PART III.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 30, 29 December 1883, Page 5

PART 111.

"IT IS NOTHING BUT TIIE * BOEY '.STRALY '! " The day before Christmas in a colonial town is frequently marked by a blazing sky, by whit© roads, and etreefce dazzling in the glare, water-carts passing on their dripping way, drays and carts laden with greenery passing along. From all sides people and animals are travelling towards

the town from early dawn. The hotels are rife with humanity of the most mixed and doubtful description. To-morrow and next day they will be comparatively deserted. To-morrow hotels will be closed, the better part of the population will be in the churches, a large proportion attending Nature's purest shrines, in green forest and mossy dell ; or from the rivers gazing upwards at a clear sky, seen through evergreen tracery. On the following day the stream of human beings will turn towards the Racecourse. Boxing Day will see the hotels in town deserted until the evening. Yes, the day before Christmas is the da\' to witness a crowded town, where the people are assembling for good or ill. Among the stream of horses, carts, and drays travelling citywards, there was one bullock cart at early dawn that Christmas Eve wending its slow way from, not into, the town. Passing the conveyances laden with green ferns and tree 3, the driver of this dray shouted a "Good morning" and a " Merry Christinas " heartily. He seemed a well-known character, and drivers of the incoming carts several times threw him a branch of green karaka or a bunch of scarlet rata, the Christinas flower of the New Zealander, wherewith to deck his dray. These he passed to a yuung woman seated therein, with a child in her arms. She was young, pretty, and gay. She twined the rata in her hat, decorated the baby with it, and stuck it in the old wideawake of her conductor. Laughing merrily, and talking to the baby, which she held up in her arms, bidding it notice the nodding green plumes and prancing horses, she passed along the roads. The baby was too young to notice much, but was a fine, strapping child of its age. It blinked its eyes in the sun, and kicked in its mother's arms until she quieted it to sleep. The driver, the woman, and the child seemed a happy family party going to spend Christmas with some country friends. It was not so, however. The woman was Nancy, the wilful wife of Jock, the shepherd ; the child was his, although he knew it not, and the driver and dray were in the employ of Messrs Allen, the owners of the Hullabaloo Station, and the employers of the trustworthy and bteadj Scotchman Jock. Nancy had chanced to find the dray in town, and taking the opportunity, was now on her way to the home she had entered as a bride a year before. Her own home was far away. She had travelled to town by coach, and horse, and drxy. Arrived there, she was fortunate in meeting with no long delay, but was enabled immediately to proceed by the conveyance owned by her husband's employers, the driver of which was well-known to her. She was in the highest possible spirits. It was her nature to be so. No fears of her reception daunted her. She laughed and sang, played with the child, and chatted with the driver, asking all the news since she left, as though her conduct had been irreproachable. When midday arrived she chose the prettiest spot to rest, brought out the lunch she had provided, and insisted on sharing it with the drayman. There were mince pies, cake, sandwiches, and hardboiled eggs. John McGilpin had not enjoyed a meal so much for many a day. Mrs Jock helped him to unyoke the bullocks, which she insisted should have an hour of freedom. When that time had expired she helped him to yoke up again. She gathered fresh greenery to decorate the bullocks and the dray, and arranged an enormous bouquet of scarlet rata gathered from the bush, as a Christmas gift for Jock. Before the day was half over she had confided fully in John McGilpin. She told how she was more than afraid he had not been a good wife to Shepherd Jock, but was resolved to do better now. She had learned better since she had had a baby. Miss Flora had talked to her about it and told her to go back again, bring her baby, and ask Jock to forgive her. John McGilpin didn't know Miss Flora. She was the sweetest, kindest, darlingest young lady in all this world ; she had Tier own troubles too. Nancy was afraid Jock would never forgive her and take her back again. Never mind, if he was obstinate, John McGilpin must take her right back to town without delay. It wouldn't be her fault, anyway. She would have done her best to make it up. As afternoon went on, the country became more and more wild and uncultured. The dray moved onward slowly, making a gay spot in the landscape with its green and scai'let decorations. They moved alongsteep hill sides, where the dray sometimes seemed almost tipping over on the slanting road, and Nancy screamed and begged to be allowed to walk. They dragged on through a dense forest by a road so broken that the rough conveyance jolted terribly, and awoke the infant from its slumbers. Evening found them rising gradually to the sloping downs, over which j a portion of the Hullabaloo Station extended. The night air grew slightly chilly, and Nancy wrapped herself and the child in shawls she had provided. She was more silent and thoughtful as the hour advanced, ever rehearsing in her thought the coming interview with her husband. Presently, as they travelled slowly along the rising ground, they saw a gorgeous spectacle. Lights shot up into the sky, fell, and mingled in a glorious pageantry. Crossing, shooting, dancing, falling, golden darts played upon the southern horizon. It was the Aurora Australia. It filled Nancy with no terror, for she. had seen such a display before ; but she loved it as she looked, for it seemed to her a welcome home. Never had so glorious a panorama dawned upon her sight. The last aurora she had witnessed was poor in comparison. The lights gleamed all around them as they travelled on, and fell upon the countenance of the sleeping babe. The very heavens seemed on fire. In such a gleaming, shining, and brightening, they reached the shepherd's home. It was dark, silent, empty, deserted. Nancy'? spirits were quenched for the moment, but they soon rose again. She bade the drayman set her down, and opened the unlocked door. It took her a very short time to find lights, to set a fire going, and boil a kettle. She flew round rapidly setting things to rights. Then she found a tub, gave her baby a warm bath, and spreading out a rug she had with her, she laid the steaming infant upon it, while she bustled round. This was what the baby liked. It cooed and glowed, stretching its pink toes and tiny hands to the warmth of the fire. The cottage was warm and lighted. Fire-light streamed from the windows and doors, the kettle sang, the baby crowed, and Mrs Jock kept up her spirits with a song. Shepherd Jock came up to the door. What he saw we know. Fresh from the vision he had seen, dazed with the ununwonted light, bewildered, stunned, he I made his way into the room, and beheld — his wilful wife ! | fNancy flew to him and fell upon his neck and wept. There were explanations, scarcely questions, for Jock could find breath to ask none. All he could contrive to say was "Bless me, Nancy lass, I've seen a vision. The angel of the Lord ! himself cam© to me this night in flaming fire. I heard the words as plain as I see ye now, singin', singtfn', ' Unto us a child is born,' andthere it is, the Lord help roe." • « What did ye see, Jock ?"

"I see the heavens opened and the golden gates all Avide, and the Lord himsel' shinin' and singin' and showin' all the glory to the Shepherd Jock !" Nancy burst into a roar of laughter. " Bless ye, Jock, you're dreamin', nothing but dreamin'. It was the 'Kory 'Stialy, Nothing more. Did'nt ye never see it before, Jock, my man ? SVhy, when I was housemaid down to the Reinga, "we saw a beautiful one. Mary McCallum, she was so frightened she ran and put on her Sunday clothes, thinkin' it was the Judgment Day, and she'd meet the Lord in her best. But it weren't, and finely she got laughed at for lier pains. " Blest If 1 don't think your just as silly, Shepherd, Jock." " Say what you please, Nancy, say what you please. It's my belief that the Lord sent ye. I heard the words I tell ye ; I heard the words as plain as I hear ye now : ' Unto us a child is born ! Unto us a child is born ! ' Singing out of the glory. And there it is ; all just as the Lord Himself informed me." Nancy and Jock lived happy over after. He forgave her freely for her faults and flight, and received her to his home again, being fully convinced that the Lord had sent her. She had learned steadiness and domesticity ; ho had learned patience and consideration. They became a happy couple, and lived to a green old age. She was always convinced that she owed her prompt forgiveness and welcome to the "Rory 'Straly," and the recurrence of the phenomenon was ever a festival in the family of the " Shepherd Jock." Our story would not be complote without the record of a scene which took place elsewhere on that very Christmas Eve. Alice Fitzroy had been strolling late in the garden, watching the flashing lights of the aurora. Her heart was heavy, for in the midst of the Christmas cheer within, her own desolation seemed more marked. She could hear the dashing of the surf upon the shore. The sound seemed the only link between herself and her young husband, and she listened wearily to the recurrent roar. The balconies above and beyond were filled with gaily-dressed, light-hearted revellers, come out to watch the unutual display in the heavens. She could hear gay voices and light laughter streaming across the garden, above the washing of the- tide. Her young sisters were there with their lovers, and her o\\ n lot seemed lonelier by contrast. Presently the garden gate swung open. A figure advanced towards her. A brilliant flash of light revealed the face. A wellknown voice made conviction certainty. A moment more and Alice was in her husband's arms. He had come, true to his word, ere Christmas Day. The flashing lights and golden darts had brought him. He had fome in splendour. Hope shone all around. His prospects were now secure. All uncertainty was over. He was already Captain Fitzroy, as he soon whispered to his wife, and proved by documents in his pockets. All had ended in joy, and we may be sure that Alice, after all, spent a happy Christmas Eve. May our readers pass as happy a Christ mas Day and New Year as all the characters in this brief story, which is not without its basis of truth.