LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 988, 25 August 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

OUR PICNIC: A Glimpse of a Golden Day.

' One of those heavenly clays that cannot die.'—Wordsworth.

{From London Society.) It was most unfortunate that uncle Tawney should have arrived from Bombay at the very moment of my budding happiness. I had never seen him, but I had heard that he was fussy, choleric, and frill of whims and oddities. He was my mother's eldest brother, twenty years her senior, and she had always stood terribly in awe of him. He was a bachelor, however, with piles of rupees, and she was naturally ready to receive him with open arms when he announced his advent to our parsonage home after a sojourn of fifteen years in India.

I was the eldest of a family of seven, and had just become engaged to Tom Trueman. He was only a bank-clerk ; and my father said he had no brains, and would never be anytbing better. But then he had fine eyes and a dashing manner ; and I said there was no chance of anything better for me, so I might as well be engaged to him, at all events. My mother was yielding and gentle, and when I kissed her with some added warmth and joyousness in my caresses she could refuse me nothing 'Well, Jessie,' she murmured, 'please yourself. But if you are not to marry, dear, I can't sec what good it will do you to be tied up in this way.' ' Why, it makes me happy ; is that no good? ' I cried. 'Tom is fond of me, and I of him. Isn't it pleasant to think we belong to one another?'

1 am afraid my arguments would not have carried much weight with most mothers, but mine was an exceptionally good one, and I had my own way. As to my father, he was too hard worked in his scattered parish in the county F— to have time to bestow on such trifles as girls' fancies. He was somewhat of a bookworm too, a student of the old school; and if we left bim to his pamphlets and his parishioners in peace, he let us do pretty much as we pleased. It was just at this crisis that the blow of my uncle's visit came. Though I had to devote extra time and thought to the polishing up of the house, and the brightening up of the domestics, in honour of the event, I could have borne all that But another shock supervened. On the very day of his arrival my mother appeared, in the drawing room, where I was giving the last touch to the flower-vases, and closed the door solemnly behind her. ' Jessie,' she said, ' I hope you have warned Tom not to come here at present. Of course all that nonsence must be at an end now.' ' AVhy ?' I ejaculated ; and the Bohemian glass I held gave a sympathetic thrill in my hand. ' Your uncle Tawney can't bear anything of a courtship. Tt's one of his peculiarities.' ' How many has he 1 ' I cried impulsively. ' Are we to study them all ? If he objects to Tom's presence now, it is quite possible he may demur to my existence next.' ' Come. Jessie, be sensible. Your uncle has had disappointments of old, and we must show him a little consideration. Besides, he won't stay long. The last words were added with a half sigh, in which regret and relief were strangely mingled. A prescient feeling had stolen over her that every propitiatory preparation would be in vain. ' I know he won't stay long, Jessie,' she repeated. ' But while he is here, I beg you will be careful about Tom.' ' Careful for his comforts 1 Yes, mother.

' Now, Jessie !' and a warning finger announced to me that I was alike expostulated with and confided in.

I could not resist the latter appeal. When I am not controlled, but trusted, even a wilful heart like mine shows itself selfsacrificing. A minute later I had penned a few blurred lines to Tom. He was sure to turn up at five o'clock every afternoon, and this unfailing punctuality must be gently corrected in the emergency. 'Dearest Tom,' I wrote—'A stormy fate separates us for the present. An ill wind has blown us from over the seas a blustering ogre of an uncle, who must be appeased, I am told, at all hazards. He has plenty of money, and a terrible temper—nothing else that I can make out. He has no wife, at all events, and cannot bear another person even to think of one. So lam a rigid old maid, invisible to gentlemen during his stay. Bemember this, please, if you ever wish me to be anything else. —Yours in separation, 'Jessica.'

Uncle Tawney came by the four o'clock train. Mother and 1, with one of the children, went to meet him in the pony-carriage; and though it was a midsummer day he was muffled up to the eyes. This, he informed. us, was to ' keep the heat out.' But his form woidd have needed some extra involutions, if the precaution was to extend to his temperament. Before he was well on the platform he was swearing at every one within sight. Some box had gone astray, and he gave my mother more a blow in the eye than anything approaching to an embrace when she attempted to greet him. 'Where is it?' he roared, and struck out forcibly on all sid^a. I dived dexterously, but his arms seemed to reach everywhere; and only that some horrid leathern article, the very colour of his own face, was Hung out at the moment from the van, he would infallibly have had us all under the wheels of the train. On the drive to the house he abused the roads, the hills, the dust, the horses, and even my mother herself for not having a green veil on, till he had the tears standing in her eyes.

When he saw this he attempted something of politeness.

' How many children have yon got, Luc)'?' he roared out. ' Twelve, I'll In: bound.'

'.No, seven,' said my mother timidly. 'Seven !—it's au awful--' ' Lucky number,' I interposed. Uncle had pounced upon me in a second. ' Then take care you don't break it, miss ; mind you all keep together. There's no nonsenoe going on among any of them, I hope ''. ' and he was back again at my mother. Fortunately he did not wait for au answer. 'lf there were,' he pursued, in the same breath, ' I'd—l'd pound it out of them'.' and the carriage literally shook beneath the terrible emphasis of his words. On our arrival at the parsonage he was handed over to my father till dinner-hour; and as ho had brought a bottle of pome hideous-hued sauce in his pocket, with a fiery recipe for curry, 1 had to stand over the

cook for an hour, broiling day as it was, concocting some compound for his delectation. The repast over, an adjournment was moved to a row of chairs under the drawing room windows. We had had an awning put up here in imitation of a verandah, and hoped uncle would have liked it. 'lt will remind him of India,'said my mother thoughtfully, as she helped herself to put the last tack in the canopy. But this turned out a most unlucky provision. ' He hated India,' he informed us, with a savage scowl, as he noted our calico ovation; and then he flung himself into the best easychair with a force which threatened to finish its feeble springs forthwith. Coffee was handed about presently, and later on my uncle had a cigar between his lips, when my mother thought it a pro pitious moment for unfolding her plans for the ensuing day. The weather was lovely. We had a famous ' show spot' in the neigh bourhood, and thither she had decreed we should adjourn, together with some invited guests, for a picnic repast. ' It will be so pleasant and cool,' she concluded ; and she turnel her eyes considerately on uncle Tawney's form, which was up to boiling point. ' Cool! 'g exclaimed the gentleman, with another bound in the chair. ' A picnic is the hottest thing in creation. The meats are baked (food I detest), the ground, the guests —everything, and more flics swallowed than would fatten an army of spiders ' 'James you don't know our country,' expostulated my mother. ' Mossdale is the sweetest shadiest spot imaginable. It is never too dry.' ' Then it's too damp, of course. 1 forgot your climate; always at rain. There'll be a downpour the moment we're under weigh.' ' No, no,' broke in my mother earnestly. ' The sky looks too well for that, James, and the glass is rising. You will see we shall have a lovely day. And Mossdale is just what I say, the most refreshing place to wander in—'

'Ay, that's the word!' he interrupted emphatically. ' Wander ; wander away ! Every one's at it. None keep together. You can find nobody you like and nothing you want. The dinner is a succession of false starts. The place can't be settled upon, the baskets can't be collected, the people can't be gathered. A pair of fools manage to enjoy themselves, and spoil the day for every one else. They are being hunted up on all occasions, and are never forthcoming till the whole company is hoarse, and broken up in scouring detachments. No, no; I know your picnics of old, and their pleasant sociability. The pa'ty won't keep together.' ' They shall do so to-morrow, James. I'll see to it; I'll insist upon it.' ' Try, try !' he repeated sardonically. I thought of Tom, and uttered a mental thanksgiving that he was not to be one of our number. This tight attachment to uncle Tawney's coat-tails would have been too cruel a drag upon us. ' Some of the party must go, at all events,' said my father cpiietly. 'We can't be rude to parishioners ; and the people are asked.' ' And the meats baked,' I added, with a laugh. 'There's a lobster curry,' put in my my mother hurriedly. ' A deadly dangerous dish. Who's to eat of that, I'd like to know '!' and uncle looked hotter than ever. ' I—l had intended it for you,' stammered my mother. ' But it can be transferred to the truant couple who are to give such trouble,' I interposed. ' Possibly it may have a lowering effect on them.' (To be continued.)