Sketches.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1109, 29 July 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

Sketches.

A DRIVE IN THE DARK. BY FRANK MORLEY. If Mrs. Simpkins had one supreme belief it was in the general capacity of her spouse, but more particularly in his almost instinctive knowledge of locality. Her profound and child-like faith has recently received a severe shock.

Walter Simpkins, Esquire, “ justice of the peace and coram,” as master Slender would say, “ and custalorum,” is a good all round citizen. He is emphatically a public man, (not in the way of dispensing liquors, but), as stated above, he is a J.P., a member of the Shire Council, a deacon of the kirk, trustee for innumerable public and semi-public bodies; president of the Young Men’s Christian Association, secretary of the local debating society, treasurer of the mechanics institute and public library in the township of Slocum, principal spokesman of deputations, and then, last of all, he is a civil engineer and architect.

. “ My dear,” said Mr. Simpkins to his wife, “ I have just got a letter from your Papa. He wants me to go out to Polygoly to-morrow to take the levels of some work connected with the sheepwash. By the way, what a funny name to give to his station, ‘ Polygoly.’ I have heard of Polyhmnia and Polyphonta —both very charming girls—and of Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclopean monster, who devoured the companions of Ulysses; also of ‘Polly put the kettle on,’ and Polyanthus, and Polygamy—a most charming institution—and of Polyandry which is not so nice ; but I never heard of Polygoly before.” “ I think I have heard you make somewhat similar remarks, though, before, my dear,” said Mrs. Simpkins mildly, and I know Papa does not like them. The name is a very good name ; besides Papa is sometimes rather irascible and you shouldn’t do it.” “Irascible! my love. He is a very Hotspur ; it is a word and a blow with him; irascible is no name for it. He must have been born under the influence of some fiery planet. The lord of his geniture was Mars ; and the God of War, in his most furious mood, would be tame beside the old gentleman if we are not out there to-morrow* in time for tea; so be sure to be ready by two o’clock to-morrow afternoon and we’ll drive out. To-morrow came, and Mrs. Simpkins was ready at the appointed time; but not so Mr. Simpkins. First of all, he had to attend a meeting of the Slocum Railway League, which had just wofce up to the enormity of the injustice about to be perpetrated by the Government, in the attempt to palm off upon Slocum a fourth-class railway station. No sooner had he despatched this business than Mr. Simpkins had to step into the office of Mr. Jollyboy, to sign some important document as trustee- for the cemetery. When he left Mr. Jollyboy’s office, he was seized by an enthusiastic individual, who held him by the button for an hour while he expatiated upon the merits of some extraordinary conglomerate which he called “freestone.” Mr. Simpkins only tore himself away with three lumps oj conglomerate in his coat-tail pocket, after promising to form a deputation to force upon an enlightened country this extraordinary rock as the mpst suitable building. mreresnng kind, Mr. bimpkins at last got his horses in the buggy, and prepared for a start. By this time it was five ti’clock instead of two, and Polygoly was exactly thirty miles from Slocum.

“Never mind, my dear,” said Mr. Simpkins to his wife; it will be dark when we are about half way; but I know every turn of the road, and we’ll arrive about nine o’clock, and surprise the old people.” Thq weather for the last three months had been extremely dry. Prayers had been offered up for rainfrom all the pulpits, and lengthy discussionshad taken place in the daily papers as to the efficacy of such prayers. Whether the rain came as the result of prayer, or in obedience to certain great natural laws, is immaterial to our story; but it certainly came when Mr. and Mrs. Simpkins had got about half-way on their journey. It poured down in torrents; and Mrs. Simpkins, having disposed her umbrella so that the point of one of the ribs stuck into Mr. Simpkins’ left eye, the water pouring in a miniature cascade down the back of his neck, told him quietly, but firmly, that it was his own fault for not starting at the proper time. “ I know we shall be bushed, Walter—l am certain of it. You will never find your way through the paddocks in such a night as this. Why, we can’t see the horses, although they are white.” “Nonsense, my dear, I could go the road blindfold; besides, it isn’t so very dark. Do you see that white streak'there?” “Where?” * “ Why, there, of course. I can see it as plain as a pikestaff, although you have blinded my best eye with your beastly umbrella. There, don’t you see it? That’s Dobbin’s tail.” “ You’r Dobbin’s tail. That’s a streak of white paint that Johnny spilt on the dashboard this morning; and, as for my umbrella, it is no more beastly than that old whip which you keep slashing into my face every minute. There now! You can’t drive a bit, Mr. Simpkins; and I don’t believe you know where you are.” “ Oh! I don’t, don’t I ? I don’t know where I am; and I don’t know my horse’s tail from a streak of white paint, oh, no ! And I don’t know that there ought to be a gate about here, and that there is a plantation about half a mile further on. Hullo! What’s up? The horses have stopped. It’s all right, my dear; don’t be alarmed. Just hold the reins a minute while I get down and see what’s the matter. Ah! yes, just as I thought. We are stopped by a fence. This is the plantation I told you about. We have come rather too far. The gate is about half a mile further back. Now, my dear, we’ll drive back; and if you’ll try and keep your umbrella out of the back of my neck, it will be much more comfortable.” “ Comfortable ! Mr. Simpkins. You have no feeling. But it’s always the way with you men.” “Feeling! Oh, yes, I have, my dear; I have plenty of feeling. I feel an extremely cold sensation down my spine at present; and I feel that my left eye is undergoing a slow, but sure, process of extinction.” “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Walter, joking at such a time as this. I’m sure I shall get my death of cold. But I suppose that’s what you want. I don’t suppose you care. You will soon get a step-mother for my poor children.” “ Come, come, my dear, don’t be absurd. I think we ought to be near the gate now. The gate is half a mile from the plantation. I have counted the .horses steps; they step exactly thirty-three inches and three-quarters; there are 1760 yards in a mile. Yes, the gate ought to be right there.” Mr. Simpkins got down to feel for the gate while his wife held the horses. The rain was all this time pouring down in torrents. “ Walter I” “ Yes, my dear.” “ Walter 1” “ Hallo!” “ Why don’t you speak, Walter? where are you ?” “ Here!” (at the top of his voice). “ I can’t hear you, Walter.” Mr. Simpkins came back and got into the buggy. “ It is a very extraordinary thing, Mrs. Simpkins, that I could hear every word you said, and you could not hear me, although I yelled at the top of my voice. But it is all the fault of that umbrella of yours; and if we have to camp out to-night don’t blame me, but lay the catastrophe at the door of that most diabolical and murderous contrivance.” “ You are very unkind, Walter, and I know you want me to get my death of cold.” “ Nothing of the sort, my dear, quite the contrary; but you can’t expect to hear me when the rain is making a noise like ten thousand waterfalls on your umbrella.” “ Did you find the gate?” “ No. The fact is you made a slight mistake.”