HIS NEW BIRTH.

Marlborough Daily Times, Volume II, Issue 118, 7 May 1880, Page 2 (Supplement)

HIS NEW BIRTH.

U hawlc veered round the mountain jak the mountain with a great horse* ioe brand upon its sleek side. Oscillaons, evolutions, feathery prow cleaving ie rother-wave, parting the foamy light; nappled wing-sails poised, _ rising, falling n buoyant cadence. This is what the bawk saw in his diurnal sail about the aleasaunce of his kingdom. Above him, the highest delights of heaven—beneath him, the lowest evils of earth. For there, on the remote edge ol South Park, Colorado, broods a sinister town Viewed from the hawk’s nest on the crag, its most repulsive feature is a deep ragged seam running parallel with it, whose depths are ’strewn with skulllike stones, bleached and smooth and ominous. This seam is a gulch, erst the the bed of a mountain-torrent, but now voided of those clear waters and traversed only by the yellow stream guided m a cataract down its side. Is is a productive gold-washing —the banks of reel earth rising perpendicularly about it, with broken pinnacles left standing here and there, are crumbling and receding nigh bv night. Such insecure foundations befit the town which they harbour—Sunshine on the one hand, its Chinatown, on the other. In the filth} hovels of the latter, herd the Asiatic gulch-workers —a stranger takes covert satisfaction in noting that so vile a growth is not solidly grounded. Sunshine, its very name a trap, festers on a slanting hillside, and seems sliding down to greet the horrible fissure below it, which yawns upward, eager for the tray. There is a road down into it, as down every gulf—a gentle, well-worn descent—and one up the farther side, hidden by lagged boulders, as the upward road always is. Beyond extend the plains, a Itangle of perennial flowers. | The town itself is definitely shabby ;it I wears scars and defects with an uproau- | ous air. overhanging the chasm with impetuosity. The narrow streets are variously lined —sometimes with quite new houses, again with others dark as from premature age, but all m various stages of decay. Here and there is a gap, as of some black vacancy in a huge jaw, and through such the red gulf is seen, open and expectant. Vainly the plains shine opalescent—vainly the mountain chain undulates and soars in aspiration, stretching its ‘vanishing mazes’ leagues away. Hero are neither eyes to see nor ears to hear. Some of the little dwellings have flowering porches and windows ; in the suburbs is a painted villa, where carefully nurtured trees murmur and rustle, their feet in toying rivulets. These more homelike shelters have an air of unsuspicious innocence, which only serves to heighten the vicious aspect of the settlement. High winds scour the hillsides bare. The people are rough, and hard—they are like the town, brooding ; like the gulf, devilish; some few, like the rare glimpses of brightness, attractive. The women for tho most part are sullen and sombre. There are. but few little children, making one wish there were none ; and God has heard the wish, which hasjjperhaps been an entreaty on the lips of some poor mothers, Summer scorches, rain lashes at, Sunshine. All adverse elements come hurtling down the rocky gorges upon decay and filth and gloom : the gulf’s maw glistens ; the poised town leans over and hearkens to the ravenmgs of the befouled water and the stream of imprecations rising from below. Towards the close of a day now almost forgotten autumnal gales were coursing through Sunshine streets. Clouds of dust obscured the town, but with no merciful veiling : seen in snatches through their sombre pall, the gulch loomed fathomless, and was even more terrible in this uncertainty than in its perceptiblymeasurablo depth. Here and there upon tho mountain slopes changing cotton woods flashed lurid orange hues from amongst darkling pines, or hung like glittering lightning bolts above the precipices. One reel finger of light suspended in the west menaced a gathering cloud-rift; beneath window’s all ablaze with its fiery significance there sat a wondering child, wide-eyed at this unwonted splendour of his squalid home. With tho debris peculiar to such localaties—debris which sweeps up the roadway in all its homeliness at morning, and which the sifting breeze conveys gayly back at eventide—debris amongst which each householder may for months recognise tho refuse of his own establishment —there tramped up the street a man. Amid the swirl of cans and eddy of hoops and rags he held on his defiant course, unamused, unobservant. Square of brow as of figure, tho same close knitting visible in both, dark of eyes and narrow of nostril, with black hair matted to a round head, with dogged look and step, Joo Ramsay passed saloon and stable with no more than a furtive consciousness of both. Both reciprocrated. From out the reckless mood of the one and the slangy joviality incidental to the other there shone a dubiousness regarding this passer-by which was marked and foreign to Sunshine. There men were swiftly determined, acted and ceased from action, but doubt was a prolonged threatening which might breed—anything. That is a black word, whose scope of awful possibility might in such a place make such a marked man quail. What it signified Joe Ramsay did not pause to learn. He strode on from beneath the sunset rays to where the clouds hung swart, leaving stern hints and. flagging patiences "behind him. Drawing near the hut, whose panes of fire were slowly cooling, he paused irresolute, then with changed gait slouched forward, almost haltingly tho last few steps. Doubtless his recording angel set down upon tho yet blank page of his good impulses that incipient hesitation, the first, as the last, of his wild career. His coming startled the wistful little watcher in the dust near his feet, and the rounded baby figure tottered to its tiny height. ‘Say now, Tommy, where’s your sister I where’s Biddy V ‘ Biddy in ’ousc,’ piped the clear voice. ’ ‘Gall her now, there’s a good chap,’ said tho deeper tones, sounding more harsh in attempted blandishment. Tommy merely smiled a vague baby smilo.

‘ Call Lidcly ! call ! imperiously. ‘No, no; dood Tommy—not bovver Liddy.’

Tho man stamped with impatience, and, stooping, pinched the plump shoulder nearest him. A shrill scream from tho baby, his cries of ‘ Biddy ! Biddy !’ a writhing of Ramsay’s lips which was their habitual smile, and the advent of a little hurrying figure, were simultaneous. Though Biddy came springing out like panthcress to her young, the maternal instinct gave way to a more impetuous one when she saw who stood near. Ignorant of Ramsay’s connection with a grief whoso cause might have been readily refered to any of tho passing vexations of childhood, she glanced back at the house warningly as he drew behind a rock. Snatching up the flying child, whose cries were poured into the sanctuary of her neck, she followed the man, and paused at his side. With one foot forward, her form retreating, head erect, arching brows and parted lips, her draperies blown back in deep blue masses, a light (not of the sunset, alas !) cn her face, the girl’s whole frame was one tense question. The baby’s shrieks quivered down the gamut into soft coos ; from his vantage-ground on her shoulder ho stared across at the rose-garlanded brows of gathered peaks, the enemy at his back forgotten when unseen. _ ‘ Ive just a word to say to you, Biddy,’ her lover whispered hoarsely. ‘ I don’t know as I’ll hear it, you’ve been so long a-comin’.’ ‘ Well, ain’t T come now ? An’ I’m goin’ to speak out too, my girl.’ ‘ Whether I’m willing or not V came saucily from Biddy. His face answered for him before his lips said ‘ Yes.’ Biddy fretted her tawny head. As a bird on the bough swings from side to side, and singing, pauses in the airy act at the first note of alarm, so she paused, her arch pose stiffening into a mockery of itself. For Ramsay’s look constrained her heart-beats : her cheek and the sky paled together. ‘ I’ve got no time to fool,’ he swore : ‘I say, I’ve got no time. Things is lookin’ worse for me : I must know where I stand. Will you take me or leave me, Biddy ? You’ve got your choice, but you’d better say now, now.’ The emphasis of tho last word was magical: it peopled the dusk with hooded menaces. It recalled to Biddy’s mind many whispers of past weeks, the suspicions and avoidances of men whose code was the loosest border one. it caused thoughts of a late mysterious murder to creep across her brain with elusive significance. She could not have told how these things came to her : she cared not. No dainty shyness had been fostered within her there beside the gulf—no delicate impulses. She had conducted herself with care from a certain proud femininity, an instinctive avoidance of evil, though its germs were daily hatched in her sight. She resisted the material loves about her with fierce feline persistence. But here ! now ! Joe Ramsay was in danger —her own J oc. Her olive skin glowed, her limbs thrilled, her very hair was alive with magnetism, her grey circling eyes shone upon him. ‘ Well, are you going to answer a fellow on tho square or not ? Don’t keep me waitin’ when you know I love you. I’m off to-night, Biddy. I want you. I’m off across the Park, drove like a dog, and alone, unless you’ll come with me. I love you : conic !’ She never saw the selfishness, she ignored the risk. She was only an adoring, untamed girl, responding to and reflecting Ramsay’s moods. She believed him to bo as good as those about them. When he grasped her arm at the last words her "lissome form swayed towards his with cat-like grace : their lips met. ‘ Then you’ll come to-night ?’ ‘ Where to, Joe V ‘Where I’m a-gein’—with me.’ Was it not enough ? With him ! ‘ Yes, Joe, I will, I will,’ she cried. The eager fierceness of his face relaxed. ‘ That’s you, Biddy ? Now listen. I’ll be at the bottom of the gulch road at one to-night. Come quiet : don’t bring nothin’ with you unless it’s money. Got none ? Curse the luck ! Well, we’ve got a good piece to go, so come sharp. Mind, at one !’

And again she made answer, ‘ I will.’ The shadows had deepened to darkness. The wind sprang out of tho mountain defiles and leapt like a wolf at the throat of the town. The baby on Biddy’s shoulder slept. That fragile spirit which hides in the soul of every woman living shrank at the night, at the distance, at the hour. She almost hesitated : she valued her good name. Gently she touched her lover’s hand.

‘ Will you deal honest with me,’ she asked.

What vows he made, what oaths he took, were not worth even this passing record. Her foolish trust flattered him, and yet he meant to take advantage of it. His rough assurauce once more won her absolute belief. A few more words of caution were exchanged, and they drew apart. Biddy halted after a first step. Curving her body about and raising her hand with tremulous pathos, she arrested Ram3ay’s departure. He felt a question in her manner, and braced himself up to meet it. A better man would have felt it as a blow when it came—‘ Do you think I’ll be a good wife to you, Joe ? and will you be true to me, dear ?’ Ho flung his arms about her. The child on her shoulder woke to a recollection of past wrongs, and struck with dimpled hands at the savage eyes so near him, crying, ‘ At’s a naughty, naughty man, Biddy—naughty !’ And this was Bydia Matlack’s last warning.

A new day was advancing. In the soft gray enfolding of dawn the night wind was hilled to sleep. Stillness fell upon all things. Far up on the timber line tho weird cypresses, standing with stunted limbs all growing back one way, and turning blank frontlets to the pinnacles above, looked like sentient things, with outstreaming hair and garments arrested in their upward career by some sight of horror.

At tlic first flicker of daylight across the the gulch the paving skulls began to peer andldirmnor out. The gulch had a victim. Not "one of the daily ones, jabbering curses as he worked knee-deep in water, but a dead one. At the foot of the downward road ho lay, a dark stain on the around beside him, like a hateful fungus

growing rapidly in the night hours—with daybreak the rank enlargement had ceased. The sun was first to see him ; next the hawk swooped down ; shortly after Fun Ghing stumbled over the prostrate figure, uttered an amazed —‘ No diunkee ? and sat down to meditate. The pulse of Sunshine was intermittent as regarded Chinamen. As workers they w T ere safe —as news-bearers ? ‘No sabe,’ muttered the diplomatic Fun. . Nevertheless, he trotted up to town again. In the brief period of his absence a change had come over tho town. Before the livery-stable a composite group surrounded a horseman, who, from the saddle, narrated somewhat of interest, interlarded and interrupted with oaths. The faces of all wore a look of anger, tempered with an undercurrent as of pre-historic doubt solved under difficulties. Fun Oiling forgot liis mission as tho story met liis ear. A miner at Mosquito had been robbed of a large sum of money early in the previous night, and had been found stabbed through the lungs, and apparently dead. Tho circumstances were precisely those of a murder now three weeks old which had disturbed the community. This man had, however, revived, would seemingly live, and had named liis assailant —Joe Ramsay ! The declaration spread from mouth to mouth, eliciting more anger than surprise. For some time Ramsay had been suspected of deeds outside the wide limits of the general lawlessness, but their customs required some palpable proof before their hands should be raised against him to inflict the fullest penalties. Fun Ghing listening to the fierce inquiry as to Ramsey’s probable whereabouts, was shrewd enough to divine that the gulch held the clew. Cautiously he pulled the coat of a man beyond him, and, standing well on the outskirts of the group, prepared for instant flight, he uttered a glib ‘ George Saloman, you brudder im gulch, allee samee deadee,’ and flitted away. When the startled brother reiterated the news, help was not wanting. The victim was found, ascertained to be living, carried to his home, and all Sunshine gathered about his door speculating on his possible connection with Ramsay’s flight. Bets as to the latter’s route were in order, plans were canvassed ; it was a lively morning for the saloon—the stable’s harvest would come later. One man only was silent, leaning against the cabin as one who meant to stay. A thin, nervous man was Simon Matlack, with a shambling irresolution written all over him. To-day he was so altered that liis fellows scarcely knew him, and at any loss stirring moment would have commented upon the fact. His colourless face was firm as he locked his secret within his breast and waited for the wounded man to speak. At last there came to the door a weeping— “He’s come to, boys, an’ it was Joe Ramsay. He met Joe an’ a woman late last night in the gulch, saw Farnell’s horses, guessed somethin’ was up, an’ tried to stop ’em, but Joe cut him down. They was goin’ the gulch road, you see, boys—goin’ to cross over. Half-a-dozen men withdrew from the group. With matter-of-fact quietude they looked to pistols, saddled horses and monnted. At the street corner Matlack joined them. ‘ What is it Sime ? ’ queried- the leader. “ I’m one o’ you.” ‘ What fur now, old man 1 ’ ‘ Well, lie’s ! —he’s took my Biddy with him! ’

A burst of execration, of whipping and spurring, a clattering into the chasm, and the bloodhounds were off. The day paled, the night faded, a brilliant moon was passing, when Sunshine saw the seven returning, with two prisoners in their midst. Two ? They had only expected one back ; the other, according to precedent, should have been left— a nothing—by the road or on the plain. Curiosity was rife ; the town surged into the alleys and up to the horses with savagely-derisive greeting. Convoyed thus grimly, Ramsay’s aspects were not yet hopeless. He seemed, on the contrary, a man who had risked a card which might yet win him a desperate game. By his side rode a woman. Who was she ? ' Hot Liddy. The entire community knew Liddy from a child, but to this woman ( ;irl no longer) no one speaks. Her own mother looks steadily at her, coldly dumb as she passes. Ramsay and his captors have exchanged words on the journey, but no voice has for a moment come to this woman drowning the accusing inner tones which she hears. She had been found abandoned by the roadside. When first made aware of pursuit, Ramsay had ordered her down from her horse and left her just where the road split in two. I do not think he ever heard her agonised entreaties as he mounted her fresher horse and gelloped ofi, leading the other ; his _ life was the merest chance just then, whiie his fancy had had full play. When the seven came up, Liddy told them nothing, but without speaking, with seemingly unconscious looks and cunning inclinations of the body, she managed to delude them into taking the wrong road of the two which led among foot hilla, both having fresh tracks npon their surfaces. When they did retrace their way and captured Ramsay, a veil as of blindness fell over her face. Then, stricken and contemned, she rides by a broken fence ineffectually hedging a wretched garden where a little child is at play. The procession and clamour draw him to the bars, the matted curls are brushed backward in the effort to see everything, the curious lids are lifted, are widened—with a rapturous sob in his throat, ‘ My Liddy ! my dee Liddy ! here I is ! ’ he shouts and struggles after, her sole welcomer.

As the prisoners are conducted to the tavern rapid questions are asked and answered. The Mosquito gold had been found upon Ramsay’s person, and the intention had been to execute him at once, at this juncture the listeners were unaffectedly surprised and tumultuous inquiries arose, all of which may bo summed up by Saloman’s grim ‘ 1 why didnt’ you ? ’ ‘ Because he begged to be let see his mother first.’

The reply was given in all good faith and so received. I admit it is amazing. Even those whose friends had been injured appeared to recognise an odious necessity for postponing ‘ the show.’

‘ His mother ? Gosh ! yes. Forgot the old woman,’ was the universal sentiment. ‘ Who’s a-goin’ to fetch her ? ’ ‘ I’m goin’ I reckon.’ ‘Yes, Halliday’s goin’.’ ‘ On liis young colt ? ’ ‘ I’ll be if lie isn’t! ’ ‘He’ll be quick, then.’ ‘ S’posin’ we’d forgot Mother Ramsay ? Such was the cross-fire of words, far hotter in reality than can be described, while the ‘ young colt’ was led out. He was a thing of steel and silk, his grand being animated by intelligence and controlled by endurance. His nostrils drank great volumes of air ; his step was large and free —when his master mounted, he was carried away as conquerors are carried. Mrs. Ramsay was evidently a power. For no other would the ‘young colt’ have been sent upon such a hurried errand. One of those women who are felt wherever they go—whose union of purpose and judgment, whose balanced institutions and calm readiness of action, bring the weak into a sheltered subjection and the strong into a desirable alliance —the whole rude county respected her, and Sunshine had the single virtue of pluming itself upon possessing her. Her dues were unquestioned—she who forced a way in the midst of the many for the rights of the few was in absence recalled as a living potentiality, not a memory. Up the valley rode Halliday through gay fall-flowers whose scattered petals spread a royal tapestry beneath the young colt’s cleaving feet. Past the dim wood, past ravine, settlement and panting forge, he galloped until he reached the deserted village of Montgomery, at the confluence of splendid ranges. Bike a blur upon rich beauties of landscape it lay beside a scarred pass. The houses from whose chinks the purple pennant-grass waved fitfully—whose staring vacancies where doors and windows should have been, seemed visages from which the mind was absent—in whose interiors still lay household utensils, each in an unwonted place, as though dropped by nerveless hands at the first sudden instinct of flight—these houses were black foils to the loveliness of the scene. A shadow as of great pathos hung over the place. Mills were huge and rusting machinery thrust out massive iron arms fike a helpless giant were mutely conscious of desolation. The bams offered no suggestion of stored grain or opportune shelter ; the thresholds mourned a human foot; the streets were trackless ; the town knew itself to be no abidingplace, and stood deserted and ashamed. There are fellow-towns to be found whereever the tide of mining speculation has waxed strong and swiftly ebbed, but none more sad than Montgomery. Mrs. Ramsay had come hither for her annual herb-gathering, and stood in a doorway as Halliday rode up a small woman in a dark siufi grown and white kerchief. Her hair was of a pearly white, her complexion still delicate. Her eyes possessed her worn face, burning with inextinguishable glow; they were tne eyes of Venus, golden limpid, marvellous. Her finely cut mouth was mastered by nerves of iron ; she lived Intelligent Will personified. Halliday met her welcoming hand: I ain’t come to stop, Mother Ramsey.’ ‘ What is your news, then, Halliday V Her voice was that of a well-educated person (and she was such), having also a characteristic resonance of its now. ‘Well, you see—you know—Joe— ’ stammered the messenger. Her eyes flashed aknowledge upon him. ‘ I see,’ she said, and stepped toward the horse. ‘ Stay ! tell me in detail if there is time.’ The melting eyes belied the cool even voice.

Halliday choked over his tale, but she gathered most of his meaning: then mindful of passing time and the uncontrolled natures fourteen miles away, she stepped on a mossgrown stone alertly, she took the young colt’s mane in her hand, she was seated, she was off. It was like riding one of those steeds of Shelley’s:— My coursers are fed with the lightning; They drink of the whirlwind’s stream; And when the red morning is brightening They bathe in the fresh sunbeam ; They have strength for their swiftness, I ween.

As she left Montogomery, so she entered Sunshine, where her wild advent was cheered. Granite is not more grey and hard than was she when she entered the room in which judges and captives were seated. It was full time she came. Recrimination had begun ; men had grown hot at the ring of their own words ; delay had become insupportable. Just as she crossed the threshold a taunt was flung at Ramsay —‘ An’ you shook the girl ofl to save yourself, you hound !’ What was once Lydia Matlack opened its marble lips—‘You lie ! I made him go.’ Utter bewilderment seized hold of her lover. He had probablv never heard the word magnanimity, but its royal spirit quelled his rude soul. He grasped dimly at a loftier idea in that moment,_ when he drew closer to the girl and said with a tempering of respect— ‘ I wish I could make it up to you, Liddy. ’ The approaching mother heard and divined. She had come to bid farewell to the one disgrace of her life ; she detei’mined that Liddy should have another chance in this world. With this sudden resolution impregnating her whole person, she waved back the men who were gravely leaving the room. ‘ Stay, boys,’ she asked them simply. ‘ We’re sorry,’ the spokesman began. ■ I s’pose you know how it is 1 ’ ‘ I do, and I wish to speak to you all, to everybody ; will you hear me out ? ’ In token of consent the listeners choked up doors and windows, and were then still. Ramsay’s very nails grew white ; what he hoped for in requesting the interview was coming. ‘Boys,’ spoke the mother solemnly, ‘ you all know me. You remember how I have lived amongst you, sharing the hard daily life with a heart and hand for every misfortune and no hints at a better part. When Indians attacked us in earlier times I loaded your rifles, I fought with you, I helped to bury your dead. When better days came I had always a counsel for you, I nursed your babies, I comforted your wives. I have stood between you and murder and hate and wrong again and again. Is it true V Fifty deep voices made answer —‘ It air true.’

‘ When you were sick you came to me ; when you were troubled you came to me ; when you were dazed and mad and changed to devils I went to you and held you back. Still, I asked nothing of you. When the Indian war broke out so near us I sent my husband to it. You knew him a quiet listless man, and chaffed at his going. He went because I said —‘ it is your duty—you must go.’ After he fell, shot to the heart, I sent my Frank to take his place. You recollect how he died 1 ’

An attesting shudder spread like a wave to those outside in the street.

‘ Still, I had Jim left —Joe I had not, because from his babyhood he was never mine, like the rest —he had been born here. I had Jim. When the shaft fell that day at Mosquito and every one feared to venture down, he looked round at me —my brave boy ! my best! I said—Go, my son.’ He saved two of you before he met his death—is it true.’ Could it be sobs that the walls re-echoed —those and the word ‘ True V

‘ Yonder boy is my last. He is what you have made him. You have long since robbed him of his soul— you would now destroy the body. You stamp your work with your likeness, and then you break it. I repeat—he is what you have made him. Is it true V Silence confronts her. ‘ls it true V she reiterates rigidly. Then defence makes answer : ‘lt air true. ’

‘Then you bear witness. I have given this settlement three lives : it owes me this one. Let him free. The dead and I demand Joe Ramsay at your hands.’ What a tumult arose ! She quelled it with glances dilating as fire-flames shift and mount. She encountered expostulations, fierce refusals, word-avalanches, with that inexorable sentence. ‘ The dead and I demand him.’

Finally she saw tokens of yielding in those who dared not refuse her outright, and drew the breath-spent swimmers draw when the shallows are reached. The prey was relinquished, people feeling that all Mother Ramsay’s virtues were cancelled as they sullenly consented. Her son would have thanked her; with uplifted hand she stopped him. ‘Go !’ she said. ‘ Yours was the worst birthagony, but it wss nothing to that with which I give you to life again. You are forbidden to re-enter this country. Go, and claim a mother no more. ’ That the town-magistrate was present she had earlier notice. He was beckoned now to her side and briefly bidden, ‘Marry them.’ The strange legal ceremony was performed while she stood looking firmly to right and to left, awing back words which if spoken might have resulted in outbreak at this last moment. When it was completed she took Liddy to her heart. ‘Stay with me, my child,’ she whispered. But the wife gently shook the mother off; she loosed the grasp of the child at her knee, and took the rough hand her husband extended.

‘Be it so, then,’ said Mother Ramsay, gravely. ‘Beware how you use her.’ Then, ‘ Lot them pass,’ was her command, while the crowd sullenly parted, and they rode into the gulf again and climbed the upward path together. ‘ Lippincott’s Magazine.