A TALK OF OLD AUCKLAND.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 234, 24 December 1887, Page 5

A TALK OF OLD AUCKLAND.

By Mistletoe.

4 \J?UsJt~# VERY one in Auckland knows tyjffiygSllffi the old windmill between the /SRlpi|ra& City road and Symonds-sbreet, fo^|y|gu surrounded by pretty villas with T/SrX^ their trim gardens, from whence $f<6&L comes the odour of the modest (Sy violet, and the sweet-scented mignonette ; but not many now remember it, as it was forty years ago this Christmas, when wooden shanties, conspicuous by the absence of paint, few and far between, raised their diminished heads, while close by was Lawry's brickyard with its muddy •w aterholes, and banks of white clay puddle. Symonds-street was then little better than .1 track, {linked at either side by graves and wooden tombstones, where those who were taking their last rest were not then disturbed by the whirr of tramcars, the rumble of carriages, or the shouts of the Star boys gelling the evening paper. It was Christmas Eve, in the year of grace 1847, and in a wooden building near where the Caledonia Hotel now stands. A happy party had assembled, who had only a year before landed in New Zealand to seek their

fortunes in the sunny clime of Auckland. Nikau leaves graced the wooden walls, while branches of the pohutukawa with their glowing berries took the place of the : mistletoe, in hononr of Old Fatheij Christmas, ffhe party consisted of Mr .Lawrence Green, <an old, Irish gentleman from, the county *ITipperary, . whose f a -v iew halloa " •would be sorely missed by lovers of the hunting field from the " Town o' Clo'mel to the Rock of Cashel;" his wife, Mary, once a Dublin belle and beaut}'; twostalwartyouths, George and Charley, his sons ; his two daughters, Ellen and Hannah— the former ■who was at that moment seated in a rocking chair nursing a favourite cat, and the latter ona low stool patting an immense Newfoundland dog. The hazel eyes of the one and the brown eyes of the other beamed with fun and mischief, but showing at the same time a depth of feeling and deep womanly tenderness. AMr and Mrs Dangan, with their two boys Jim and Jack, and their little Girty, a bright little child of three years or thereabouts, completed the party. From the adjoining kitchen came an appetising odour of a supper prepared by ould Biddy McLaughlin, who, with her husband Mick, had came out to " look afther the masther, an' mistress, an' the pigs, an* the childor', God bless 'em ! " She was croning an old Irish ditty, occasionally interupted by a characteristic soliloquy, when anything went wrong "—" — " An' ould Oirelan' shall be free, Sez the Shan Van Vocht ; An' O'Connell will be *• An' is wishin' ye bad manners I am for j a cat, for slmre there's Miss Ellen, the crathur, has used eight eaucers to-day to feed ye j an' the dickins a clane saucer I have, at all, at all, for the tay ! "An, O'Connell will be king fc>ez the Shan Van Vocht. An' thin " Musha, but my heart is broke entoirely wid Miss Hannah, who is always up to her thricks, the darlint ; for here's a plate of hot ashes she giv the dog jist now instead of its mate to make it sniff ; an' faith, an' troth its something else they ought to be thinkin' ay, for isn't Masther John comin' all the way back from Sydney to marry Miss Ellen the gairl, an' Miss Hannah is brakin' her heart, bekase her ould sweetheart is in the mild country, and not by her side here this night — on the other side of the wather." But leaving auld Biddy to her croning, and the party in the parlour enjoying themselves, let us tell of a little episode that was being enacted elsewhere. John Flynn who was engaged to Ellen, had gone to Sydney to fill a lucrative situation, and had determined to return to Auckland to claim his bride. He had also, from having posted several letters from Hannah to her sweetheart, learned his address, and had written to him,though they were quite strangers,to come out to Auckland, if possible, that Christmas, and meet him, but neither were to let the Green family know of their arrival until they both met, and then would surprise them by an unexpected visit. By a coincidence one arrived from home the day before Christmas Eve, and the other by the " William Denny" on the morning of the day our story opens. It happened that a fellow passenger of O'Connor's, to whom he had got very much attached on the voyage, had died just as the vessel was rounding the North Head, and he offered to make arrangements for his funeral j also offering the old sextQn of the Protestant cemetery to dig the grave, to which the old man gladly consented, as it would enable him to spend his Christmas Eve moire genially. O'Connor had a double object if* this— to perform the last offices for his deatf friend, and also enable him to' keep out of the sight of ' the Greens until the arrival of Fiynn, as he knew they would not be likely to see him at- work in, a graveyard. Flynn, on arrival, hunted up O'Connor, whom hd desited to, put .up at f Dav.y Sheehan's Tm-/ falgar Hotel, in Queen street, and, finding out where he was, bought a bottle of brandy for the u good of the house ;" and.after a little" e&rrcH found him acting as amateur grave-digger, a little w,ay down' thehil|' from the centre &ate, of the cemeWry. ' InV trodfccin£ htfnsejf, and itftet a, hearty shake" hands. ;theV sat- down' pn the u edge,'#f 'the^ gravlj.an'cl? exchanged ittilt < uart!6nfidences r |' and were %o "interested in'each'otli'enrcoriV versation, that when night fell the grave

it.-', was not finished. , They borrowed a lantern and another shovel from the eexton, in order that they might complete the job before morning. And -here we will leave them, and return to the Christmas party at the Greens. We will suppose ' the supper over, the table' cleared "to make room for the "matharials," and all sitting in easy attitudes, laughing at the racy anecdotes of the genial host, and indulging in rcminiscenses of old times and past Christmases, and bright anticipations for the future. Hannah was helping old Biddy to clear away the supper" things, and Ellen was again in her rocking chair, humming to herself the plaintive air of " Eillen Aroon ;" and just as she got to the end of the line— ♦* 0 sad was the day when my love and I parted," In rushed Biddy, who had gone for the " hot wather," exclaiming — "Oh, Masther ! Oh, Misthross ! some one is murdhered up there, yondher, beyant." "Muidered!" all exclaimed, "Murdered !'* " Faix, the dickens the less. Don't you hear him, the unfortunate crathur," said the old woman. And sure enough a faint cooey was heard, but no one could tell the direction. "Cooy, coo — o — ey," wes heard again, but sill more faint. "By Jove, its a cooey !" .said George. "Someone has lost himself." " Nothing of the kind," eaid his father. "It strikes me its only the sentry at the barrack? singing out, ' All's well.' "

" Ifc Is ortiy soughin' of the wind through the jrah^kateas at the other side of the cemetery," e^id Charley. "Or Major J^reenvrood's donkey braying in Stanley-etireet," said Dangan. "Well, ''said Mrs Green, who was nothing if she wasn't practical, " why don't you go see, and not waste your- time -conjecturing: One of you boys get the lantern, and you father " She didn't finish her sentence, being interrupted by Biddy who having opened the front door, staggered in, and throwing herself in a chair, began stamping her feet on the floor, wringing her hands, and rocking herself to and fro. "Oh ! Ullagone ! Och, wirrasthrue ! It is a lone widow I am this night. Och ! Mick ! Mick ! May the heavens be his bed this Christmas Eve, the blagard." "What is the matter, Biddy?" said Hannah, who with the others had gathered round the grief-stricken woman. " Oh, Miss Hannah, allana ! that I should bavd lived to see this day ! There's my Mic£, kilt entoirely, lying up in the taytree, quite spachless, an' shoutin' out millla murdher at the tap ay his voice." 11 JDon't be silly, Biddy ;" said Mrs Green, " it ,is only someone that has lost himself coming up from town." " Faix, it is himself that's in it. Shure, didn't he go down to Somerville's corner wid a message from the masther, an' he's losthimself comin'home, an'gotmurdhered. Arrah, Mick ! Mick ! I'll niver see ye agio, an' to go an' be afther dyin' on Christmas Eve. Oh, why didn't ye wait till afther the 'New Year ; but, arrah, bad luck to ye, ye wur always conthrairy !" During this lamentation of Biddy's the whole party turned out, not even excepting the old lady, and the rest of the womenfolk. The night was dark and heavy clouds obscured the stars, there being no moon. So feeling their way through the ti-tree they proceeded up Symonds-street, guided by the sound of groaning as of one in pain ; and after a little trouble they came upon Mick lying prostrate, and by the light of the lantern could see great beads ot perspiration rolling down his face, and his eyes staring evidently in terror. 4 ',Mick, Mick," aaid Mr Green, shaking him, " rouse yourself, and tell us what is theinatter." "It's the spir — , its the spirits," said Mick trembling with fear. •^Didn't I know it," said Biddy, who had joined the party. "It's the spirits shure enough. YeVe bin lookin' at somebody dhrinkin', ye spalpeen. Bat, aisy, mayourneen; jist shpake up an' tell yer own Biddy. Yearn'tdeadallout." ' "[Hold your tongue, Biddy," said her master; "he's only frightened. Compose yourself, Mick, and say what has alarmed youl" "Jit's the spirits— the ghosts -in the cemetery." "iGhosts in the cemetery! Nonsense, man ; it's all imagination." "'There ! there !" exclaimed Biddy. " Stare it's thrue for , him. I hear something moighty quare." , "Ob, father,'' said Ellen, " I can 'hear hollow groans in unearthly cadence. There is Something uncanny on foot. Let us rouse up Mick, and hasten home." , , "Not until we have a look anyway,'' said Chajrley. , "Come on, George; come on, Father. You, mother* and, the girls, .t^ke Mick homo with y t 6u, and— — " "jTake jn,e home, is it," said Kick,, suddenly, .his, joour'age' reviving, when he found he was apppg friends. "Not , if I know it D'ye think J'd jdejsai^ ,the maather. Go' on , firit' ivery riiotfyer's 's,on oy ye, Kn' I'll precede ye." ' ' ' r ; 1 Tiey apcordingly moved jup; the.' ro&d. t arid with steal^hy r{ steps, went a little way; into' the^ cemetery/ and p]ainly jbeai-cl vqices '^mcjng the, gr^vesJ,/They/w;ese;c.ertainly ) notlhjam^n .yQi^.jfor^tW fadj-th^ sepul^ ; cllt4l soun4#|o)> ogulflfflrty "W? Q &Wh> 'troubled spirits wlio 6ouldi/t rest.'in, ttief^ grajes. In the .direction,^ the, voicgs %yj | saw a halo of :-lfgbt jsiping d .on^the ( <tyei> i hanging. foliage, and fear^ ancla sinking feelingm their hearts,, >hijh they couldn't analy^e^.tjiajb it ilchral And unearthly«-a weird-lookirig 'm c thaV^a's dai/sedflSy.no e&rthly^eatig^ 'They's^aa^sPckrViie^affdWahYae^r [ were holding high jinks over a disembodied

spirit, peached their ears, and caused them to turn tail, and run. , , . "Run, ye sowls," said Mick, setting the example, " Shure it's sortie sowl and body quarfelin' over the Repale ov the Union." They did run as tliey never ran before, and overtaking the women, they made the beat of their way to the cottage. After consultation they resolved to rouse the neighbours, the neai'est being at Dinnin's store in Barrack-street, and hastened to the police barracks in Wyndham street ; one or two, in their haste, falling into the Ligar Canal on their way. They called at Father Walter's, but as they were Protestant ghosts, and being out of his department,'he refused to have anything to do with them. Macready, the watchmaker, in Queen street, who was up to the time of day ; Reardon, the tobacconist, Avho would see that the efforts of the ghost would end in smoke ; several hotel-keepers, who, from the nature of their business, were supposed to know something about spirits ; the police, and many others, swelled the ranks of the alarmists. Having seized the first weapon that came to hand (one man being found to have a hen under his arm, under some confused impression that it would lay the ghosts), they hastened to the cemetery. There they caw the unholy light still shining. But all was still. There was no sound— nothing— to break the stillness save the cry of the lonely mopoke in the native bush on the Graf ton Road. Cautiously, with bated breath, they approached the light, when an unearthly fiendish yell reached their ears, and yet another, more demoniacal than the first, accompanied by the sadden extinguishing of the light. With one accord they turned tail, and ran as if old Nick was in chase and had oideied his myrmidons to take the hindmost ; nor did they consider them- ' selves safe until they reached Fort Brito- ! mart. I When the morning broke their courage revived. They acain proceeded to the scene of the last night's wondeis, and found— a newly made grave, and two young men sleeping peacefully at the bottom of it, -amid the debris of a broken bottle and a si flashed lantern. It is needless toexplain that the unearthly li ;ht and the sepulchral voices were both dle to the lantern in the iirst place, and tl:e young men in the second, being both at tLe bottom of the grave. »As our space is limited we must leave it t<| the imagination of the reader the chaffings that were given the frightened individualß of the night's adventure, and the hnppy reunion of the lovers. All was joy, { piace, and gladness, and the merry chimes from Parneff found an echo in every heart, proclaiming, as they did, "Peace on earth, and goodwill to men."