LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1439, 26 September 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LAL. [" All the Year Bound."] A Storv in Three Chapters. Cji after I, We colonists are apt to s»y that there is no twilight in New Zealand, when waxing sentimental over memories of the land of our birth, and recalling many a pleasant halfhour " between the lights." But although we have no lingering dusk, senset with us seems to have a peculiar beauty, and a tender power to steal into one's heart. Many a time have 1, rough colonial as I am, stood on my way home, to watch the fantastic obuds and colours of the sky as n : ght drew on. Such a sunset glory lit up the whole sky, and the scarcely heaving sea beneath, one autumn eveuing many years ago, as 1 was riding home on a tired horse, after a hard day's pounding after the outlying sheep. At that time I was about thirty years old, and had a snug billet as manager on one of Lulworth and Clint's great runs near Nelson. Five hundred a year, with unlimited grub, and a sufficiently weathert'ght hou'e on the station, was no bad thing for a penniless man wrMi no interest; and I often plumed myself on my own luck when I came across other tellows, with twice my brains, and a little money, who could hardly pay for their bread and cheese.

' A beautiful sky, Sprightly,' I ctaid, patting my old obeatnut aa be carefully picked bis way dsy?n face of a steep hill

covered with manuka scrub and yellowing ferns ; • but wind to-morrew, and rain before to-morrow night.' Sprightly shook his head till the bridle raDg, and stepped out at my voice. Winding down we went, till the intrminable hill ended abruptly in a reach of level sand, along which we could canter for a couple of miles. The sunset colours were fading from the high peaks we had left, but enough light lingered on the flat to give brilliant hues to the rocks, which towered over our heads, or lay like fallen giants in our path; while far out to sea, beyond the shadow of the Bhore, stretched a long streak of amber. I rode that way twice a week, as a rule, sometimes oftener; but never do I remember to have met a living creature to exchange good-night with till this particular evening, when, no sooner had Sprightly started at a weary canter over the flat, than I pulled him up short, in sheer amazement, for there in front was a fellow dressed like a picture, riding at a foot pace just in the direction we were going in, too. • Who the deuce can it be ?' waß my first mental observation. ' Ten to one it's some new chum come to spy out the land; though I'll answer that chap don't know a sheep when he sees it.' A 8 I neared my unconscious friend, I took in the fact that he rode his horse like a gentleman; that his saddle, bridle, and saddlebags were new and glossy; that, in fact, from his jaunty wideawake to his English-made boots, he was a new chum. Riding up alongside, I observed a white collar and pair of dogskin gloves, which removed any lingering doubts as to the fact.' ' Good evening, mate,' I called out, when I got up to the stranger; ' going far tonight?' ' Not much farther, I hope,' he answered, turning a face of almost girlish beauty upon me, and slightly raising his hat. ' But that is a question I should be glad to ask yon ; that is, if you know this part of the country well.' ' Lived here these six years, and know every corner a sheep can hide in,' I answered, rather grimly, contrasting his high-bred accents with my own colonialisms. ' Ah! then you can tell me, where is this Wyke Station ?' 'This Wyke Station,' I replied, in my crustiest manner, 'is where I hope to be eating my supper in half an hour's time. And pray, sir, what may be your business there ?' The newcomer turned to look more closely at me. ' Why you must be—of course you must be—Mr .Ralph Westcott; the very man lam going to see ' '1 am Kalph Westcott,' I rejoined, seeing he paused, as if expecting me to say something. * I thought so. Well, lam Fairfax Clint. How d'ye do ? lam awfully glad to meet you on this dreary and interminable mudflat.' So saying, he extended his hand with such a cordial gesture, that I felt ashamed of my bearish manners and gave him a hearty grip. ' Didn't the governor write and tell you I was coming out?' he asked, as we resumed our j ourney. ' Several mails back, he wrote that you might possibly be sent on, but I never heard anything certain.' 'Oh, well, you see, Westcott, the governor is getting old, and closer and more suspicious every day. Lately he won't even allow a fellow an opinion of his own. So one fine morning I got marching, or rather sailing orders, and here I am.' All this was said in the same quiet, rather bored manner which had sot my back up before; still I could not help softening to the boy when I looked at his face, and thought how unfit he would prove for station life. * And what do you mean to do, Mr Clint, now you are here ?' I asked, after a pause. •Do ? Oh, nothing that I know of. I suppose I shall stay with you fill I get orders to start again. I'll go about with you, unless you don't want my company; and I suppose I must write a 'report,' for the governor's benefit, every month, in which I hope you'll help me.' He laughed as if there was a joke somewhere, but for my part I felt rather put out. Here was a great baby sent out for me to take in tow, and yet all the time he was my • Boss,' and had to report on my management. I was a bit of an autocrat on my station, and resented this.

Fairfax Clint seemed to guess what I was thinking. ' Look here, Westcott,' he said, touching my horse's neck with his whip, and speaking in a more manly and earnest tone, which I liked better j 'my father's all wrong in this business. What's the use of his sending me out to overlook his runs, when I know less than a child about such things ; but that's no business of mine, and still lees of yours. Let us be friends while we are together. Forget that my name is Clint at all! Call me Fairfax, and fancy me a new hand you've just picked up to clean your boots and saddle your horse. I can do both, I assure you.' All the while he had been speaking we h»d slowly climbed a steep hill, clothed with white-flowering manuka and fern. As he ceased we reached the summit, and began to descend on the other, so my only answer was to point out the stockyard in the valley at our feet, flanked by a single-storied wooden house.

'There's Wyke Station I've lived here for six years, and am glad to welcome a son of the firm to it.'

' That's kind'y said,' he answered gravely, falling back in the narrow path. * I'll follow you, and only trust this brute is surefoofcod.'

We reached the stock yard, and tied up onr horses, the dogs rushing out to welcome u°, and Tom, the cook, opening the house door and showing a warm glow of firelight. ' Come in, Mr Clint/ I said, 'and be prepared to rough it. This is the kitchen; here's the parlor, which is drawing room, smoking room, and feeding room ia one; yoa see there's no lack of dry wood here, so we have good fi es ; herd's my bedroom, and yonder room shall he. got ready f r you by the time sapper's over Meantime, make yourself at home, and use mine,'and having, as I thought, done the honours handsomely, I kicked the smouldering logs into a orack--1 ng blaze, and left him in possession ef my sanctum. When I came in from seeing to our horses, 1 found Clint in the kitohen, already at home, chatting to Tom, as that old rascal fried mutton chops and potatoes.

' By Jove, I never thought of my horse,' he exclaimed in consternation, as he caught sight of me coming in from the yard with his and my saddle, ' why on earth didn't you tell me, Westcott ?'

' Did you think we kept a groom here ?' I retorted. ' Never mind, young 'un ; you shall do both horseß to-morrow, I promise you. Show a light, Tom, while I wash my hands, and then for supper, for I'm starving.'

(To be continued.)