LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1441, 28 September 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LAL. [“All the Year Bound.”] A Story in Three Charters. Chapter 11. Before a week was over, Fairfax Clint was familiar with every corner of the run, and had made himself popular with all hands. Never did I know a human being with such a gift of fascination, or such an inexhaustible flow of spirits and quaint humour. Yet he was never noisy, very seldom laughed, and about his face and voice some times seemed to hang a melancholy shadow. I thought afterwards a foreshadow of what was coming. But, as I say, never was there a man so popular; even our rugged old Scotch shepherd found a smilo for Clint’s cheerful, ‘ Well, old Thistles;’ while as for Tom, our cook and man of all work, I verily believe the happiest moments of his life were -when Fairfax took into his head to assist iu the kitchen, making Tom fetch the ingredients, and wait on him, while he elaborated uneatable messes for our evening spread. Though at first I had hated the idea of anyone always following me about, and had perhaps found Clint’s ignorance rather boring, after the first amusement wore off. still I got quite to miss the lad whenever he wont off to Nelson for a day or two, and to feel lonely, and off my feed, when I sat down without his face at the other end of our table.

Among other of his. fancies when first he came, was one for a garden. ‘ Waste of time,’ I growled ; * the weeds will outrun the flowers.’ But he laughed at me, and set to woi’k all the same, and really he worked well; for though digging blistered his hands, and the sun scorched his face brick-color, he persevered until he had a plot of ground fenced in and planted to his mind.

‘ Flowers are great humanisers, ’ he would say ; ‘ only look at these children, my dear Ralph.’ ‘ These children ’ were a dirty, ragged, barefooted quartette from our second shepherd’s hut, who hovered about wherever Clint was, and worshipped him as a wonderful being from a world afar. Poor little wretches ! At one time I had made some efforts to improve them; and, thinking it best to strike at the root of the matter, began by urging their miserable, reprobate mother to introduce something like order and neatness into their hut. But I never made the attempt twice, being met by a torrent of half-tipsy abuse, and threatened with the loss of her hu’band—an invaluable station-hand, and one I should really have been unwilling to lose. The only step, I could take to mitigate the nuisance was to remove the whole family to an old hut a mile farther from the station, where Mrs Mahaffy’s peculiarities were leas obtrusive. It would have seemed a wretched place, perhaps, to many an English cottager, perched on a hillside, roughly built of planks half an inch apart, and thatched with toi-grass. But, such as it was, I’ve known people live happily there, and make it look neat and pleasant too. Pretty it could not fail to be in such a situation; and it always scorned to me a sin to poison such a view with cabbage-stalks, and potato-parings, and heaps of stinking mussel-shells.

Did the miserable, shock-headed imps, who sprawled among the fern, hatless and shoeless, never ses fee yellow sands below their hillside. And the restless, ever-chang-ing sea f Did they never look up and learn anything from the peaks overhead, which, clothed with dark shrubs and leafage, towered above till they set a sharp gleam of snow against the blue of the sky ? These are some of the questions I used fe ask myself w r hen I first went to Wyko; but you see I had other things so think about, and, like most reformer?, after i ha,d removed the bljOt a little farther fyom my oSvu d- pr, I' forgot all about the needs, luaieria'l and spiritual of tho young Mahaffya, In fact, X folt half amused at the concern and dingnst Clint expressed, the first time his wanderings brought him in contact with this interesting family. ‘Ah, my boy, at lirst 1 felt just as you do ; but I found it waste of time, as you will.’

However, whether CUnt was mo:;p persevering, or whether ho found oat a better way to go to work, I can't say ; but, to my amazement, one Sunday afternoon, when the Reverend Walter Hooper, a right good parson, rodotiver as usual to preach to us, and tho station hands were mustering in our verandah, up came a little procession, with very clean and shy faces ana new pinafores, which for the life of me I couldn’t identify. The truth only dawned on me X saw Clint, with that indescribably grace of his, rise from his rug in fee covaer, and take Lai, the eldest gut, by Ul« hand to show her ci " Through all the service Lai kept her eyes fixed with humble adoration on Clint’s face, rising or kneeling as he did : and, after that, every Sunday, whatever tlva, lapses in the week might be, Ava acvoi; failed to appear, scrubbed and tidy,' as the service hour.

‘How o.i earth have yen clone it, Fair* Mx i’ 1 askdcl the same night, while we were Baying our last smoke before turning in. He laughed. *My clear fellow, don’t ask me. i never felt more astonished in my life, nr more bumbled, if you can understand. 1 did give Lai a talking to about a week ago, and a few shillings to rig out the kids afresh, but I had no notion that what I had said would have produced such a stupey/Lua elicet. And to tell you the truth iMboli S ( " felt ashamed to think M w lit'tio oao really tiles t" « heu b'sa'w that poor girl coming ,jj> «o TiraWy jufet : for a few words of mine ! If 'you*won’t laugh,"old follow, lam geLjy to have Lai and her brothers up ti/iop'e" week till they know how to read/.' c * , J v , I ,» *■> ;■ •*-- ■'

* Laugh I I honor you for it, only won’t you 6nd it an awful grind ?’ * Why, yes, I’m afraid I shall,’ answered Fairfax, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and staring at the fire ; ‘ and yet I cin’tlook at a poor wretch like Lai without feeling uncomfortable. I suppose it’s what parsons call conscience ; and my conscience won’t let me rest till I’ve taught these young savages, at any rate, what little I know myself.’ So Clint’s evening school began—began at the kitchen-table after supper was over ; the pupils being Alice Mahaffy, popularly known as “Lai,” and her brothers, Bill and Ted; and the schoolmaster being that ineffable swell, Mr Fairfax Clint. Ted and Bill, having grown up like young goats on the open hillside, were sharp enough to all outdoor signs and sounds, but hopelessly dense when it came to the alphabet. But Lai proved a wonder to herself, and a source of pride to her teacher. Never was a girl so determined to learn what at first seemed perfectly incomprehensible and bewildering. Many a time have I gone to the kitchen to look on, and have seen Lai, with knit brows and flushed face, bending over her book, and muttering fiercely between her teeth : ‘ I’ll see it sometime, Muster Clint; try me again ! but I’m such a fool to-night.’ One night, long after the little class had been dismissed, I found Lai crouching against the outer door in a wild fit of weeping. * Hallo, Lai, what’s up ?’ I asked, pulling her into the moonlight; ‘ has that precious mother been hammering you again ?’ But no answer could 1 extract except a not very polite request to leave her alone, and wrenching herself out of my grasp, she ran away and hid herself among the manuka. This little incident would not have remained probably in my mind, but for the chance remark of our parson one Sunday shortly afterwards. I had been riding partway home with him after service, and as we went up the hill by the Mahaffy’s hut, we came on Lai, lying asleep full-length under a wild cherry-tree, with her hands behind her head for a pillow, and an open spelling-book beside her. She seemed to have cried herself to sleep, for the long lashes resting on her cheek were wet, and matted into little points, and she sobbed as we passed by. ‘ That poor child 1 I am afraid her mother ill-treats her,’ said Parson Hooper; * and what a pretty girl she is gl owing!’ Pretty! 1 was too struck with this new view of L»1 to dispute it, and my companion passed on to other subjects; but as soon as I parted from him, I rode back quickly to the spot where wc passed the sleeping girl. But she was gone, and I had to ride home without deciding the question whether the parson’s eyes or mine had been mistaken. At the verandah door, however. I saw Lai with her milkcan waiting till Tom chose to find time to fill it for her, leaning cross-legged against the door-post, and looking moodily out at the sea’ I walked up, and took a critical survey. A long-limbed girl, with a very short and rather ragged stuff frock; bare feet, brown as berries ; arms and hands to match; a good deal of brown hair, which lately she had taken to brushing and tying back with a scrap of faded ribbon ; a thin face, with a flush of bright colour in the cheeks ; and a pair of brown eyes, which were always watchful and suspicious to me, but soft and wistful to Clint. My eyes, sharpened by Parson’s carelt ss remark, took note of all these points, and I summoned Lai sharply to me. ‘ Well, Mr Westcott,’ she said coming unwillingly, and scowling at me with her straight black brows, ‘ How old are you, Lai ?’ ‘ I se tnrned fifteen last summer ; but it ain’t no business o’ yourn, is it, Mr Westcott ?’ ‘ Not much, perhaps ; but you are growing a hig girl, and ought to go to service somewhere. Wouldn’t you like to go away from this dull place ?’ * Go away from the station 1’ echoed Lai, all the colour fading out of her face as she raised her startled eyes to mine ; ‘ I couldn’t do it 1 Besides, who’d like to have me for a servantshe added with a scornful little laugh. ‘ But if you’d like to try it, Lai, I could try for you,’ I went on, but she interrupted me fiercely : ‘ Look here, Mr Westcott ; I know I ain’t a good girl, but I don’t know as ever I did you any harm, that you should try and drive me away ; and I can’t go, I can’t, I can’t! I should die if I couldn’t never see his face, nor hear him speak. ’ {'To ho continued.)