THE FAMILY.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 247, 11 July 1908, Page 11

THE FAMILY.

I. "I drink," said the millionaire, "to tho old home." . He was a man of sixty, big and powerful, with iron-grey hair, and a faco that looked as if it had been carved out of hard wood; but the eyes ivero expressive and the mouth mobile. Ho sat at the head of his own table, and round him were his threo brothers and his three sisters, handsome men and women, middle-aged or elderly, all of them bearing tho stamp of achievement. There were no other quests. 11. "The old home!" said the millionaire; " and I often wish I were back there." The toast was honoured, and ho sat down again. " I'll tell you what comes into my mind," ho said, " when I think about thoso days; and, when I have done, all the rest of you must do the same in turn. " I think of the spacious shabbiness of the old place, and how jolly it was. Thcro was plenty of room for all of us, although it was only a country rectory. Do you remember,; Hill, the room in which you and I slept? Tho carpet was threadbare, there weren't any curtains, and it was novel - repapercd the whole time we had it. But wo kept all our treasures there. I have bought a good many pictures since that time, but I don't think ono of them has given me so much pleasure as that print 1 saved up for and hung over the mantelpiece. I have it still, By Jove, I should liko to wako up in that room now, at fivo o'clock of a summer morning, and see the sun peeping above the old lime in the garden as it used to do. Wouldn't you, old boy?" 111. " Yes," said the general, " I should. Wo used to get up early in those days. But we were never much beforehand with tho old father. Six o'clock, summer and winter!. And by half-past he was in his study. " I think of him most. "What a man ho was! Can any one of us remember him ever allowing himself the smallest indulgence? I can't. Wo used to grumble at his rules and regulations, but when I remember how smoothly and happily lifo went under his orders —why, I wish I wero under them still. He took ovory ounce of responsibility on his shoulders. Wo had only got to oboy. It is good to look back on those days." ■ . IV. "He was a man in a thousand," said the bishop's wife, " and ought to have had preferment. But in praising him you must not forget our mother. It is of her I' chiefly think when I recall that happy home of our childhood. How admirably she ordored it! There was not much money, but thero was always enough for quiot hospitality. And she was so charitable. Silo knew all tho villagers as well as sho knew her own family, and they were real friends to her. Sho never wanted to be anything higher than a country clergyman's wifo, and I think hers was a very happy lot. Sho had her homo and her husband and her children, and tho poor around her. That was enough for her." V. " I think of her too," said the marchioness. " How clever she was in dressing us, and how pleased she was when she could give, us something now to wcarl Curious, little figures of fun we must havo been, but as proud of : our rare new clothes as sho was. " And can't you all remember tho smell of the old church on winter Sunday afternoons, when the lamps were lit, or on hot summer mornings, when the school children's heads reeked of a sort of beany hairoil? . ■"I remember the Sundays best—the quiet, faded drawing-room, aud all of us there ill tho evening while father read ' Tho pilgrim's Progress.' I can feel 1 myself a little child, sitting on a big footstool by mother's skirts, looking into the firo or playing with the fringe of the hanging fire-screon. I used to think Sir John's big covert was tho Valley of the Shadow of Death, and always expected t9 meet Giant Despair if I went through it." ' , VI. " Giant Despair did not inhabit tho Valley of the Shadow of Death," said tho King's Counsel. "I remember more of 'Tho Pilgrim's Progress' than you do, Clara, and I' have read it sinco, which I'm sure ,you havo never had time for. Let mo remind you, too, that you are the youngest of us all. and havo spoken out of your turn. "I'll toll you tho memory that I value. It is tho family life. Several times it has nearly pushed me into matrimony. I should like to have a big family of children, and bring them up in tho country, as wo were brought up. Dick and I used to fight a bit in our room, as I dare say Jim and Bill did in theirs; but what pals we all were at heart! , "Tho best room, in the house was the old schoolroom, with tho cupboards and .bookcases and the oilcloth 011 tno floor and Clara's canary in the window. Do yoa remember tho old table on which wo all carved our initials, and we boys were swished for it? Well, I traced that old tablo the other day, and I've got it back. _ 1 "I wish Jim had given us thick hunks of bread- and butter' and weak tea to-night, instead- of tliis choice repast. How good everything lasted in those days!—when we used to come in from cricket, or bathing, or whatever it was, and Emmeline and Mary used to beep us in order, eh?" i VII. "You needed it," said the politician's wife. "Both Emmelino and I wero exercised over your tablo mamiors. But we were proud of our brothers all tho same; aud I believo you all thought that thero were no girls to compare with your sisters. I shall never forget thd perils that Stephen went through beforo ho, secured Emmeline. Nobody would havo thought of his becoming a bishop then! Tho

only thing that saved him wan that ho was a hotter cricketer than any of you. It is a wonder that Clara was not complotcly spoilod before she grew up. I am sure she has liover been admired more than she was by her brothers. "I think tho most vivid 'memory I havo is of the time when I was no.longer a child; the timo when, all you boys were beginning to succeed, when Emmelino and Clara wero married, and I was left at homo with mother and father. How proud they were then! They had denied themsolves all their lives to give you the best education, and you wero doing tho rest for yourselves. Father had no strings to pull, and lie would not have pulled them i£ her had." VIII. Tho sailor was. the last to speak."Nona of you have remembered the garden,' l he

said. "I have thought about it on all , the seas of the world. The lilacs and laburnums and maytrecs, and the thrushes and the blackbirds—what a place it was! I won't lay too much stress on tho raspberries and strawberries, but I have often longed for the orchard—about May-time, when the grass and flowers were getting deep. It's the peaco of it all I like to remember. If I lived in the old home now I should never>.want to go outside tho garden.". IX. "Well," said the oldest brother, "I Eeo that all your memories are as vivid as mine. And it seems that each one of us remembers affectionately whatever was least like • our present way of living. There isn't one of us that hasn't got on in tho world, and wo are all proud of ono another's success, even if we take our own for granted. But I do believo that those old days were the happiest of all, and, for my part, I have not spent so pleasant an evening for a long timo as this on which we havo all got together again and polished up our old memories. Lot us do it again next year—if wo're spared, as the old father used to say." X. Later, when the brothers and sisters were parting, the millionaire drew the lawyer aside. "Edward," ho said, "this afternoon at Christic's I bought that table of Marie Antonette's that there has been such a fuss about. I'll swop it with you for the eld schoolroom tablo." "Jim," said the lawyer, "I wouldn't change that old-table for all the treasures you've got in your house!" "No, I didn't suppose you would," said the millionaire. "Well, good night, old boy." ■ —Archibald Marshall in the "Daily Mail."