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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Signal, 1881-03-04, Page 2ISE HURON ANAL, FRIDAY, MARCH 4. 1881 1 LIFE FOB 1 LI L IT nM 1191441t CHAPTNit X'VUL els et1eT. Dec. Sid, Med The merry-inakitg of my neighbew is - be flat above--prehably tioutah cei1mde, both of which greatly abound s tibia town -is a sad counteraction of meek for night. But why grumble when +1 as one of the few people who prMsB to work at all on so merry a night, waled used to be such • treat to us boys f The minds overhead put me in mind ef/that old festival of Hogmanay, whelk, dor a geed many things, would be "mwore 3non- ored in the breach than the observance." This Liverpool is an awful awn for drinking. Other towns may boa bad; statistics prove it; but I know ao plaee where intoxication is so open and.hsanmi- less. Not only in by -streets sad foul coasts, where one expects to see it, but everywhere. I never take • short rail- way journey in the after part of the day but I em liable to meet at least one drunken "gentleman" mooring in his tint -class carriage; or, in the second -ass, two or three drunken "men" singing, swearing, or puahed stupidly abut by pale -faced wives. The sadness of the thing is, that the wives do net seem to mind it -that everybody take. it quite as a matter of course. The "gentle- man," often gray-haired, is but "merry," as he is accustomed to be every night of he life; the poor moan has only • "had a drop or two," as all his comrades are in the habit of taking whenever they get the chance; they see no disgrace in it, so they laugh at him a bit, and humor him, and are quite ready to stand up for him against all incomers who may object to an intoxicated . fellow -passenger. They don't, nor do the women belonging to them, who are well used to tolerate drunken sweethearts, and lead about and pacify drunks* husbands It makesme rick, at heart sometimes to see a deeent pretty girl mit tittering at a foul-mouthed beast opposite; or a tidy young mother, with two or three bonnie children,trying to coax home, without harm to himself oT them, some brutish husband who does not know his right hand frombis left, sooitterly stupid is he with drink. To -night, but for my chance hand at a railway 'station, such a family -party .as this right have reached home Whereas -and no great misfortune, one might suppose. Yet the .wife had not even looked cad -shad only scolded and laugh- ed at him. In this, as in most cases of reform, it ie the womea who must make the first step. These are two great sins of men: drunkenness in the lower classes; a still worse forni,nf vice in the higher, which I believe women might help to stop if they tried. 'Would to God I could cry to everylyoung working woman, "Never encourage a drunken sweetheart!" and to every young lady thinking of marriage "Beware! better die, than live to give children to a louse -principled, unchaste father." Thee arelAstrong words--dtsre I leave them for eyes that may, years hence, read this page? A.y, for by then they will -they must, in the natural course of things, have gained se least a tithe of my own bitter iknowledpe of the world. God preserve them from all knowledge beyond what is actually necessary. When I think of any suffering coming to them, any sight of sin or avoidable sorrow troubling those dear eyes, it al- most drives me mad. lf, for instance, yon were to marry any mead like some men I have known, and who indeed form the majosty of our sex, and be were un- kind to you, or wronged you in the smallest degree, I think I could murd-- Hush, not that word! You see how my mind keeps wander- ing purposelessly, having nothing to communicate. I had indeed, for some time avoided writing here at all. And I have been, and am, necessarily occupied laying the ground -work of that new plan of life which 1 explained to you. Its whole bearing you did not see, nor did I intend you should; though your own words originated it; lit it with any of hope so exquisite that I could follow on cheerfully for indefinite years. It only lasted an hour or two; and then your father's words -though, God be praised, they were not yours -- plungeg me into darkness again; • dark - roes out of which I had never crept, had 1 been still the morbid coward i was a year &R^. As it was, you little gees•ed all the Noughts you shut in with T. behind the study door, till your light foot came tack to it that night Nor that in the inter- val I had had strength to weigh all cir- cumatsnems, and formed a definite, de- liberate plan, firma as I believe my heart to he since i knew you. i have resolved in onnesquence of some woods of yours, to change my whole scheme of life. That is i will at mime future day, near or far. eirrum- td.ne . must decide submit to you glory ..nor .4 my history-, and then ask you, dariream,whatsly. as • Trisect to de - incl.'. if 1 shall still goon, so»i.rding to ray purpose m prrrpect of do our, nr AA erg a the burden of it. shall trust in ticpd's merry• nessidet all things pass sad gone, sad my14t at Maw Iib sag Miter, W love, and woo, and assry. Ate.rwa, erg t all 9/ mit sot ifilJOW tion -the vera *re individual and weal ase, trot gsuwmlt M the elbjeet. ; W4641 to young Tor 1st; NIL Charteris, oudittlawli which I have Ltoly beer London, *sum of oars han- tt minvak .s.4 4. iptdj is ill MPA as aj1 inAMONOWIli "�'• iRrmiuko said kllll '. 101M,c y •1a1h� I Miell1t sdl eo ellRiwem(atitwRt Illar' eh�i. sot result t; 114 drittOR 4013 si�CllUe' c�MIMM '!b evoke Nat be sow disseneios here ss.& ls . a and his ow daughter, is an awfall thing. I dare not do it. During his <(s ties I asst wait. So, for the present, ',Jewell, innocent child! for no child oast be more innocent and happy than you. But you will sot always be • child. If you do not marry--Anea d you sum of as opposite mind Mime sisters is that particular -.yon will, years hence, be a rung, no longer ang, perhaps little ought after; for you are not beautiful to most eyes, nor front\your pecaliar tem- perament do you please many people. By then, you may hove known oars and sorrow -will be .n orphan and alone. I should despise myself for reckoning up thew possibilities, be� 1 know that in so far as any human bond can shield you from trouble, yotrihnll be shielded, that while my poor life Lala, you never shall be left desolate. I bees given up entirely my intention of quitting England Even if I am not able to get sight of you from year's end to year's end, if I have to stretch out and diminish to the-leaderedlink which will remain unbroken ry acquaintance with your family, I .must keep within reach of you. Nothing must happen to you or any one belonging to you, without my informing myself of it. And though you may forget- -I say not you will, but you may -I am none the less resolved that you shall never lose me, while a man can protect a woman, • friend sus- tain and comfort a friend. You will probably ret down to mere friendship one insane outburst of mine. Wrong, I confess, but to see you stand- ing in the lamplight, looking after me into the dark, with a lace so tender, mild, and sweet, and to know j should not look at that fscp •again for so long, it nearly maddened me. But you were calm -you would not understand. It will never do for me to see you of- ten, or to live in your neighborhood, and therefore it was bed to tabs immediate steps for the change I contemplate, and of which I told you. Accordingly, the very next day, I applied fur leave of absence. The colonel was j}ost riding over to call at Rockmount, so I sent a message to your father. 1 shrank from ewriting to him: to yon of oourne it was impossible. In this,as in many a future instance, I can only trust to at good heart which knows me -not wholly - alas ! will it ever know me wholly t but better than any other human being does, or ever will. I believe it will judge me charitably, patiently, faithfully; for is it not itself the truest, simplest, faithfulest he.rt Led me here may one word. I believe there is no love in it; nothing that need make a man hesitate lest his own happi- nem should not be the only sacrdas. Sympathy, affection, you have for me; but I do not think you ever knew what love was. Any ons worthy of you may yet have free opportunity of winning you --of making you happy. And if I saw you happy, thoroughly and right - eou.ly happy, I could endure it. I will tell you my plans I am trying for the appointment of surgeon to a jail near this town. I hope to obtain it; for it will open a wide field of work -to me the salt of life; and it is only fifty miles from Treherne Court, where you will visit, and where, from time to time, I may be able to meet you. Yon;sge--thio my hope, dim as it is in the future, and vsgue enough as to pre sent comfort - does not make me weaker but stronger for the ordinary concerns of life; therefore I believe it to be a holy hope, and one that I dare carry along with ms in all my worldly doings and planning.. Bellows one fact -for my nature hat 'uftioient unity of purpose never to do thing by halves --that no single plan, or act, or thought, is without referenoe to you. Shall I tell you my ways and means, as calculated to -night, the last night of the year t Selling out of the army will supply me with a good sum. Which I mean to put by, letting the interest accumulate, as a provision for accidental dines, or old age, if 1 lire to be old, or for -do you gums 1 My salary will be about £300 s year. Now, half of that ought t) suffice a man of may modergs habit& Many a poor clerk, educated amid obliged to appear as a gentleman, has nn larger income, and contrives to marry upon it, too, if love wises hold of him while still in the venturesouse Marrs of existence. We men are strange aaireals; at tour ty, ready to rust into matrimony os say prospects whatever, nr none st s11; at thirty, having thought bettor of it, re- joice in our escape ;but after forty, whoa the shadows begin to fall, when the nutter wnrld darkens, and the druids foals co ifnrtlees and lose, then we sit sad ponder 1 moan. most ares Mine man tel► I11d1r.e ' . ear Mel 1 AA I write them, the wools smile hard. To have no wife, no child 1 Never to seek what the idlest, most drunken loon of a mechanic may get for the asking; never to experience the joy which I saw on a poor fellow'■ face only yesterday; when, in the same room with one dead lad, and another sickening, the wife brought into the world a third, a living child, and the ragged, starved father cried oat, "Lord be thankit r that it was $ living child. 0 Lord, Thy ways are equal: it is ours ealy,which are unequal Forbid it, Thou, that I should have given Thee of that which Dost me nothing. Yet, on this night -this last night of • year so momentous -let me break silence, and ory, Thou alone wilt hear. I want her -I crave her; my very heart and soul are hungry for her ! Not as a brief poreasioa, like gathering a flower and wearying of it, or throwing it away. I want her for always -to have her morning, noon, and night; day after day and year after year; happy or sorrowful, good or faulty, young or old -only mine, mine! I feel sometimes as if, found thus late, all eternity could not give me enough of her. It is not the body she inhabits -though, from head to foot, my love is all fair, ever close at hand to be the better self of this me, who have tried vainly all thew years to stand alone, to hes and endure alone ! Folly! -proud folly! suck is not a natural state of things! God himself said, "It is not goodfor man to be alone." I think I never shall be so solitary as I have been. That good heart, pure and unselfish as 1 never sow woman's before, will always incline kindly to as much of mine as I dare show; thou sweet, honest eyes will never be less trustful than now -unless I gave them cause to doubt me. Her friendship, like her character, is steadfast as a rook. But oh! if ahe loved me! If I were one of those poor clerks st • hundred a year; if we had only meat, raiment, and • roof to cover us, and she loved me ! If I were, as might have been, a young doc- tor, toiling day and night, with barely time for food and sleep; but with a home to come to, and her to love me ! If we eat in this room, bare and mean as it is, with this scanty supper between ns, asking God's blessing upon it, while her hand in mine and her lips on my fore- head told me, "Max, I leve you!" God forgive me if I murmur! I am not young; my life is slipping away -my life, which is owed. Oh! that I might live long enough to teach her to say, "Max, I love you!" Enough. The last minutes of this year -this blessed year! shall not be wasted in moans Already the streets are growing quiet. People do not seem to keep this festival here as we do, north of the Tweed; they think more of Christina'. Most likely she will have forgotten all about the day and be peacefully sleeping the old year out and the new in -this little English girl Well, I ant awake, and that will do for both. My letter to Treherne-oould you have ;keen it? I suppose you did. It made no excuses for not coming at Christmas, because I intended to come and see you to -morrow,' I meant to wish you a happy New Year on this, the first sines I knew you, ainoe I was aware of there being such a little creature existing in the world. Also, I mean to come and see you every New Year, if possible; the word possible implying, so far as my own will can control circumstances. I desire to see you; itis life tometosee you, and see you I will. Not often, for I dare not, but as often as I dare. And- for I have faith in anniversaries -always on the annivorsry of the day I fust saw you, .ad on New Year's Day. Ons - two -three: I waited for the clock to come striking, and now all the bolls are ringing from every church tow- er. is this an English custom? I trust ask you to -morrow, that is. to -day, for it is morning-- it is the New Year! MAI IIpQvaaar. mentitin ones name therein, was, at *at •�under sol premiere ei bu is•a►- just • lino written, an hour spared. Talk of want of time! Why, if 1 were s trap I weald make tilt., I would --e. bimldetee 1 w'h $ would yen de, is - deed, when y *Weil duty ,or da sot do---jwK to wait sad trust. Yet I do trust- One. belimrimg in people, I believe in them always, airtime all widows 'mewl their owe-sy, and Mould to the very lad "until death us do part." Those words have set me right again, showing me that I am not afraid, either for myself or ►sty other, even of that change. As I have read somewhere, all pure love of every kind partakes in this of the nature of the love divine, "neither life or death, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any ot&ier creature," are able to separate or annihilate it. One feels that -or if one does not feel it, it is not true love, is worth nothing, and had better be let go. I write idly, perhaps from having been somewhat tired this week. Let me tell my troubles; it is only to this paper. Troubles, indeed, they •o•rcely deserve to be called, had they not happened in this festive week, when every one ex- pected to be so uncommonly happy. Fust, there was Francis's matter, which ought to have been • great joy, and yet has seemed to weigh us down like a great care; perhaps, because the individual most oonoerned took it as such, never once looking pleased, nor giving • hearty "thank you" to a single congratulation. Also, instead of coming to talk over his happy prospects with papa and me, he has avoided us pertin- aciously. Whenever we lighted upon him, it was sure to be by accident, and he slipped away as soon as he could, to do the polite to Treherne cousins, or to play interminably at billiards, which he considered "the most fascinating game in the world." hate neer. saeatiuoed Mies Johnston'. same." Certainly Augusto. goes awkwardly to work welt kis cousin, whe has good pointa if you know tow to take bold of Item. To use my brother-in-law's own OM. IIiIlftltilis goo "rnbbsd up the lamg ,i" ormisity wimp mettethiug kers aumpM hi*, • I sow hint afterward alartd Agtcrwlad/w is the bbeery, read - keg Pansblr's aper, with as expression of such pe ty .rid pain that I should have been , had not hers to me been w cheerful They cannot have been quarrelling, fur then she is3never cheerful. No wonder. Silence, or alight clouds of doubt between friends are hard enough td!bear; a real quarrel, and between lovers, must be heart breaking. With all Francis's peculiar- ities, Intrust it will never come to that. Yet something must have been amiss, for there he stood, looking out vacantly on the Italian garden, with the dreary statues half clad in snow -en Antinous, almost seeming to shiver under anything but an Egyptiou sky; and a white -limbed Fgeria pouring out of her urn a stream of icicles. Of sty presence he was scar- cely conscious. I do believe, until I von- tured to speak. "Francis, do you see how near it is to post -time r I said he might treat nut for that; I would rather nut, for hie rake --for all oar sakes, that anybody did hear -end then the thought of Pa slope's gill /Aloe suddenly choked tion I hate it. What can be the charm of prowling for hours round and round a green -brise table, trying to knock so many red and white balls into so many holes, I never could discover, and told him so. He laughed, and said it was only my ignorance; but Colin, who stood by, blushed up to the eyes, and almost immediately left of playing. Who would have supposed the lad so sensi- tive? I am beginning to understand the in- terest taken by a friend of theirs and mine in these two young men, Augustus Treherne and Colin Granton. Though neither particularly clever, they have both two qualities sufficiently rare in all men to snake one thankful to find them in any -uprightness of character and unselfishness of disposition. By -the -by, I never knew but one thoroughly unsel- fish man in my life, and that was- Well, arWell, and it was not Francis Charteris, of whom I am now speaking. The afor- said little interchange of civility passed between him and me on the Saturday after Christmas -day, when I had been searching for him with a letter from Penelope. (There was in the pod -bag another letter, addressed to Sir William, which made me feel sure we ahould have no more guests to -day, nor, consequent- ly, till Monday. Indeed, the letter, which, after some difficulty, I obtained in the shape of cigar lighters, made no mention of any such possibility at a11; but, then, it had been a promise.) Francis put my sister's note into his pocket, and went on with bis game so earnestly that when Augustus came be- hind and caught hold of him, he started es if he had been collared by a police- man. "My dear fellow, beg pardon, but the governor wants to know if you have written that letter 1" Lisa had told me what it was-- the let- ter of acceptance of the appointment offered him, which ought to have been sent immediately. Francis looked annoyed. "Plenty of time. My compliments to Sir William, and I'll -think about it." "Cool !" muttered Augustus. "Tis your look out, Charteris, not mine-- only, one way or other, your answer must go to -day, for my father has heard from—" Here he reined up, as he himself would my; but having seen the hand- writing in the poet -hag, 1 guessed who was meant. "Heard from whom, did you my! Some of the officious persons who are always so obliging as to keep my nncle informed of my affairs r "Nonsense- - that is one of your met - CHAPTER XIX. bets. You have no warmer friend thaa Hai amsv my father, if only you wouldn't rub him op the wrong way. Gime along sad New Year's Morning• be this long -have done with it; otherwise you know him of old - the old gentleman will gat uncommon wedge." "Though I have the tenor of knowing Sir Riniaa T eher.e eQ old, i essay mauve be seenwmsable fee air lases- ing 'nmieo.m aeon esvege," mid Freassi., haughtily "Wr Orestes, will yon be mtarbsr tkis game r "Tien my word, 1. is the molest smae.os.& Hy George, Charter* if yes wanted Penelope as lamb es i did my "hese mss,'. "Don't ory Dor$-I 114 VVI &pull beer to see • girl ory. I am very sorry. Heaven help ton: was there ever such an uafortunste follow born? but it is all circumstances; I have been the sport 4 eircunutanoes during my whole life. No, you need not contradict. What the devil do you torment me for?" I have thought since, how greet must have been the dormant irritation sad sxcitenment which could have forced that ugly word out of the elegant lips of Francis Charteris And the smile being off it, I saw a face haggard and sallow with anxiety. I told him, as gently as I could, that the only thing wanted of him was to make up his mind, either way. If he saw good reasons for declining -why, decline-- Penelope would be ountent. "Do as you think bed -only du it - end let my sister know. There are two things which you men, the bast of you count for naught; bot which are the two things which almost break • woisan's heart -one is, when you keep secrets from her; the ,other when you hesitate and hesitate, and never know your own minds Pray Francis -don't do so with Penelope. She is very fond of you." "I knew that. Prior Penelope!" Ile dropped his head with something very like a groan. Much shocked to see what ought to Have been his comfort seemed to be his worst pain, I forgot all about the letter in my anxiety lest anything should be seriously amiss between them; and my great concern roused him. "Nonsense, child. Nothing is amiss. Very likely I shall be Governor of --- after all, and your sister governor's lady if she chooses Hush! not a word; Sir William is calling. Yes, sir, nearly ` reedy. There, Dors, you can swear the letter is begun." And he hastily wrote the date--Treherne Court. Even then, though 1 doubt if he would have finished it, save for the merest accident, which shows what trifles ap- parently . cause impornant results, especially with characters so impressible and variable as Francis. Sir William opening some letters called me to look at one with • name written on the corner. "1s that meant for my nephew? His correspondent writes an atrocious hand, and cannot spell, either. 'Mr. P. Chatt- ers' -the commonest tradesman might have had the decency to put 'Francis Chareris, Esquire.' Perhaps, it is not for him, but for one of the servants." It was not; for Francis, looking rather confused, claimed it as from his tailor; and then, under his uncle'. keen eyes, turned scarlet. These two must have had some sharp encounters in former days, since, even now, their power of provoking one another is grievous to see. Heartilj vexed for Francis, I ,took up the ugly letter to give to him, but Sir William interfered. "No, thank you, young lady. Trades- men's bills can always wait. Mr. Fran- cis shall have this letter when he has written his own." [ro la CONTIlfUID.] Again a start, which with difficulty he concealed. "Et to Brute ? You also among my tormentors 1- quit the field." And the room: whence he was just escaping, had not his uncle's wheeled - chair filled up the doorway. "Just in search of you" ---cried the querulous voice, which Franco declares goes through his nervous system like a galvanic shock. "Have you written that letterr' "My dear Sir William— "Have you written that letter!" "No, sir; but--" "Can't wait fur 'bub' -I know your ways. There's a pen and ink -and -I mean to wait here till the letter is done. I thought Francis would have been indignant. And with reason: Sir William, spite of his good blood, is cer- tainly a degree short of a gentleman; but old habits may have forte with his nephew, whc, without more remonstrance quietly sat down to write. A long half hour only broken by the rustle of Sir Williams Times, and Lady Augusta's short cough -she was more nervous than usuali and whispered me that she hoped Mr. Charteris would not offend his uncle, for the gout was threat- ening. An involuntary feeling of sus- pense oppressed even me; until, slipping across the room, I saw that a few stray scribbling. was the only writing on Francis's shed of paper. That intolerable procrastination of his? he would let everything slip -hu credit, his happiness -and not his alone. And, the more people irritated him, the worse he was. I thought, in despair, I would try my hand at this inoorrigible young man, who makes me often feel as if, clever and pleasing as he is, he were not half good enough for Penelope. "Francis!" I held out my watch with a warning whisper. He caught at it with great relief, and closed the letter - cue. "Too late for to -day; I'll do it to- morrow." "To -morrow will indeed be too late; Augustus said so distinctly. The appointment will be given to some one else -and then "And then, you acute, logical, busi- ness -like young ladyr' There was no time for ultra -delicacy. "Andtheo you may not be able to marry Penelope for ten more years." "Penelope will be exceedingly obliged to you for suggesting the possibility, and taking me to task in this way - such a child as you!" Am I a child? out it mattered not to him how old I seem to have grown. Nor did his satirical tons vex me as it once might have done. "Forgive me," 1 said; "I did not mean to take you to task. But it is not your own happiness alone which is at stake, and Penelope is my 'later." Strange to soy, he was not offended. Perhaps, if Penelope had spoken her mind to him, instead of everlastingly adoring hint, he might have been the better for it. Francis sighed, and made another scribble on his paper- -"Do you think, you who seem to be well acquainted with your sut.er's mind, that Penelope would be exceedingly unhappy if -if i were to dacha* this appointmentr' 'Deena,- oh:- you're jesting "idiot at all The aoversorship looks far finer tkan its A hot lisle -*rid 1 detest warns weather no society -♦ad i should lose all my London estjoyments sive up all my friends and aoquaint- anticipated festival week u ended, sniff the std year is gone. Poor old yearl J "He grove • Renav tesd d a true, true le will Aad the New Year l take thews &wail Ah! no, so, no. Things are sinners. The utmost I dm my of them u.. that they seers Yen emerged• One world suppose, if obs liked* friend, and there existed no n► ennoble raw far net showing it, w nae would show it lust s little, with only forty miles between- • ha hour's railway ride .ot to run over am slake hands; to write • leder arid not to ,earned Pelmets, "1 . a._»'fix . , ... , .,..... ., , .: ..def ` �', • j 41eci tr "So wnuid Penelope." "Se would Penelope, as But 'Bet women &tent that as nothing -- they are used t.. it. Ley for them to mostsoe home and ernietry, kindred sod friends. and follow a man to the ends of the earth Quite natural, wad they Dug►t to be e, •aedtngly nhligad to lino for taking there" He looked at an then hogged me not to fly into a passion. as enmehody migbt hear you ray. The best known remedy for all afec- tions of the Chest, Lungs or Throat is GRAY'S SY•CP Or Rao Sraccs Gun. It is constantly used by thousands of per- sons suffering from the above diseases, and in nearly every instance it affords immediate relief. In cases of trouble- some, tickling Cough, where the patient passer( sleepless nights, one or two doses of the Syrup has such • quieting, sooth- ing effect that the rest ensues and the Cough speedily disappears. Try it and be convince?. Sold by all chemista. Price Sb and 50 centa per bottle. F'cr Sale_ The BUSINESS and STOCK OF R.Claadaouiog & Sot The Klock has been reduced P110400 and con- tains comparatively no old or dead goods. The ftuainene bas been es•&litisbed tweets - give rear, and the proprietors are going out of bedews whish in the mown for aalliag. this shoo be rented or bought, the Store which 1. the heat In the Corny for the df. of the Village Dungannon Is growing netaly and Is aft noted In one of the beet scrim tura! district. 1,1 the ]'rovin. e. A lama bastnoiu has been done mud Qs• he extended. A saline Tailor,a•gg trq.rinsat In mane. tinn. Terms reawos ble sad flay mem ems. tasvkllrr good serene/ Is elves. A//1r te- m CLENPENNING & SON, DusOaasu W. El Hart & Co., PROPRITiTORa IIOIIRIIICII IllJ.S, ( Late Pipers.) A LARGE QUANTITY 0? , Anise Dukvbast Flour Ow MOMD.