this same face, with its sturdy look of independence and its marks of honest sweat, bore an expression of bewilderment tinged with a shade of annoyance.- For Farmer Bolson had a wife who wa3 a woman of determined character, and like many such, hii a will of her own which did not like to

be crossed,

Bolson was fond of her, as it

was mainly duetto the excellent business like managemfßfci and the painstaking economy she exercised in the household that hia present comfort and prosperity V/ere due. Nor was honest John slow to acknowledge the good points in others, iriuch less to undervalue the estimable qualities of her who had been through many long years cfv labour his faithful helpmate and sole adviser. Nevertheless, our most intimate friends will now and then display a shade of enaracter that we are quite un prepared for, and which apparently con tradicts much of the opinion we have formed of their inner life, and upsets many cherished preconceived ideas on our part. As John Bolson said, " there's no knowing, and we must live and learn." But strange it was that in a young democracy like New Zealand the slight difference between man and wife should have arisen on the question of social status. ,-As a general rule all the colonists are on an equal footing, and one man is as good as

another, or bstter, as the Irighman said. It nu ttera not Whether a man's work be of head or hand, whether his toil is of factory or hill side, so long as his labour is honest and he Lays bi3 way in the social .circle; these Blight ditierences of craft aro laid aside and the man accepted for what he is in himself, apart from his occupation. This is the glorious creed that the pioneers of our young nation have unconsciously adopted and acted upon without meeting to formulate it. Judge then of the farmer's surprise when he found that thewoman,whom he deemed of all others the most hospitable, would have objected to* one of her Christmas visitors, and should have upbraided her husband in no mean terms for his innate stupidity in including some one that she satirically lermed '' The Professor " in their list of com-. m pany for their Christmas merry-making. *W "He's not much of a hand, it's true," Boused John, "and can barely make his but he's honest, quiet, and steady— just the man for a billet; not over bright, i -jbut pleasant, an'ready with/a song; an' why the old woman's so rough on him, it's a caution." Bolson's reflections were interrupted by the arrival of a small party of eager young merrymakers — sturdy lads and buxom * lasses, with strong limbs and healthful pro portions, that spoke volumes for their native land and its future prosperity. These the lolly farmer received with outspoken heartiness and open-handed hospitality, for on an occasion like* this John was at his Besfc. His two daughters, who towered above their father in graceful comeliness, ably seconded his efforts to provide for the jj comfort and amusement of the guests. P Maggie, the elder girl, todlc after her mother, being tallost and bearing a look of responsibility and decision of character far h. beyond her years imprinted on her straight, I strongly - marked features. Effie, the --younger, was of a different style altogether. :> She seemed to have acquired the best points of both her parents, and to combine in &

remarkable degree the genial laughter loving comradeship of her father with the clear-headed capacity of her prudent mother. Moreover she was the belle of the district round, and although displaying great tact in the furtherance of any object she had in view, had a way of her own, and generally, got it. Pen and ink cannob paint er beauty—the quick flashes of her brilliant grey eyes fringed with their long curled eyelashes—the rapid glow of her fleeting blush, and the easy rounded grace of her elegant movements. Beside ncr all the other rural beauties were commonplace; '.' as the fading stars in the morning sky pale before the advent o* the sun." She was her father's favourite child, and she it was that could coax.,her mother into over looking the peccad los of the younger brothers, . always the most boisterous members of the household.

On horse and foot the neighbours came trooping in until the large sitting-room seemed filled to overflowing with youth and strength and animal spirits. In the centre of the room the farmer's daughters had spread a snowy tablecloph over the extensive table, and were quietly busied in heaping up the huge piles of home-made cakes, buns, and other substantial Christ mas dainties.

The guests filled every available space round the walls, and gossiped on all the important events of the country-side until the whole room rang again with laughter and chattering. When the preparations for the feast were yearly completed, Mrs Bolson, whose culinary duties had hitherto detained her, made her appearance. This, was a signal for more handshaking and seasonable compliments as she moved round the room shaking hands with all her guests and inquiring after absent neighbours. She had nearly completed her round, and Maggie was in the act of bringing in a huge turkey, when the outer door" opened and a young man entered, cap in hand. There are some people who carry about with them an indefinable air of being in the world and not of it—mere spectators of the drama in which we all pla.y our parts. Sdme ordinary good fellow'will bustle into a crowded room and hardly interrupt the conversation by his greetings, while a quiet pale man will enter like a shadow, and turn the attention of all upon him to the total suspension of speech, in the presence of these weird personages we feel uncom fortable, as if they were looking over our shoulders and listening to every word we say; and we resent this by calling them wet blankets, and talking about Dr. Fell. Are they the connecting links with some invisible world not patent to the ordinary five senses '!

However that *may be, the entrance of James Turner, for so he called himself, though made in a quiet,unobtrusive manner, had the effect of chilling all the talk into silence, and making everyone feel shy, stiff, and uncomfortable. • Every eye was turned on the tall, lank figure of the newcomer, who stood nervously fumbling with his hat and showing' his embarrassment by his awkward pose. Yet there was nothing in his thin, delicately-cut features, his straight tawny hair, or his closely-trimmed beard to excite surprise or dislike, —-.nothing but a dreamy look in his steel blue eyes, and the strange mark on the expression which is left by grief or illness, or both—a mark that might be called the brand of sorrow to account for the feeling that he was not altogether an everyday person. His man ner was so perfectly inoffensive as almost to give rise to quiet contempt or outspoken ridicule, according to the differences of mental texture.

Nevertheless, his appearance, as we have said, checked the flow of merriment, and for a few seconds stilled the conversation. He was the first to break the silence by addressing Mrs Bolson, and wishing her the compliments of the season ; but the pitch and intervals of his voice sounded strangely foreign and caused Effie to start and upset a tower of buns which had been carefully raised amidst the rest of the good cheer. This interruption, and the bustle of pick ing up the scattered dainties, restored the ordinary tone to the company, and though Mrs Bolson gave him an icy smile and a cold hand-snake, honest John slapped Turner on the shoulder, and bade him make himself at home. Effie, blußhing over her. mishap, hardly acknowledged his presence, ,but bustled around rather more quickly than usual to complete the prepara tions for the Christmas feast. At last all was ready, and the guests, many of whom had come a considerable distance to partake of the feasting and fun, sat down to do ample justice to the substantial viands spread before them.

Cha^TEE IL

The feast was over. The'skeleton of a turkey was aU that remained of the plump bird that had graced one end of the table; the plum pudding had been a pronounced success, and the buns had been nearly an nihilated, in the fray, while the apples, prunes, oranges and lemons of the farmer's oWn growing had played ho unimportant part at the conclusion of the vigorous fight between appetite and plenty. The fanner's daughters had gathered up the fragments, and now,' assisted by most of the guests, were engaged in washing up the dishes and removing the evidences of the conflict. The Work was the occasion of much fun and laughter, anything in the shape of a joke passing muster, and affording the oppor tunity for a burst of merriment.

A few sobersides sat by Farmer John, who narrated in a quiet ruminating manner some of the experiences of his early days. How he was burned out nineteen years back come February, befdre this house was built, How the Maoris had been so close to the farm that he was obliged to leave cattle, sheep and everything, and fly with his wife and his two small children to a neighbouring block-house for safety, and how he came through the Maori war, and after many hairbreadth escapes had to come back to start his farm Amongst his most attentive listeners was James Turner, who steadily rose in John's good graces by his attentive manner. For if Bolson liked any one thing more than another, it was an appreciative audience to his somewhat long winded narratives. : ■•

Mrs' Bo'lson sat at the other end of the room talking to a middle-aged neighbour of the late fall in the prices of dairy produce, and the small demand for well-bred poultry. Her labours were considered to be at an end when the culinary matters were completed, but heir busy fingelra had I found employ ment—to them .a second nature—in the manufacture of stockings from her home ppwci "ffpdl. Physically, time had dealt

lightly with her, for though the mother of few children,'she seemed still, in the prime of life, and so robust, and well-preserved as to have a long lease of life yet before her* But though the hurrying years had left but slight traces on her health, her past struggles, her years of toil, and perhaps the Free and easy temperament of her spouse had just tinged her temper with a suspicion of sourness. It was hardly her fault, poor woman; her trials had been too much fot her temper, and it was a wonder that it had suffered and stood out so well. She was a good mother and a careful wife, but seemed to act more from a sense of fitness and a pride in her belongings than from a natural love of the objects of her care. As her busy fingers plied their task with almost mechanical accuracy, she glanced every now and then at James Turner, while her lips gtw a trifle thinner than usual, and her eyes took a shade of uneasiness. Effie too seemed to come in from the kitchen almost oftener than * necessary, while Turner's eyes followed her every move ment. The mother's quick eye noted her daughter's interest in the young man, and marked the changes on Turner's face from eager interest to dull appreciation of Bol son's tales, all these slight signs going to confirm her previous suspicions that there was some secret understanding between the two. So in the midst of dropping and taking up stitches, and the discussion of the market rates, her astute brain was at work as to the means to be taken to over throw the enemy and prevent her daughter from being ensnared by a man who could hardly earn his own tucker, far less support a wife. The washing up was completed, and the shining delf arranged in mathematical order on the white well-scrubbed shelves. The younger guests trooped back to the sitting room, and a period of sleepy, well-fed con tentment followed. Now it was that individual preferences amongst the opposite sex began to be manifest, and a series of mild flirtations were carried on. But the farmer proposed a game of "Old Maid"; so the ancient cards were produced, and the company sat round and entered with zest into the solemn responsi bilities of the game. Laughter and joking were freely indulged in, but the fun reached its climax when the fates decreed that James Turner was to be the old bachelor. Ono young lady,who had ridden some fifteen miles to be present, and whose turbulent animal spirits were always a source of un easiness to herself, thrust her handkerchief into her mouth, and restrained herself at the risk of her life. But the laughter died away at last, and then the tables wero cleared, the piano opened, and the dancing began with a robust vigour that argued well for the physique of the dancers. First a quadrille, then waltz, polka, and country dance without intermission ; and through them all the jolly farmer's rotund figure might be seen careeriDg about, as he said himself, like a two-year-old. Bub Mrs Bolson's needles never stopped j she sat like

fate at the top of the room, watching every thing, but making few remarks. At last she noticed a paper on the floor—she quickly J ricked it up. It was a letter, and had alien from James Turner's pocket. 'As she read the address on the envelope her face flushed, and she quickly left the room to examine its contents in a quieter place. Gaining her own apartment, she struck a light closed the door, and sat down with the letter in her hand. The envelope was rubbed, worn, and frayed, and was addressed to "Frank Gellatly, Esq., The Limes, Worcester, England." Here Mrs Bolaon paused for a moment. She felfc an intense curiosity to read the letter, but was restrained by her better nature. But a mother's fear for her daughter overcamo all other considerations, and she felt almost justified in martyring all petty scruples on "Effie's account. In another instant she had the letter open before her, and had possessed herielf of its contents. Here they are: Auckland, 11th May, 138 My dearest Frank, For God'B sake forgive the past and come to mt. lam alone in a strange land with our in/ant boy and not a penny. My liealth, though for a time much improved, has again broken down, and lam confined to bed, and unable to work. Excuse this hurried scrawl, but oh, forgive and come. Tours ever affectionately, AMELIA RENTON.

Chapter 111,

In New Zealand we sometimes have two days in the twenty-four hours—not that the sun either lingers or hastens in his passage towards this favoured land, but that his lunar substitute possesses nearly the same power of illumination as the great father of light himself. How delicious is the calm silver brilliancy of the moonlight to eyes tired of the artificial yellows of the lamps. How cool the balmy zephyr fronvthe sea on the heated cheek of the dancer.

The merry-makers'have paused) heated with their exertions and a mild baritone voice is giving "Nancy Lee" with a chorused obligate But doors and windows are opened, and many of the company are wandering in the flower garden and planta tions that surround the farmhouse.

The night is warm, but not sultry; over head the dark arch of heaven is studded with all its brilliant jewellery, innumerable, immense and wonderful. On one side the horizon dips to the surface of the lifeless ocean, on the other is sharply broken by the serrated edges of the volcanic ranges that tower in majestic silence towards the stars. Black, sharp shadows take the place of v the rugged ravines that wrinkle the mountain sides, while at intervals a stray bullock or a restless sheep may be seen moving slowly over the flat pasture lands. Everything at hand perfectly clear and distinct, but with a total absence of colour. A* strange unreality is given to the land scape, a sense of unearthliness, possessing a charm entirely its own and giving the farmhouse, with its lighted windows, the appearance of a toy-shop transparency. Aided as we are by the acute observation of Mrs Bolson we are not surprised to discover that James Turner and Effie have paired off together, and have found a quieb seat in the deep shadow of the house wheie they can interchange a few thoughts sug gested by the beauty of the scene. But ;he .feelings excited by the grandeur of hill, orest, amd ocean fail beside the interest things human have for human nature, and ■ it was notj long e'er agradual transition of thought led James and Effie to talk of J themselves. ; .'■ j Effie, with true ■ womanly instinct, ■ had quite made up her mind that Turner admired her, and bad even confessed to herself that he was extremely interesting; but thfa w«e

the first real opportunity that had offered itself for private converse since Turners appearance in the district a few months back. But it is strange how soon the natural affinities come to know one another, and five minutes' talk made the pair feel as if they were very old friends indeed. Ringing through the still night came the boisterously performed chorus,

" A sailor's wife a sailor's star should be," And as the last echoes died away in the silent night Turner said, abruptly, Mne, you are my star ! " The startling directness of the announce ment or proposal-call it what you will took Effie completely by surprise. She sat silent while he took her hand ana pleaded his cause with earnest fervour. But why intrude on the lover's tete-a-tete ; we have all been young and tasted the sweetness of a first declaration. For her a new world had opened; for him a new future dawned. Leave them to their sweeb, sweet dream. " Bolson ! Bolson ! John !" said Mrs Bol son, in an unusually excited manner. "Come here, I want to speak to you." " Bio-ht you are, mother, speak away, said the jolly farmer, whose animal spirits had got the upper hand of his dignity. " Come in here, and speak sensibly for a minute, John.; we have a scorpion in the house, a perfect scorpion." Honest John made a face and sat down resignedly. " It's the professor," continued his wife. "I knew there was something wrong with him. His name ain't Turner, and he as blackguard. Look at what tumbled out of his pocket." Bolson read the letter, and uttered a long, low whistle. "And, John, I believe he's making love to Effie." , , "Making love to Efße ! The damned scoundrel, where is he ?" The farmer rushed off excitedly, and soon found the person he was in search of. There was a noise of a sharp scuffle, and the angry tones of Bolson exclaiming— " Never show your face here again, or Then Bolson returned with his daughter, who was weeping bitterly. "You saucy hussy," said the angry father, " to stand up for a man that comes here under another name, and has a wife and child of his own." " I don't believe it, father." " You don't believe! See, read that; and overflowing with passion he handed the girl the fatal letter, and loft her. The guests, partly alarmed, partly amused, flocked to say goodnight, and their adieus occupied the old man until the last small knot of merrymakers had disap peared in the fairy shadows of the moon- Chapter IV. Weeks passed by, and New Year's Day became a bygone mark on the almanacs. Matters on the farm settled down to the ordinary every-day life. The fat steers

sold badly, but fcho bacon tamed out heavy; the wool did not-, fetch a long figure, but butter and eggs slightly advanced in price. Mrs Bolson had finished her pair of socks ever bo long ago, and had begun the winter clothing for the youngest boys. But Eftte went about her daily tasks in a dead, inert manner, and, in spite of the kindly sorrow of her father and the reproachful looks of her mother, persisted in hoping against hope, that there was, as she said, " some dreadful mistake."

11 You know, daddie," she said quietly, " the woman that wrote that letter was not the same name as James——"

"Same name, lass; has he not two, perhaps three or four ¥' So Eflfie would retire to have a good cry by herself. But all this told on her health and she began to droop and wither like a rosebud touched by a cruel frost. Just about the latter end of May, how ever, a horseman rode up to the barn where the farmer wan busy, and asked to speak with him. The stranger was neatly and quietly dressed, and handed a card to Bolson with the name Frank -Jellatly on it. John looked up surprised. " Turner ? " he said.

" Yes, I was fenown to you by that name," replied the stranger. " Did T not forbid you my house ? " ' " Yes, but circumstances alter cases. On parting from you on Christmas night I found at—at home a letter from my lawyers telling me that I hiad succeeded to a moder ate fortune by the death of an aunt, and urging me to come home without delay. I started at once, reached England, con claded my business,1 and have now returned to ask your consent to marry your daughter Effie." ' "Ay, ay," he said, "all very fine, but i how about you* other wife ?" " Sir," returned the other, "I never have been niurried."

"Come, then, and Fll show you a little keepsake you left us," and the farmer led the way info the house and asked Gellatly to be ueated while he fetched something. Bolson soon returned with the letter, " There," he said; "fa that your property?" " It is," replied GeTlatly with a pained ex pression. '" This, I may tell you, is a letter from a poor sister of mine who married a man called Ren ton, entirely beneath her. They cam© out to Auckland and for some years we heard nothing of them as my father was so hurt that he refused to hear my sister's name mentioned. Then, the brute (her husband)) deserted her and left her, and in the struggle for existence she de veloped consumption, to which my family have been somewhat subject. In answer to that letter I arrived in .Auckland just in time to ccc her before her death, and to bury her and her child in the same grave. For my action in coming out hero my father dis inherited me, and as he died .shortly after my sister the whole of his property passed to a distant relative. This compelled me to labour fora living, and I changed my name to ' Turuer,' under which name 1 made your acquaintance." "Well, well, well!" exclaimed honest John, " live and lam. I say, * live and lam.' But what'll the missus say ? Isn't that a romance for ye V ' What the missus said must.have been favourable to the lovers, for the wedding bells rang out in Auckland not many weeks later, and since then they have reared a large and increasing family in the bright sunshine and clear atmosphere of the Brighter Britain.

Faith is sometimes personified as a drenched female clinging to'a sea-washed rock ; but a better personification would be a bald-headed man buying a bottle of patent hair restorer, . ■-.. . -4 vi .... i ..„ . .

Mature was gently falling asleep.

" Pow don't believe ? See, read that"

Christmas Day in Silver Gully.

By Charles Rhoades.

Chapter I,

Second Prize Story

fijiRHE evening sun shone iingeringly into the " valley of the Taupira as though loth to vanish behind the snow - capped ranges, and a white mist crept slowly over the lake as the dying god sank into rest, sending noisy flocks of wild duck, teal, and curlew into the flax and rushes that skirted the deep and silent water.

The valley of the Taupira, or as it was more commonly called, Silver Gully, was situated near the Great West Coast Road, that cuts through two provinces, right across the Middle Island, over high moun tains, through steep gorges and narrow passes, from sea to sea. Five years prior to the time about which we are writing an ambitious township flourished in the gully, which was misnamed "Silver," for a more precious metal lay beneath the coil, and ran in quartz reefs up into tho hills. Most of the gold had now been worked out, for the field was rushed at its opening by eager diggers, who sank shafts, tunnelled into hills, aud blasted rocks till they unearthed the greatest part of the auriferous deposit. The lake, being in such proximity to the diggings, greatly assisted the gold-hunters with its exhaust less water supply, who, in their gratitude for its sparkling silver bounty, named the new-found goldlield Silver Gully, after the natural reservoir, Silver Lake. A few miners still dwelt in the gully, and one hotel remained intact, where the owner, fat Giles Pearne, dispensed liquors, news, and good advice over the broad Dar counter. The miners were hurrying in from their claims in twos and threes, gaily conversing, and exchanging rough witticisms, for it was Christmas Eve, and the morrow would bo a day of rest and recreation for the men, fearful and wonderful cookery exploits for the women, and sports for the juveniles. Christmas Day is a day of rejoicing throughout the length and breadth of Christendom, and even in tho broken backed, worked-out mining community of Silver Gully, tho people had rallied all their energies to make the morrow as jolly as their limited means allowed. Every few miles along tho Great Road men were stationed to keep their different sections repaired with the stones quarried from the rocks close by or dug from the side of the track. One man, the nearest located to Silver Gully, was tramping through the bush with his long-handled hammer, pick and shovel, slung across his shoulder. He was a young man, tall, bronzed, and dirty, with pleasing features, laughing blue eyes, and dark auburn curls peeping beneath his broad grey wide awake hat. That ho was good tempered could bo Boen by the patient manner he disentangled the prickly "lawyer" that persistently seized his legs, also by the easy laujrh that greeted scratches doalt by the " wild Irishman" (a gigautlo goose berry bush minus the fruit), and tho smart blows a disturbed Bupplcjaok would fly back and promptly doliver on his tight fitting corduroy panto. '

After & few minutes' patient scrambling he reached a hut nestling amidst a bower of gigantic ferns, with one grand nikau nearly forty feet high standing sentinel over it The door stood open, the man entered, and throwing down his tools in one corner, started, in a business-like manner, to pre pare his evening meal. Bacon does not take long to fry and less time to eat, so our solitary soon finished his frugal supper, cleared the table, and lighted his pipe. "Can't make it out!" muttered the man, taking a few rough pieces of etone from his coat pocket. " This stone differs from the usual road metal. I'll have to quarry higher up for softer stuff, I suppose. If I were not so jealous of my seclusion here and so morbidly wrapped up in myself I'd ask some of the miners about it; but it does not matter much anyway." And he care lessly flung it into a corner where a little heap of the same material was, piled. Se clusion breeds soliloquy ; our solitary friend thought hard, and muttered deep.

"Christmas Eve, just three years ago, sime I-wa's turned like a" dog from my h»tn9. Well* I was to blame, I suppose, or I should not be patching up roads at the antipodes."' And then, as he stared at the hot embers on the hearth, it all came back to him again, standing out bare and unvarnished. He saw his wasted youth, his widowed mother's grief, and that last miserable scene, Avhen his crowning folly had stung his gentle, long-suffering, mother into words of fierce reproach. He could see the flash ing eyes and trembling figure as she stood erect pointing to the door of the home, commanding him in words that cut his heart like knives to leave her roof till he could bring beneath it a cleaner life. He remembered how he slunk away determined to wipe out all past folly by living a nobler, better life; and again, when night came oh, ha crept up the snow-covered garden and peeped in at the window of the room, where bis mother sat, sad and silent, by the fire, with her sole companion, an orphan niece, nestling at her Knees. He saw himself again, after hours of waiting in the cold, knocking at Edith's window, and the tear ful face that met his, and cried upon his shoulder, had remained ia his heart, nelping him through many a tough struggle against old habits and inclinations. Ho felt again the hand clasp of his dearest friend, and remembered the hearty parting words :— " Cheer up, old boy ; it will all come right some dayV Truth must float; you can't eink it for ever. I don't believe you could do a mean thing,—and as for forging a cheque—pah !--the idea is absurd !" r And his friend was right. ■ He had been foolish, extravagant, wild; but no forger. Appearances were against him so strongly that even hia mother believed him guilty. But he was innocent of that crime. So*he sat thinking. The night crept on and the

fire went out. Rats raced across the floor, mosquitos buzzed around his head, sandflies settled on his neck, and feasted to; their hearts' content. The silvery moon flooded the hut with her light, and wondered why he was not in bed preparing for to-morrow's fun. The locusts chirped away outside, a saucy black owl cried " more-port" ac him till he was hoarse, a Maori, hen shrieked at him with all her might, after picking up the crumbs at his feet,—still he sat thinking. 1 firmly believe brooding all night over one's misfortune instead of going to bed sensibly and dreaming of impossible delights tends to temporarily overbalance one's reason, or how can we account for what our solitary friend did? Just as the sun was timidly peeping over the ranges before taking his morning leap into the cloudless sky, our friend started from his seat with a shiver, though it was far from cold, and stared wildly around him.

"Up all night, and it's now Christmas Day," muttered he, sleepily. " Three years an exile with the prospects of three more. By gad, I'll end it all this morning—this cursed anniversary of my misery. No more brooding, solitary, miserable. No one will miss me. I've thought of this before. To-day I'll do it."

It seems ridiculous to relate, but it is a fact nevertheless: Our misguided young friend took a gun from the wall, ascertained that it was loaded, gravely .tied apiece of cord.to the trigger, sleepily sat back in his chair, placed the butt end of the weapon between his knees, after tying the end of the cord to his big toe. It seems absurd, but he did it. *

"Goodbye, misery," murmured he, placing the muzzle in his mouth.

Chapter II

This Christmas Eve old Giles Pearne Bat at his door indulging in pleasant dreams and tobacco, while his black-eyed, saucy daughter Bess wa# flitting about the bar lighting the lamps, and placing bunches of bright red Christmas flowers, robbed from the shoreß of Silver Lake, round about the walls. One by one the miners having finished their day's labour, strolled up to the hotel and conversed about local topics ; then, as the cool night wind swept up the gully, they entered the cheerful kerosene lighted bur and played euchre, Yankee grab, and billiards with tho eagerness of men whose lives are spent in works of severe labour and whose amusements are limited. About midnight the coach arrived, causing the usual weekly excite ment in the small community. It was quite an understood thing in Silver Gully that the ooach should spend its Christmas with them, yet Giles, every successive Christmas Eve, expressed the same surprise and asked the same question of the driver. 11 Hullo, Sam. Ain't it lucky you should git here for Christmas? -How did you manage it ? " "Strange, Giles," Sam - would reply, "but so it ia and has bin goin 1 on nigh on seven years." But it was not at all strange, for Sam purposely timed himself so that he and his old friend Giles could spend their holiday togethor, Sam's owners grumbled ihe flint year or two at the day's delay, but som'o alight aeddent to coach or hones would invariably ' happen, about this time whloh neoesaltatod a day'a delay, bo.-that tluiy werira* lwt Rlftd to wink at tpe lots of time rather than pay for repairs, and lose » day besides, So new >. the holiday was

quite a settled thing. Sam and Giles had known each other in Victoria twenty-five years before, but had parted, neverexpecting to meet again. One day on the Great Road an acident happened to the coach by which the driver was killed. Saitn being in the town at the time got the job. A week afterwards coach pulled up in the Gully, driver dismounted and entered Pearne's hotel. Sam stared at Giles- Gile3 stared at Sam.

"Fancy I know ver," said Sam. v D'ye remember Blankit Flat, Victoria, sixteen years ago ? " asked Giles.

" Rather," answered Sam. Then they recognised each other and " whiskied up." That was the reason Long Sam and Fat Giles always spent their Christmases to gether. There were but two outsides and three insides, as Sam put it, this trip. The nsides were a father, mother and daughter, and the outsides an old gentleman with a very red nose and a black handbag, and a young gentleman, evidently a tourist by his dress and handy baggage. The passengers were soon comfortably settled in their rooms, everything was made snug, and silence reigned over Silver Gully.

Your tourist is generally the las£ to go to bed and the first up in the morning ; he is wise and sees all he can which cannot bo done in bed ; so that it was not surprising our tourist of the coach should be up and out before the mist had rolled off the lake. Giles was up too, not, that he wished to admire the scenery—not he, but he had several matters to supervise and prepare for the day's sports, notably the wrestling ring, for he was an old Cumberland man and never tired of relating his exploits.

"Landlord," said the tourist, "Ihave been watching that hut yonder shaded by that gigantic fern tree. May I inquire whose nest that is? It looka strangely isolated from the rest of the township." " Ah, he's a queer chap, he is," answered Giles. "He works on the road, but we only see him once a week, when he fetches his tucker. He makes no friendii."

"Ah, an old miser or misanthrope," laughed the tourist. " He ain't old," said Giles; " ttbout your own age, I reckon." "One of Froude's.Oxford younegentle men. Too exclusive for us, no doubt." This was too much for Giles, who went on roping-in a circular sawdust-strewn piece of ground for the wrestlers to knock themselves about in. Breakfast was early this morning j every one looked bright and cheery as the ' Merry Christmases " were freely and heartily wished. Sam appeared in a white waistcoat, stiff and respectable, and'g6irig up to Giles took his hand and wished him "Merry . Christmas and Hapoy New Year,, and long might he live to enjoy 'em."- This was a time-honoured ceremony, and had to be done in a manner suitable to the occasion.

In Sam's hands, it lost nothing in impor tance. They were a very merry party; even the insides thawed from their ex clusive respectability and entered into the fun ; our tourist was in his glory. Bess was seen earnestly whispering to Giles at the conclusion of the»meal, arid'that obese gentleman rose from his chair with a pufczled expression on his jolly red face. "Ladies and gentlemen, and Sam : My Bess has just put a question to me which I thinks should be put to the meeting. You sir (to the tourist) was asking me about that hut on the hill yonder. I told you all I know'd about him, only we calls him Mr Dismal, as he won't chum up with any on us. You, sir, called him a 'proud ox of'a gentleman' or summat. , 1 keeps my opinion to myself. For two years and six months ho has been working on the road, only coming here once a week for his tucker, and once; a month for his wagea from the overseer. My Bess, eaya she, oughtn't we at this here blessed time o' the year to ask him down here to make friends. Ladies and gentleman, and Sam, I oropose we form a depitation to wait on Mr Dismal this blessed minute and pub the matter before him in a Christian spirit." Prolonged applause greeted Giles' proposal. Our tourist thought it fun; Sam, great kind ness on his friend's part; fco think so much of others, and the ladies said it was quite proper that at this Beason of the year peace should reign on earth and goodfellowship reign among men.. Then they looked hard at Bess ana smiled knowingly at that demure young lady. No interested motive had prompted her request, only the interest of a sympathetic nature that wished to see everyone around her happy at this period of rejoicing. The deputation, consisting of Giles, Sam, and the tourist, struck the trail leading ■ towards Mr Dismal's hut, though not without misgivings as to the manner that surly individual would receive their visit. The tourist- never forgot that walk through the sweet-smelling . ti-tree and luxuriant fern that early Christmas morn ing. Above, in the branches of the crimson berried kaikatea, whitechokered tuis whistled a morning greeting ; large ;fat blue pigeons stolidly stored at the intruders, and bright green paraquets darted from bough to bough. . Giles paused at the door of the hut, viciously slapped his cheek, thus spoiling j the breakfast of a swarm of feasting, sand fliep, took off his hat obsequiously, and cleared his throat. Sam straightened his waistcoat, and looked important; the tourist felt bighly amused. •'Mr Blank," said Giles in an insinuating voice.l ' , ' ■" '. ■. ■■■!■■ ■-' No answer. ■ : ;» V Sir," called'he, raising his voice higher. Still all was silent in the hut. Giles stepped nearer, and looked in. Those behind saw his fat neck turn ghastly white, and his knees shake and knock to gether as though ague-struck. "Sam," gurgled Giles hoarsely, "the depitation's come too late. Go in, for God's sake ; he's shot himself dead !" Sam and the tourist rushed in and saw our foolish friend with the gun between his knees, and the muzzle resting against his lips—not dead—but fast asleep. At the supreme moment, when a sudden jerk of the big toe remained between Dismal and eternity, nature had kindly stepped in and sent him fast asleep. You must remember he bad been up all night; and was wearied out by harassing reflections. Sam cut the cord and placed the gun in a corner. Giles still stood trembling at the deor; the tourist was eagerly bending over the sleeping man. Dismal moved and opened his eyes, looking straight into those bending over him. With a crj of delight that nearly killed excited Giles, he sprang into the tourist's arms. "My friend! My friend! At last! At last!" was all be could utter. " Arthur, dear old fellow!" was all the tourist could reply. Verily, men are sometimes weaker than women. Sam and Giles looked on wonderingly, then considerately withdrew outside. An soon as Mr Dismal, or Arthur, which ever you will, recovered from the first de-

lightful shock, he learnt from his friend his | name was cleared, his mother longing for his.return. His friend had been sent to fetch the prodigal, and on his way to the city to institute inquiries, had thus acci dentally found him. And Edith 1 Ah ! I had forgotten her. A special message, sealed by her own fair hand, was placed in Dismal's eager fingers and proved the sweetest Christmas card he had ever re ceived. • Giles poked his jolly red face in at the door, and Sam backed it up with his long lean one. • " Mister Arthur, may we come in ?" "Certainly." "S'pose he'll come down now without the whole deputation V said Giles to the .tOUrfot, :4,.-^ ;■■, ;•;%; : •

corner of the room, BwSSiK?>' around, it seemed that h^Sdr&SB 1! coup-de-grace, but upon feeblyS^f h«. t( Where did!you get thia n!en '' excitedly aWsanfof D&F"1 * ** W ell, take that wav to t\li » The four men passed down- &. mv' where we farst became acqoi&K^ solitary friend, and soon eWe SoJSLJ? hoie where be had been quarryElft road repairing. •.- " ? r 3"6 «* " This is the spot. I haw w tHsfpvtheroadfbutfoundiJfeS working, so meant to have shiftedS£ The two old men were instantly m «!«• knees examining the rocky eronnl E were evidently-satisfied, for fliw S hands, smiled benevolently^ 5 oat then ahouted,lustily, an%fcgX hayed m an extravagant manner, unle comwg to such venerable old gentlemen. 'You've been putting this oh the Stf Steely. "* Bbuted<4 " A little," answered Dismal.' "Well, young man, shut youreyw^d listen! You ye been paving.thux'bg^tii: gold, for you've, struck a )frl, &iidfetie]»' one too." :;;■'■ ' -'•'>.>'- ■'" 4r"; _ It was true enough, and not at all etniiee either, for the country abounded ikliarb; reefs that only required systematic pi™, pecting to be discovered. : ■ ' " Sam," whispered Giles to h'y friend'as they neared the township, "jM^f&siai a-wanting to blow his brains out -with a pilolike that'under his lisnd. ?fs ™t slinging 'mullock'at ProvidencOjiiii*l' Sam winked sympathetically. Bess was waiting, radiantandiappkjk miners were gathered' round tbe.l<M: -awaiting Giles, who was theimastar of eie. monies; the insides and outsidea wero organising races for the youngsters, and everybody made, merry. 'l gudienltf. oati four friends appeared arid!a general ' JitHi welcomed them. Old GUe^jnottsti&tiJt* bench near his door and removing hiß Hat> demanded silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, JSam, miiete, and Bess; This is, as you all-know, Christ mas Day, and a blessed day it is. It is a day we shall all long remSmber. We formed a depitation this morning to wait on Mr' Dismal—you all know hnn—to in vite him to our sports. Well,''!: r Wha| the Immortal Bard, ' Providence moves in amyswrousmannertoperfomherwondeW,' or sumniat o' that kind. And site worked this morning in Silver Gully by. taking this gentleman with us who found Ms boyhood's friend a sleeping the sleep p' innocence. And he awoke this Christmas mornujgia r his friend's arms. What d'ye think if that? Now listen to what's comitig! Mr Dismal —God bless him, has-^rovjered a rich gold-bearing reef near l^ger ; tip*HilL Steady, boys! Wait a bit! I'll show yoa all tlio spot by and by. He's found that reef and has given it over to us to worM as a jint stock company—there,'boyi/Wiat,, d'ye think o' that!" . What they thought of it %as';proved, effectively by the boiSteroOT:l^^^!]^^!?? cheered Mr Dismal, shook his Hands nearly off, and finished up by'hoisting Him upon their shoulders and carrying Mm rbutia the township amid the acclamations of. the community. j. That was a Christmas Day'll^g.reman bered in the annals of Silver^fuilyVfThe dinner that Giles served up a*jdspread out on long tables beneath the sheltering .blue gums eclipsed all previous efforts. Ib 9 miners never forgot how^th? blue-nosed1 outside sang and danced a highly impos sible jig, how; the inside; gentleman, witd kindly liberality, gave big prizes to ;ba competed for; and the young insideW,.to : the fov of .all, produced a viohn wtoc> she played to the delight of all who danced. .■ r • ■■ ■' .:■"■■ -■ '■ ■■■■■.■■ !■■"■■ -.■. . , :

I Giles and.Sanyhoc^lJlS Bess their, W^^Ja.SSavA his.friend were-happy^beca^e g^ hom6watd bound.; . - _ Ujaht and - shuttered-^ndows.,, . g v6icej «J «Edith, dear," said the awew d feel to-night that our^b^y » J,.', I^Srde ba^X»hfd^ young iftdy." I^lßotwj rv

The Dream,

~ 'With the gun between Ms kt)m." r " +* < ' > fv*!

♦'^«d /«M«dT up by hoistinp him on their , ; " ; shoulders.' ■,",'■■''.<. J-'-i. ■■ •;fi- vl: *■■

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY DECEMBER 24. 1887.











