LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 753, 17 November 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MARTHA'S PRIDE.

[By Richmond Thatcher.]

It was a foolish, idle quarrel, and all arose out of a trivial thing. Jacob was a bit late up and couldn't find his boot 3, and I had been too busy getting ready for the week's wash to have his breakfast laid, and when he said he never saw such a house for losing things, and went on about his mates always being at the claim before him because they could get their meals in good time, I got mad, and said it was a pity he hadn't some one else to bear his ill temper and be his slave. Then he said he had to work hard to keep me and the baby, and I retorted with something or another, what I don't know, but it was bitter, I remember well. Then I got his breakfast, and put it down before him with a bang, as much as to say, 1 There; I wish it wo'Ud uhokc you ;' and Jacob ate it, never once looking at baby, who was sitting on the floor crowing and crying by tuins, and at times clapping its hands'to attract 'daddy's' attention. When he had finished, he stood up as if irresolute. I believe he was thinking whether it wouldn't be better to do as he had done a score of times before after a tiff, and come up and say, ' There, Martha, old girl, it's all over; give us a kiss;' but evidently the bad spirit got the better of him, for he just stood a moment, took his cap, stuck it on firmly and savagely, aad made for the door, I had a mind

to get between it and him and say • No, don't Jacob, don't go out in such a temper.' I was sitting sulkily at the corner of the table playing with a cup of tea, and could easily have done it. God forgive me, I was wrong, for my anger was nigh all gone, and it wouldn't have been a great sacrifice ; but when I saw his tread bo firm and his mouth close shut, I said to myself, «AH right, Jacob Hounsell, if you can be high-spirited, so can I,' and I let him go out and down the little hillside without a word. I did peer anxiously to see if he would turn to look towards me and baby ; but he marched on as stiff as a soldier on sentry. I thought when his body and face were by the low wattles on the other side of the creek that his cap took a turn, as if his head were turned too, in our direction. I hope it was, I pray that it might have been, and that Jacob's heart was turned as well, and that, as he went down the hill to the flat, he thought kindly of his wife—his loving wife—for all the bitter words. I have often wondered if it was, and as often been consoled by the thought that his anger had departed, and that his heart softened towards me and his little baby. It was the first time we ever parted like that—not the first tiff we had by many, but always before, those little quarrels had been but a renewal of love. Mutual explanation and forgiveness had followed, but God, I suppose, saw fit to allow the evil one to harden both our hearts that daywhy, I don't know; but His ways, they say, are inscrutable, and we can only bend our heads and say, ' His will be done.' After Jacob had gone a few minutes, my bitterness all left me. I found plenty of excuse for his little display of ill temper. * Didn't he work down in that deep claim all day, or keeping the cruel hard pump going, or winding up the sbuff; and it is provoking to find a baby has crawled off with one's boots when late up; and all men will growlif they don't gettheir meals quickly and comfortable.'

So T thought as I sat down before getting to the wash tub, and I believe I was fonder of Jacob than ever, and determined to knock up a little pudding in spite of it being washing day, and to meet him with a cheerful face and a loving kiss when he came home to dinner.

Jacob and I had been married four years. He was a sailor, and had left a big ship in New Zealand to go to the diggings when I met him first. Our first little baby died. It pleased God to take it away just as we had learned to love it better than our lives. I used impiously to think it was very hard of Him, and wished people wouldn't at tribute every affliction to God, but the minister said, ' His will be done,' and I could but cry ' Amen.' The baby who sat on the floor staring at Jacob, and was guilty of crawling away with his boots and causing the first of daddy's bad temper, was nearly twelve months old. I don't think we loved it as well as our first one that was dead and laid in the cheerless grave-yard on tbeTuapeka; but God knows we loved it well enough, and it always puzzles me how have left without kissing ' Totsy,' even if he was cross with his mother; but then no doubt he thought it would be better to make it up at dinner or after tea when he had more time. He did not think a few hours mattered, so he need not hurt his pride, and it would all be right. Ah! that cursed pride, it has cost millions besides me a woeful heart and bitter tears. We had left New Zealand and our dead pet in the cold grave amidst the snow-clad peaks and rushing rivers of Otago, and had been in the Slab Hut Gully some months ? Jacob was the first prospector in it, and had got a bit of gold. Then he put up the hut that gave the name to the creek, and had brought me and Totsy up from Sydney. He had worked the bed of the creek down pretty well, though some diggers had taken claims and were working near us. It was a pretty place; the banks of the creek were not over steep, and there was a bit of land for a garden and orchard. The creek fell and splashed down when it ran, which it did most months! in the year, amongst the bi<» rocks and over patches of sand, and between the nooks of reeds and tall grass and rushes, till it got down to Blackfcllow's Flat, where it lost itself amongst the reeds and marshes. The bank and the sides of the hill through which it ran were covered with small wattle trees and native myrtles and shrubs blooming all the year round, some or another of them, and many a nice walk I had with Totsy in my arms, which walks always took the direction of where daddy was at work, and he would knock off to take his pet in his arms and give her a toss and me a smile. I thought of all these things as I was at work that morning; what woman who had just quairelled, really for the first time, with a good husband would not? and /they preyed upon me. I blamed myself more than Jacob. I ought to have given way; I knew I had only to say one word, and he would not have gone out as he did with a frown on his face, and bitterness in his heart. It was nigh on eleven when I determined to leave the wash. It would be just as well done to-morrow, and I would walk down to where Jacob was at work. He had got down to Blackfellow's Flat now. Some old Victorian diggers came up and declared the flat would be *very rich if they could 'bottom,' so ' they had formed a company like, and got an amalgamated claim, and were hard at work sinking. The new claim was a quarter of a mile away; it would be a nice walk—Totsy would enjoy it—and if Jacob was on the ' shift' down below, I would look down and he would see me, and know I had forgiven and asked forgiveness. Totsy clapped her hands with delight as I was getting her ready, for it was dull work for her, poor thing, sitting on the floor with her play-toys while I was at the wash-tub. I soon put on the few things I needed, and taking Totsy up shut the door and was turning to go down to the cre3k where the log spanned it when I saw young Jack Hopper—old blacksmith Hopper's sou, who looked after the diggers' horses and drove one in a whim—rushing down the other side towards the log and my place, (rod help me, 1 felt there was something wrong. The blood seemed to go out of my heart, and I turned chill, and clasped Totsy to my heart. Jack ran at full speed across the tiny log bridge, and up the bit of a rise to where I stood. He was breathless almost, but he had enough left to gasp out, ' Missus, your old man !' I was half prepared for it when I saw him moving towards mo ; but the blow seemed none the less heavy. ' Father of mercies spare me,' I thought. I could not ask for till I came to think that perhaps he

was hurt only, and my aid might bo of use, so I wailed, ' Oh ! Jack is he dead ?' ' Dead ?' Jack repeated, almost scornfully; ' why, he's down the shaft, and forty foot of it's caved in.

I would have given a world to be able to cry —to pour out one flood of tears, and relieve my bursting heart. 'Jack,' I said, ' take Totsy, and play with her till I come back,' and I placed the child—our child—in his arms, and started off down the gully. I don't know how I got to the flat. The wattles and heliotropes were scentless to nie, and the gum trees might have been a million miles away for all I noticed them. Down by the banks of the little bubbling creek I ran, taking short cuts through the blooming shrubs and high grasses till I reached the flat. I hesitated awhile at the end of it, for I knew £the little knot of cotton trees only hid me from the claim. Only for a moment, and pressing my hand to my heart, I went to the cruel scene. Thirty men were at work, some throwing out timber and slabs and earth, others hauling big logs towards the mouth of the shaft, to put across, on which to erect a windlass. They saw me coming, and went on harder, if possible, with their work. They were fierce over their labour, and strove so hard that 'relief ' had to be given every five minutes. I could realise the worst; it needed not my husband's old mates to tell me that there was no hope. Forty feet of slabbed ground had gone down the shaft, through the top of it being wet and badly timbered. There was nobody in the living grave, I learned, but my husband, Jacob Hounsell, from whom I had parted in anger, who had not turned once towards his loving and loved wife. He had been the first to go down the eleven o'clock shift, and the other two were preparing to follow, when the top stuff, with the windlass, winding-gear, shed, and scores of loads of earth had crashed down the shaft. His will had been done. The great Judge will pardon me, I hope, but like a wicked, sinful woman, I thought it cruel that my husband, Totsy's father, had been taken at such a time. Who could tell but, when that cruel mass came upon him, he was thinking of his missing boots and late breakfast, and cherishing hatred of his wife.

I sat down not far from the spot, in spite of their entreaties for me to go away. I would have taken my turn at the task, but they were so much stronger than I, and could work so much better. They tell me that my hair turned white, and that an expression settled on my face that it has never lost. For four hours I sat there thinkingwondering when the clay of my husband would be drawn up. Before two hours were over, at each cry of 'up,' of those below, I Avould start and look towards the windlass for my husband's form. It was an eternity to me ; every moment of my married life passed in review, but Jacob's walk from our hut to the wattles on the other side of the creek was never absent from my mind. I saw his firm mouth closed, and noted his steady erect walk. Although he passed before me a thousand times, at each one I expected him to look back and smile, but he marched on, to re-appear at the breakfast table again, and resume that implacable walk. A cry and a gathering round the shaft s mouth at length told me the time had come. The top of the slabbing, it appears, had fallen first and got firmly fixed in the shaft below the break, and kept the earth and timber from the lower portion. • Lower me down !' was shouted, and the man below was let down to the bottom where Jacob was.

' Up, gently ?' came next, sounding as if uttered from a sepulchre. I was at the shaft's mouth now, waiting —waiting for Jacob. Slowly they wound up the rope ; ages seemed to pass before a body reached the top, and then they drew all that was mortal of my husband, Jacob Hounsell, on to the earth, by the side. Slowly and reverently they laid him down and stood aside as I bent down over the corpse. The Almighty, who sees and knows all things, only can tell what I thought as I gazed on the face of him from whom I parted in anger. My life is not likely to be a long one, but, if I live to be an old woman, I can never recall the things that passed through my mind. I remember how he looked—there was no smile on his face, but the hard stern expression it had worn when I had seen it last in life had gone and given way to a holy and peaceful calm. I remember giving Jacob, my dear husband, one passionate, yearning kiss, and then I awoke to misery in the Slab Hut. What more have Ito tell ? Little Totsy died. The doctor said I must have been mad to suckle her in the state I was ; but you see I was lonely, and it was such a comfort to press her to my heart which ached so. It pleased God to carry her away, and here I am alone, and I wait and wait till the time shall comewhen He will be pleased to call me to thethree whom he has seen tit to take away from me. I have no pride now, and there would be no chance to exhibit it if 1 had, for I am alone—resigned—and only waiting to be calaed.