CHAPTER XXVIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 316, 14 November 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XXVIII.

(JEOWKJiY VISITS THE SCENE OF Tltli TRAGEDY. 'Where do j^ou intend to go from hove, Jack ?' Geoffrey asked ab length, breaking a silence of several minutes, during which both had been busy with various thoughts and emotions. 'To California, sir. I'm bound to have a last look at all the places I've ever been in, though it'll bo a sad day that lands me there. My poor girl and I saw many happy days on that little farm just out of San Francisco. I didn't own it, we only hired it, for we hadn't money enough then to pay for a home ; but I'd gladly give up every dollar I've earned since if I could only have my girl back again,' Jack concluded, with another heartbroken sob. His grief and remorse were painful to witness. His face wag almost convulsed, great drops came out upon his forehead, and he trembled with emotion. ' T believe I Avill go to California with you, Jack,' Geoffrey said, after a season of thought. 'I do nob believe it will be exactly tafe for you to go there by youiself to visit your old home: Suspicion might be aroused immediately, and you would be liable to get into trouble ; bub no one would think it at all strange if I should return to make inquiries regarding nay old nurse.' ~ 1 Wall, bub overybody knew we went off together,' said Jack. 'Very true; but if unpleasant questions were asked, I could explain that you escaped to Australia, while I was cared for by friends in Now York, all of which would be true,' Geoffrey responded.

' Thank ye, sir ; yore kinder to me than I deserve; but even if I knew they'd snap me up, I reckon I should go. I can never rest till I know where they've laid my girl,' Jack returned with a heavy sigh. 'You shall,' Geoffrey answered, ' we will find ont all there is to know ; but I particularly wish to learn if my father ever v : sited the place after we left. It. he did, he probably left some address so that information oould be found, in case any trace of us was discovered.' Jack appeared bo be very grateful to have his path thus smoothed for him, and the next morning the two men left the mining village, and proceeded directly to Sau Francisco. Before leaving, however, Geoffrey had cut several slips from the ivy that grew all about his mother's grave, and inclosing them wrapped in wet paper in a small tin box, nvuled them to Gladys. 'My darling/ he wrote, 'if you can coaxany ot tlie^e to live pi ay do so, tor my sake. 1 have a particular rea°on for making the request, which i will explain when I return,' and Gladys hud three of them nicely rooted betore she icburned to Brooklyn at the end of the season. Geolirej' and his companion reached the small town near which Jack Henley had once lived, and only a few milf-s from San Franci&co, about noon one wa m August day. They had their dinner, and reded for several hours, then when the day i:\o'/ cooler, GeollVey started out alone to visit Jack Henley's former home, and to try to discover the eriave ot his wife. Ho found the place without any difficult/, a small hou»e and barn standing in a lonely location, about (wo miles from the to<.> n, while there wcie only one or two other dwellings in sight. There was no sign of life about Lhc place, and the buildings were fast falling to decay. Weeds and vines and wild flowers grew all about the yard, and everything looked desolate and torlorn Geoffrey shivered as he stepped up to a window and looked into that small kitchen, and recalle 1 the dark deed which had been perpetrated there. He did not- believe the place had ever been inhabited since; it had a lok of having been shunned and perhaps regarded as a haunted iiouse. He wondered how Margery had been found and what measures had been taken to discover the author of the crime. lie did not remain there long ; )t was not an attractive .spot, and there were no means of learning what he wished to find out. He resolved to visit some of the neighbours, and try to ascertain wh.it had 1 sen done with Mrs Henley's body, and if (Japtain Dale had e\ er visited the place smce the tragedy occurred. The nearest neighbour was at least a quarter ot a mile away ; he could just discern the root and chimney ovei ihe rise of ground to the south. He mounted his hoi^c again and lode toward it, coming, ma tew minutes, to a large comfortable fui m-housc, whers peace and plenty appeared to reign. He found the farmer just riming up hi-, COWb iiom pasture. He wa* a man apparently sixty years of age, with a kind and genial face, quick and energetic in his movement? in spite of his three-score ve:irs. Geoflrey saluted him courteously, introduced himself, and allied if he could spate the time to answer a few questions. The man called a boy to attend to his cows, then imited Geoffrey to dismount and come with him to the w ide, pleasant verandah, where they could converpe at their leisure, assuring dim that he should be glad to <ji\e him any information he I might possess. Geodrey accepted his imitation, and then entered at once "upon the business that had brought him theic.^ 'I am in this locality chiefly to ascertain something of the people who once occupied that house o\er yonder,' he said, indicating Jack Henley's deseited dwelling, 'and thought my bofct way would be to apply to some one living in the neighbourhood.' The farmer's face fell a& this. Evidently the subject was not a pleasant one to him. ' You couldn't ha\ c come to a better place to find out what you want to know, sir,' he replied, 4 for I've lived here for the last thirty-five yearn, and I can tell you all about that sad story — at> least all that anybody hereabouts ever knew ; though it isn't a cheerful subject. ' '[am very toitunate then in having come to you,' Geoffrey said, in a tone ot satisfaction. Then glancing at his watch, he added, ' 1 find it is later than I thought, and as ] would like to get back to town before dark, J will ask you to i elate in your own way all that you know about the family, and I will restrain all questions until you get through.' 'Well, sir,' began the farmer, 'the Henleys came hcic nigh about twenty- bwo or three years ago, and we thought we were fortunate in having such thrifty neighbours, as they seemed to be. There were only three ot them, Jack and his wife, and a baby only a few months old, that fche woman had taken to nurse, ics mother being dead. E\cr> thing went along smoothly, and they appeared to be doing well for four or five' years, when Jack gob into bad company and began to drink. Before this he and his wife seemed to think a great deal of each other, and in bad weather he would help her about the house, while in good weather she would work with him out of doors. In this way he gained time to do many odd job^ outside, and made considerable money by so doing. ' After Henley got in with his companions, we now and then heard that things were nob very pleesant between him and his wife, bub no one ever dreamed how serious the trouble was until the terrible tragedy burst like a thunderbolt upon us My wife and Mrs Henley had been great friends fron? the first, and had got in the way of borrowing little messes from each other, as neighbours often do, when they came short and could nob get into town to buy what was wanted. So one afternoon my wife said she was out of tea, and w r ould run over to see Mrs Henley for a little while and borrow enough for supper. 'It didn't peem as if she'd gone long j enough to get. there, when she came flying back as pale as death, wringing her hands and seemhi£ half f lightened out of her senses. l rushed to the c.oor to meeb her, when s'je fell into my arms, in a dead faint. When she came to she was so unnerved by what she had seen that we had hard work to get the truth out of her, but we finally made out that upon reaching Henley's she had knocked at bhe door. No one answered, and she stepped in, as she had often done, when she saw Mrs Henley lying on the floor, a terrible bruiso and gash on her forehead. My wife was so frightened and shocked that she dropped her cup on the floor, where it broke into a dozen pieces, and then, with a scream, turned and ran as fast as her trembling limbs would carry her, toward home. I called my son and one of my men, and we started at once for the place. We found bhe woman lying as my wiie had described her, only instead of i being dead, as she thought, she was now rolling her head from side to side and moaning as if in great pain.' * Not dead!' interrupted Geoffrey, in a startled tone. ' No, &ir, praise the Lord ! not dead. We lifted her and laid her on her bed just off

the kitchen, when i sent my man for a doctor, and my son back home to bring his mother, while I got some water and bathed the poor woman's head. My wife was too sensible to nurse her own feelings when she found she was needed, and'that her friend was not dead, and she came immediately to do what she could for her. ' When the doctor came, he paid it was doubtful if the poor thing could live ; the blow on the head had been a fearful one, and it was a wonder that it had not killed her outright. Besides that, there wab the piint of three lingers on her throat, showing that there had beep a struggle with some one, and pointing to foul play. ' Of course when we found, that Henley had decamped, taking the boy with him, we suspected him of having done the deed, and the authorities were at once sel on his track. But nothing has ever been heard of him or the child from that day ?o this ; at le.'^st not to my knowledge. His wife had a tough time of il. We had her brought over here, and my wife and daughter took care of her thiough a three months' illnese, and when she did get up again she was bub the shadow of her former self.' ' Did she get well ?' Geoftrny exclaimed, amazed. 'Yes, she recovered her health, though h'te was not as strong as she had been, and her head was apt to trouble her at times. I>u<" her heart was broken over the disappearance of her husband and the boy. It wa-> a long time before we could make her toll how she had been injured, and then hlic excused Henley. Bhe said he had come hom-1 the wot se for liquor, and did not know what lie was about. She &aid he must have been flightened believing he had kilif d her, and then taken the boy and fled. 1 suspect there was something more to it, but that was all we could ever get out of her.' 'Ah !' thought Geoffrey, ' she .shielded him from the suspicion of having murdered me also, and she must have suffered torture on my account as well as his.' 'As soon as she w.s able to get about,' re&umed thefarmer, 'she insisted upon going away altogether from the place. She could not go back to her home and Jive there alone, she said, and she wanted to search ! ior her husband to let him know that he i had not killed her, as he must believe. I | imagined, too, that?) c couldn't bear to meet j the bo\ 's father when he should come again and find that he had disappeared. She told all lnr household goods, offered a re11,1 '. '>f a thousand dollars— ha\ ing deposited that amount in a bank in San Francisco for the purpose —to anyone who -hould tind her husband or secure any definite infoimation leg^rding him, and then she left the place herself. We have never seen her nor heard what became of her.' ' Did she leave no addiess?' Geoffrey inquired. 'If not, how could she expect to be commuideated with in ca»e any tidings of her husband wcie obtained ?' 'I believe a personal of some kind wa? to be inserted in ceitain papers in the leading citie.- of the c^untiy by those who had charge of the affair,' replied the farmer, v but I gueas it has never been printed. Then house hati never been occupied &>.nee. A good many people believed that Henley murdered the boy also, and concealed the body somewhere on the farm, so the place has had the leputation of being haunted, (he> chore we have never had any neighboms there.' ' Since Mrs Henley was not murdered, I an at liberty to ee^ your heart at rest upon that subject.' Geoffrey responded. v The hoy i=; alive and v, ell. /am thai boy.' The farmer started from his cl<air and stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment at this electrifying statement. fI cant believe it,'he said at last, and bending to look moie closely into his visitor's face, ' and yet you <*aid jour name wtis limitless.' 'Yes, my name is Geoffrey Dale Huntress,' Geoffrey replied, with a smiie at his ho&t'b astonishment. • That was the child's name, Geoffrey Dale —it must be true ; do tell me how you happen to come back here after all these year.3 ?' the farmer urged in an eager tone. Geoffrey felt that he was warranted in so doing, since Margery Henley had lived and there was no longer any ueed of concealment on Jack's part. 'Jack escaped all pursuit,' he said, ' wandering about from place to place, went to Texas on a sheep ranch for a few years, and finally turned up in New York, where I became separated from him and could not be found. Just about this time he became convinced that the officers weie on his track I —they must have been those who were working for Mrs Henley's thousand-dollar reward —and he was so frightened he suddenly shipped for Australia.' ' Poor fellow,' said the farmer, sympathetically, 'he must have suffered keenly. But this is the strangest part of the whole story. I ne\ er imagined that we should get the sequel to that tragedy over yonder. Was the man kind to you ? I vised to think he was not over fond of you when you were a little fellow.' ' No one could have been more kind than he was, as long as I was with him,' Geoffrey said, gravely, as he recalled all that Jack had so recently told him. Fie thought, too, as long as Margery had kept the secret of his having been nearly murdered also, -it would be best to still preserve silence upon that point. 'It was my own fault,' he continued, ' that I was lost, for I wandered away without his knowledge and he was not able to find me, although he laboured faithfully to do so. until driven by desperation by the belief that he was being tracked.' ' How did you learn that he had sailed for Australia, if you were lost before he went V ' I learned that later,' Geoffrey briefly replied. ' And what became of you ?' * A philanthropic gentleman became interested in me, adopted me, and has given me a good education.'

(To be Continued.)

SIIOKTHOKNS AT THE ROYAL SHOW. — After observing 1 that it is from English live-stock bx'eedevs that other countries must obtain the blood needful to establish and improve their flocks and herds, a writer in the Live Stock Journal goes on to say :—": — " The one thing needful is that we must always remember that nothing but the practical usefulness of our stock will enable us to hold our own, and it is in this view that the show of Shorthorns at Nottingham was so pre-eminently satisfactory. It must have done good to the heart of many a man to see the class of cows walking round the ring. They were large of frame, feminine in character and, as a whole, showed good milking capacity. In the younger cow and heifer classes there was high promise, and it must have been evident to all that more attention is being paid to points and qualities which count ac the more directly useful ones than has been common of late years. Nor can it be said that this has led to any carelessness in those characteristics which are mosb highly valued by breeders as evidence of purity of blood and fixity of type. The four daughters and granddaughters of Beau Benedict 42,769, which competed for the female championship, were worthy of the hierhesb praise from every point of view."

setting can be effectually canieil out. Separators, however, even in su,ch circumstances, are rapidly displacing the cream-raisinj systems. But it is in a warm climate, such as that of Australia, that the cream separator is specially advantageous, And it is owing to our climatic conditions that in our factories the cream separator is indispensable. Both the Swedish and the Danish separators are represented in the butter factories of New South Wales, and each has its special admirers. The fact appears to be that both machines are good- In th» # cc of the factories, Danish separators are used, and the De Laval is employed in the remainder, while the latter is also most commonly met with in private dairies. As showing the rapidity with which tho new system has been adopted, it may he stated that thero are already 200 De Laval separators in use In New South Wales. lv additionto the horse or steam power machines with which we'are familiar in Victoria, there are several hand-power separators in use in the mother colony. A hand-power separator which I have seen in Victoria was rather hard to turn, and chiefly on that account it has not become popular ; T>ut the vertical hand-power De Laval separator and the Baby separator are easily worked, and they are being used in increasing numbers in New South Wales by owners of from 10 to 20 cows. "The separator renders the dairyman comparatively independent of the weather, -quite so as far as obtaining the cream is concerned. He loses nothing through the-failure of the milk to rise, but makes •certain of getting all the cream, and obtaining it in good condition. I was somewhat surprised to learn that the factoiies not only obtain a higher price for their butterthan private dairies, but also secured a higher price than •separator butter from private dairies. I made particular inquiries upon this point, for it seemed to me that if a man used the cream separator he ought to be =ableto secure as good sjpiice for his butter as a factory. The result of my inquiries "was that the Sydney auction sales, as a general rule, placed the separator butter in the same rank as • best private dairy,' •which was about 3d per lb below ' factory made.' Mr Porter, the manager of the largest butter business in Sydney, has a dairy farm of his own, upon which the separator is used, and he is consequently well qualified to speak upon the subject. He says that the buyers can rely on the factory butter, and that tells on the price. The private separator butter may be as good, bnt it also may be inferior, and this risk affects the price, Mr Porter further explains that on a farm making butter is not the only thing which claims attention. Ploughing, milking, and other things have to be attended to, and consequently the butter business does not always get the attention in lequires. There is oicasionally an inferior claiming, and hence confidence is «l«?stroy«*<l. At the factory thsre is nothing to do but to make butter, and the result is that the butter is generally Wfll male. A large quantity is produced, ttu-1 the whole can be rvlied upon as being of equal quality.

HOW TO START A FACTORY. Since these reports have been appearing, I notice that steps are being taken in two places, viz., at Warrnambool and Macorna, near Kerang, to commence butter factories. Some hints, therefore, upon the methods of proceeding may he of value. The first step in New South Wales is to invite someone familiar with this subject to visit the district and lecture to the farmers. Tho effect of the lectnre 13 that the farmers see the advantages of establishing a factory. This preliminary step is generally taken by a business man in the township — a bank manager, a storekeeper, a lawyer, -or an auctioneer. When it is resolved to start a factory, the first step is to to calculate what quantity of milk can be guaranteed. The quantity varies from 1,000 to 2,000 gallons per day. A guarantee of 1,000 gallons per day is geueraliy obtained, but I was informed that a company would pay even with so small a quantity as 500 gallons per day. If the farmers are agreeable to have a factory, and it is seen that the supply of milk will be sufficient, the next step is to form a company. The business men who have moved in the matter will be of assistance in forming the company. The building will cost £300 to £500, and the plant, including fitting up and preliminary expenses, will bring the necessary outlay up to from L 2,200 in 2,000 shares of LI each. This is the form which the co-operative companies of New South Wales take, provision being made for about 3,000 gallons. For a smaller company less capital would, of course, be sufficient. The capital is called up as it is required, due notice being given. The shares are placed among the farmers, every intending supplier taking up shares. It is not always the case that all the shares are taken up by the suppliers, but this principle is carried out as far as possihle, for the profits are paid upon the milk supplied, and not in the shape of dividends paid-up capital, working expenses are deducted, and the remainder of the income is divided pro rata among- the suppliers. When the' shares are placed, a meeting is held, directors are appointed, and the company is registered; A practical farmer is chosen as manager, one who understands the making of butter being 'secured impossible. The manager j;and directors then proceed to Kiama to one of the established factories to inspect the buildings, plant, and learn the points of importance in the system of working. The visit of the directors and -the manager to an est-ibli-shod factory is s .matter vi ,_;rcit iu.^'Mauc^, :cid lU2

course can be specially recommended to those ■svho are commencing iv this colony, The manager and at lea'fc one of the directors of any new company should visit either Camden or Kiama befoie Incurring; any expenditure. After a visit to the New South Wales factories the company's money will be likely to be economically expended, and operations commenced upon a proper system.