JONAS LEE. (From the Overland Monthly.)

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 199, 16 April 1887, Page 8

JONAS LEE. (From the Overland Monthly.)

ON AS LEE was a man whose life was marked out, bo you could see just how it would run, to the time, when the church-bell would toll the knell of his death, and the honest villager s shako their heads, and sigh to think that " old Jonas Lee l> was gone. Not that lie ■was much beloved by the people, for he mingled bub little with them, and held rather aloof from all friendship, even with his neighbours. Cut lie was a landmark of a former age, and as such was praised by the old, and respected, with an awed and reverential respect, by the young. His life was a remnant ; an odd piece of a life. In his youth he had loved tho village belle. Himself of humbler birth, he was considered lucky to win her attention ; and on her jilting him, as all believed she had done, the villagers shook their heads, and called her hard names, and unhesitatingly gave Jonas their sympathy. In truth, she was not to blame. The old story- misunderstanding, the fault of neither party, coldness, grief ; the course of true love, for true love it wa?, never did run smooth, and the course of their love came to a sudden end in that pleasant autumn of their first year's courts-hip ; and Jonas believed he had been jilted, and Mary thought she had been neglected, and so ihey covered their sorrow in a quiet and unostentatious way, and all was at an end between them. Not long after Mary was married. It was her parents' doing, -and she acquiesced, though her love could never be given to her husband, lie was a well to do Quaker, an honest man enough, but one who thought more of his business and his religion than of his wife. Jonas accused himself bitterly for his folly in believing that that heartless creature, Mary, ever loved him, and boon after he left the country. For years he was never heard of in his native village. At last he came back. But few were left w ho know him. The/ were men of middle-age, or even greybeards, but had known him last in early manhood. It occasioned a great stir in the quiet and uneventful course of things in the village, and many wide rumours respecting Jonas's adventures and fortunes were circulated. It was confidently reported he had sailed round the world six times during his absence, and wa^ now the lichest man in the country. With this in view, sundry widows and elderly spinsters were observed to set their caps for him. But Jonas was proof against their blandishments, and was soon seen to be a different person from the pleasant, gay young fellow he had once been. To say truth, he had never ceased to long for Mary and think of her, with the trne pertinacity of an unsuccessful lover. He made inquiries about her, but she had left the town long since, and none knew whether she were living or dead. So Jonas resigned himself to his fate, and set up his household goods in the little stone cottage he had been born in, so many years before. His sole household was an old servant, who attended to hi-> needs and kept his tiny bouse in order, and his dog, now old and travel worn like hi? master. As to JonasS true financial position, he had gathered together a mode-t sum : enough to keep his old age from want. JPov this lie was looking about for an investment. One day there came to the village an insurance agent. Life insurance was a novelty then, and the staid village folk w eie slo-w to put their trust in the glib-spoken agent. Jonas, however, had a reputation in the village for boundlo°s wealth, and to him the agent came. He spoke hitmost eloquent praise of the novelty ; he set forth in the most glowing terms the advantages accruing from the system ; lie explained with the tnosb lucid earnestness the details of its working, and showed Jona3 a sheet which purported to give the average expectation of life at diffeient ages. Jonas heard him in silence. At the end he said he'd think about it, and the insurance agent departed with a calm conviction of an early success. He even boasted that ho had made a convert of Jona^, and on the strength of tho claim made other conquest?, "which were gratifying, but not permanently beneficial, for they did not happen to bring any money to his purse. The next day he argued long with Jonas and repeated his explanations, adducing I many enthusiastic testimonials as to the splendid character of the system, the probity of his firm, and the astonishing results oi a policy taken in the company. Jonas heard all this, and remained to all outward appearances undecided. But the agent counted himself one victory in that Jonas asked to be allowed to have the paper which get forth the table of average expectation of lifo. He kept it one night, and in that time matured a brilliant scheme of annuity, of homemake, as it were ; he determined to so allot his fortune as to last him for the time set down as the probable length of life for a person of his age. Thus resolved, he met the agent next morning with the remark that "He guessed he wouldn't invest." -The agent was dumbfounded ; he had ■counted on an ea<»y victim, and it was ■"•^galling to have to give in after his boasts. ,He hung about the village for some days, continually plying Jonas with now arguments, until his bill at the inn grew so large that he was forced to take his departure, leaving Jonas master of the field. Not long after this, the notary received a Call from Jonas, who wanted an investment. He stipulated for something safo, and mentioned five per cent, as his minimum. The notary knew but little of business and had some difficulty in satisfying his new client ; but finally all was arranged. , Jonas got his investment and his five per cent,, and settled down in relief at finding himself so well fixed. He was often seen to study a paper which he carried about with him, and whose purport the gossips of the neighbourhood were at much pains to guess. But in vain : Jonas was yvery reticent on all matters, and on this especially, so the popular curiosity was baffled for years. The fact is that there was no great mysfery #bout it, lor i£ was but a mathematical

calculation upon the basis of Jonas's fortune and sliowed what sum per annum would I exhaust his means in a stated number of ' years. There was a small surplus, which was marked "For funeral expenses." In short, the whole thing was the scheme of an annuity, minus the commission charged by the banking companies, but with one grave defect ; it in no wise provided for a longer, term of life than that set down. So there was but a sorry outlook for Jonas should he prove long-lived. Of this, however, he never thought-, and he proceeded to settle himself for a life of quiet ease, regardless of the village and its interests, and gradually building about himself the barrier of a reserve, which came from his sorrow, which was impregnable to all but a few, and which effectually protected his life from all disturbing influences. For years his trim and stately figure was familiar to the village folk. Attired in buff knee-breeches, with brown stockings, and with great silver buckles on his shoes, his coat of military blue, with brass buttons, a bell-crowned white hat surmounting his person, and the M'hole set off by a goldheaded staff, he was the exponent of fashions long obsolete, and became a more and more eccentric figure as the years rolled on. His habits were as preciso and as punctual as the ticking of his old hall clock. He rose at live and took an early walk, no matter what the weather. At seven he breakfasted, and spent the morning in his house seated by the fireside, or if it were pleasant weather, in his garden, often turning his hand to the care ot the old-fashioned flowers which grew so luxuriantly for the old man. *In the afternoon he went to the village inn, to read the papers and drink his ale. Here certain old fellows, who were his most intimate companions in youth, were admitted to his conversation and friendship. A rare sight it must have been to see them over their ale, often mellowed by liquor, but restrained by the *obriety of Jonas who rarely drank deep, and by a cortain awe of him, which they shared with the whole village. Jonas used to seek his cottage at dusk, and after tea his time was spent in ruminations by the fire, occasionally varied by the perusal of sundry old volumes, which formed his sole libiary. At ten precisely he retired, but not until he had brewed and drank a glass of whisky punch. Of these same punches strange stories were told. The favoured few who from time to time were admitted to participation in them, averred that they transconded all known drinks, and with such consummate delicacy and skill concocted, as to fill the favoured taster with a mellowneeb superior to tho highest gratification over any other drink, and to be rivalled by no other sensation. Indeed, the state in which his guests came homo after these convivial bsuts was such as to warrant their story ; and the extieme eagerness with which they availed themselves of further invitation served to strengthen the belief in Jana&'s skill. Such for many years was Jonas's life. He was a solitary man, and seemed always to be in a serious, though not melancholy, frame of mind. As the expiration of his annuity approached, he evinced a gi cater energy, as though the piospect of his death, in which he never ceased to believe, was a pleasure to him. He unobtrusively made many preparations for it. After the events which lam about to chronicle, were past, it was reported that he bad purchased a coffin and had selected a site lor a grave. Certain it is that he in many wajs showed expectation of a change. He arranged for the sale of his cottage, and made presents to his few remaining friends of such articles of property as he could dispense with, without immediate inconvenience. All this time he continued to appear the same robust, vigorous man as before, and nothing beyond the whiteness of his locks denoted the approach of old age. Finally the end ot the year was upon him; his little fortune was all spent, save the poition set apait for funeral expenses, and a small sum which would suffice to discharge his bills for provisions and fuel during the last few months. He was rather surprised to observe no diminution of his physical powers, but even that failed to shake his belief in his approaching death In his own mind ho had Eettled that the end of the year was to be the end of his life, and he made preparations accordingly. On the last day of the year he solemnly invited two old friends of his to hia cottage that evening ; they were no whit less ea«er to come than usual, and eight o'clock saw them all three gathered in Jonaa's little best room. His guests were so old as to be almost childish, and their gentle simplicity formed a striking contrast to his sober and thoughtful demeanour. Never before did Jcnas brew such punch. Nover was sweeter sugar, hotter water, more highly flavoured lemons, or whisky of more delicate aroma and genial strength. Late into the night tho carouse was prolonged, while the old clock deliberately ticked away tho fast fleeting hours of the passing year. A little before midnight the party broke up, and Jonas stood in his doorway and watched his two guests stagger away homeward. Ho did not himself go to bed that night, but sat down in his great armchair before the lire. His lips gently formed the word " Mary," as he did so, and in his eyes was a far-oft look of longing, and of peace, too, as he fell asleep. The clock slowly struck twelve and the new year was born. The next morning was bright and beauti ful ; the church bells were ringing, for it \va3 the Sabbath, and the people were thronging to church with pleasant NewYear greetings. But the old high backed pew where Jonas had for so many yeais woi sliipped, was empty, and tlie villagers miesed his well-known voice, leading in the responses. Was he deid ? Had the new \ ear gently borne away hia life, and left a corpse in his old armchair before the embers of his fire? No, he was not dead, and no one was more surprised than himself when he woke and found himself so prosaically alive. He felt put out and vexed, as though he had been defrauded of his due. So strong was this feeling that he was really unable to go about his ordinary way of life, and sat in despondent thought before his fire. His dog came whining to him for breakfast, and he arose mechanically and fed him. About noon came the old woman who attended to his simple wants in the way of housekeeping. She was much surprised to find him not at church, and insisted that he was ill. So he was forced to drink some herb tea and go to bed. The afternoon and early evening were miberably spent. He ruminated over the peculiar and unaccountable circumstance of his being alive, and it was only after long thought that he was able to come to any satisfactory conclusion about it. He finally decided that there was some mistake about the day, and that he would certainly die that night. Still he was harassed by some doubt, and fell asleep with. an uneasy 'fear that another morning might dawn and firtd him alive. Only too real were the grounds for such fear. Tho next morning broke, and Jonas still lived. He was extremely troubled. What if he should go on, so persistently refuging to shuffle off that mortal-coil which, he so much desired to be freed of? Who would be ao« countable for the actions of a death,^o unpunctual and deceptive ? In such thoughts ho spent the whole of that miserable, day, and though he, futiy believed his ei»d was near, felt by no means so sure that it would come immediately. At the same time he

tacitly decided that it would be" deferred no' longer than a week. But the week rbllea by, no signs of that consummations so earnestly desired by him. At last his friends, alarmed bj such continued absei cc of Jonas from his haunts, came in a body to visit him. To all their inquiries, hdv/ever, be returned no unsatisfactory answer. He felt a natural' delicacy in broaching 1 the true subject of his anxiety, and so his friends went away unenlightened. All this time the nightly glass of punch had been missing, and Jonas ll liad not even provided the ingredients for it, considering it useless to spend money on them when his life was to end so soon. Now, however, he was forced to buy provisions, for his larder was getting low. This exhausted the little sum of money left him, and there was no margin besides the money set apart for funeral expenses. The next fortnight rolled by in due course, and Jonas yet lived. But his old friends knew him no more. He never left his little cotrage, and on Sundays even he did not go so far as to church. Again his friends came to see what kept him indoors. He then for the first time unfolded a little his thoughts. " You see, boys, I kind o' expected to die about this time, an' I don't exactly understand it. It's time, ye know—l've ben waitin' for it all this time, an' I expect it'll come soon." It was only to his two personal intimates that he made this explanation ; and to them even ho did not explain the use he had made of his fortune. They tried to encourage him, as they termed it, and assured him he was certain of twenty years more of life. But he shook his head and paid he knew. So the old fellows hobbled off, after vainly awaiting an invitation to partake of some punch, and Jonas was left to wait. The leaden days and weeks rolled by, and Jonas wondered at the delay. His funeral fund was broken, and as each little sum was taken, he mtntaliy curtailed some fraction of the ceremony. " I can't have so many horaes onto the hearse," he premised as he spent a small sum on flour. "That coffin o' rosewood '11 have to go," was the conclusion drawn from the purchase of a cord of firewood. The winter had softened into spring, and all Natuie was joyful in the voik of rejuve nation. Jonas's little garden was sadly in u ant of attention, but he bestowed none upon it. Where was the use of cultivating flowers and vegetables for a dead man ? So the mild lilacs bloomed in sweet profusion, regardless of bounds, and all the sweet children of the spring made merry havoc, unrestrained by the piuning knife or spade. The vegetable garden nourished a family of weeds, glorying over the unusual peace which attended their growth, and all betokened neglect and indiffeience. Within the cottage was a very serious state of affair?. Jonas had used up the last penny of his money andy/asd v/as almost out of provisions. He thought with a dim resentment of the strange and inexplicable conduct of death in so long delaying. He was saddened and hurt about it ; and to all his other cares the fear of starvation added its weight. It was indeed a sorry time for him, and his head hung low before the old fire place, as he sat in hie arm-chair, thinking upon his fallen fortunes. One day there came a crisis. All food was gon« : not a scrap of meat or crust of bread in the larder. There was nothing to be done. Jonas looked at his little cottage and the thought of selling it or a part of the simple furniture, entered for a moment his brain. But he instantly resolved that, however low he should be brought, he would ne>er sell from over his head the roof that had sheltered him so long, nor any part of those household possessions that had been familiar to him from childhood. Better to leave the place and go to hide his shame far from the people who had known and respected him lor so long a time. And iudeed this idea took more and more possession of him at he sat* in his garden that May morning idly listening to the hum of bees and the song of nesting birds, and sorrowful thoughts went trooping through his brain. Without more ado he arose and went into his cottage and took one last look around. There were tears in his eyes as he came out again, and his face was pale, but resolute, as he stepped out into the road. One last look back at that dear old garden and its wealth of beauty and fragrance; and he turned away his brimming eyes and saw no moie Yet ho>v long the picture remained on his view. Thtough the whole of that weary day he saw with the eye of fancy the quaint, homely cot of grey-weather-beaten etone ; the little diamond-paned windows giving a welcome to the wayfarer; the bees humming about the eaves, and the garden looking so iresh and charming in the spiing morning. Jonas -was meanwhile slowly plodding along the lanet=, regardless of all about him and grieving bitterly at being obliged in his old ago to forsake the homo of his parents, and take to his heels like any common vagrant. Had you seen him that I morning, you would have been impressed by his appearance. A meek and gentle looking old man, who seemed mutely to lament with his eyes the sad lot that attended him. Ever and anon, he stooped to brush the dust from his shoec>, and endeavour to preserve his clothing from soil. But it was a fruitless task, and he only became the more tired and heated. At last night came on. Gradually the sun t-ank behind the western hills ; the birds stopped their warbling, and the ceaseless hum of insect? was the only sound. Jonas lay down by the roadside and tried to sleep. A moun.ful prayer wavered from his lips, and coon he slumbered. The hpurg of the night slowly crept away, and at last the sun began to send before him indications of the dawn. Then Junas awoke. His joints were stiff from the unwonted exposure, and he was faint from hunger, for since the noon of two days before no food had passed, his lips. He tried to go on, but after a few hours his tired limbs refused to perform their office. He was loth to present his infirmity to the world, so he went from the road into a piece of woods near by and feebly reclined on the springy turf. Soon he fell asleep, and the sun continued on his course. Once more evening came on. At last Jonas awoke, and reached the conviction that he must get to some village and beg something to eat. Presently a turn in the road disclosed a little collection of houses, nestled cosily in a grove of fruit trees, all in full bloom, and tilling the air with the sweet fragrance of their pink and white flowers. But each house was peopled by a family ; apd laughing children looked but with wonder at the tired looking old man who hobbled so painfully by. So he' was reluctant to aafc charity, and parsed slowly through the little village, by the church and its quaint, simplegraveyard. , And hethojught as he , looked at the mounds of turf that were sprinkled so plentifully, and. at the white headstones, that but for a great neglect he should be now lying under the sod, at peace in the quiet, of the spring evening. So he slowly went on. r • Presently he Beemed to have passed through the tillage and to have dome 1 once more to the open country, when he saw a little cottage, almost- hidden under the ivy that climbed ovec its.&rey walls, and behind thick lilac bushes and blossoming appjo an 4 "cherry' trees. In front waft-la little garden, which nemimied Jonas of hist own, now so far away. In the garden was an old woman who wag bending over some

early roses. She was a hospitable looking person* only a, part of her face was visible, ana at sight of her Jonas felt a re-, currence , of his original motive. So he went in through' the little wicket gate, and came ana .stood .hear her. But speech failed him, so he Hung his head and waited, The old dame did not look up,, so gentle had been the sound of footsteps on the soft ground!. She still'bent over the rose-bush, apparently examining its leaves. She had a tender^ anxious look, in her face, and a certain peace/and dignity .attended her as though Sorrow had set his rnatk uponher. Still she did not look up, and Jonas felt himself growing faint and dizzy", yet could not summon up the courage to speak. At last slie turned and saw, though seemingly without surprise, the stranger by her side. As she looked at his features, a change came over her expression, a faint blush rose to her cheeks, and she exclaimed •* Jonas, is that you ?" But Jonas stared at her and passed his hand over his eyes, and looked again ; still he said not a word,, and she hastened to wards him, for he looked so weak and •weary. She led him gently, her eyes brimming with tearc, to the vine-bowered porch, and just as they reached it he sank down heavily, as though in a faint. When he came to himself he saw her tender eyes looking anxiously into his, and with a deep sieh of content he murmured " Mary !" For some time neither spoke, and she gently slipped away ; but reappeared wioh a smoking bowl of porridge and a cup of tea. These she set before Jonas, who proceeded to quickly devour them. But his face had a half-puzzled though peaceful expression, and happiness shone out of his eyes. "Dear heart !" she exclaimed, as she saw how welcome to him was the food " How thee must have been hungered !" When he had eaten, Jonas took her hand and they sat quietly in the gathering twilight, silent of words, but with joyful hearts. And as Jonas went to bed in the little spare chamber, he felt surprised to notice entire absence of that desire for death which had so accompanied him before. The next day he told her the story of bis for tune?, from the day of his first leaving the village in his youth, to the sad depar ture of a few days before. As he told her the loss of his possessions, Uer hand gently took his, and she said "Jonas, 1 have enough for thee and me." That evening something very stranga happened. As Jonas was about to retire, Mary entered the room and placed on the table a glass, some lemons, a bottle con taining whisky, some sugar, and a kettle of hot water. So the long-missed punch was once more brewed, and Jonas was happy. As he was finishing his glass he fell to thinking, and the result of his reflections was soon expressed. "1 think he was a lyin','' said he in a tone of profound conviction. "Who, dear?" questioned Mary. " That agent, " said Jonas, as he started for bed. The next morning Jonas was thoughful and pieoccupied. He seemed saddened by something, 'the truth was he felt his position as a dependent upon Mary's bounty, and she with a woman's perception noticed it. Nothing was said that day, but the sky seemed not so bright as belore, nor the blossoms so sweet, and Jonas went to bed with a troubled heart. I do not know how it came about, but the next morning at a little before noon you might have seen them sitting in the doorway, hand in hand, and a sweet, radiant happiness in their looks. The next day was the Sabbath, and the littlo knot of villagers were surprised to see Mary leading into her pew an old man, who smiled upon her joyfully, and had no eyes for aught besides. When the preacher, however, announced the marriage intentions of Mary Atherton, widow, and Jonas Lee, bachelor, their surprise knew no bounds. They staved at Mary, on whose withered cheek was a faint but beautiful blush, and they saw the stranger beaming upon her with the utmost joy of expression. So the good-natured village! s, less prying than as usual, minded their own business, and in a few weeks Jonas and Mary were man and wife. Far off in the village once their home, the cottage abandoned by Jonas on that eventful morning was still empty, and the garden grew in undisturbed luxuriance. But the owner was in a distant town, at peace and happy in a new-found home and in an old, but long lost lovo.