Summer and Winter. A Story for Girls and Boys. I.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 369, 18 May 1889, Page 4

Summer and W inter. A Story for Girls and Boys. I.

A hot July day. The sun's rays, unbroken ' by a passing cloud, fell full upon the earth' It was a day for idling, a day for shady "ooks, for boating, bathing, for anything but serious woik. The country roads were dusty and unpleasant, the grass was dry and brown. It was what elderly people call " a good old-faehioned summer." The owner of Rose Lawn, a noble mansion in the M dlands, was a London merchant. Born of poor parents, John Topham had fought his way to position and fame among the magnates ot the mighty Babylon. { Genial and homely himself, he had wedded a wife of aristocratic biith and feeling. They had two children, Archibald and Ethel, aged respectively fourteen and twelve, Archie inherited his mother's worldly notions of respectability and right. Jt wasnot the lad's heart that was so oiten wrong ; only the idea 0 he imbibed were mistaken. Ethel bore no likeness to her brother in relations with other people, and was as thoughtful and kind towards her less tortunate fellow creatures as she was sensitive in all things. On this lovely summer's afternoon, brother and sidter strolled together down the drive Irom the house, and wandered away along the high road beneath the shade of widespreading branched. Archie had noc wa ked tar ere ho declared that the day was just one degree too hot for him. Yet, clad in his light guerntey suit, straw hat, and canvas shoes, everything which money could command had been done to ensure hi* comfort. But the attributes of comfurt do not necessarily mean contentment, and he grumbltd heartily at the inconvenience ot motion in such a herce heat. Had he been of a reflective turn of mind, the next few minutes would ha\ eafiorded him ample opportunity lor a cuinpaiison of his own lot with that of others, which might have impressed him deeply. The light and shade of human life follow each other as certainly and as conspicuously as the datkniss ot night succeeds to the most biilliant ot days. Along that same road there came a lad of Archibald's own age. But wha* a contrast ! Save that both weie human, there was no point of resemblance between the two. The one was a lad born and bred in luxury, |used to good living, bearing in almost every thread ot his gaiments, the stump of a letined atonement, whose only present grievance was an over-cons?cious ennui The other was a child whose apsocia ions from the day of his birth had probably been misery, untempered by one tleatn ot real Happiness. Dirty, ragged, hungry, weary, footsore, he made his way trom place to place, hoineles.s, friendless, hopeless, unknown—a beggar. As the lad limped near, Archie eyed him suspiciously. Nosenseot pity possessed him. If he had any feeling at all it was one of disgust for the boy's unkempt condition. Yet, for all he knew, the outcast might bear a character as unstained amid all its temptations as his own amid no temptation whatever. In a few minutes the lad had come close up with the brother and sister. " I beg y'r pardon, sir," lie said, as be approached and respectfully placed his ringer on hife ragged cap " I'm so hungry. I've had nothing atween my lip 3 since yesterday 'cept a drop of water from the stream." Archie's only response was an indignant e l e\ation of his head. Taking bis sister's hand, he dre*v it within his arm, and walked away. For an instant the beggar regarded his indifference with an expression on his sun-burnt, dust-begrimed countenance of mingled disgust and pain. Then, with asudden impulse, he rushed to Archie's side and cried, "Oh, fir, don't be so hard ! Please give mo one penny to get a crust at the next village ?" " Be off, you young vagabond ! You have no business here at all ! Go— unless you want a licking !'' exclaimed Archie, as the blood rushed to his cheeks. " I shan't be able to go much further," theboy replied. "I shan't have no strength left to do it." His woids struck deeply into Ethel's heart, and she would have put her hand into her pocket tor her purse. But Archie seized it, and, turning to the boy, cried, as he raised his cane menacingly. " I tell you to be off, or I'll make you !" The threat seemed to intuse new lite into the young supplicant's frame. He drew himself up proudly, and his eyes sparkled with intense ieeling. " Do it !" he exclaimed with bitter contempt. " Tieat me like a dog ! You're a coward ! Strike me, if ye dare i' He paused for a moment; then continued hutriedly, " You do not know what it is to go without a meal. May the good God of whom my poor mother used tell me never let you know it !" The boy's breast heaved with exceeding emotion, and with his last words his strength seemed to vanish. He wiped his dirty sleeve across his eye, and, without another syllable, moved away down the road. Such a prayer could not fail to have eflect. Archie's heart was touched, but so had been his self-conceit, and he could not now control himself sufficiently to be ohaiitable. Not po was it with Ethel. Willing from the first to help the lad, she reiused to be restrained longer. She released her arm, and running back to the beggar placed a shilling in his hand. He grasped it eagerly and as the tears again started to his eyes, he seized her little white fingers and kissed them earnestly in mute gratitude.

11. Sttmaier was gone. Winter has come. It is Christmas Day. The trees have shed their leaves. The duet on the roads has given place to snow, and it is a day for sharp exercise — of skating, for football, for anything but idling. The TophaniB are spending their Christmas at Rose Lawn, and again to-day, as on that scorching day in July, Archie and Ethel aie out together. Now warmly-clad, they make their way down the same road, and crossing 1 a stile proceed some distance into a small wood, until they come to a large pond, which is frozen over. "I wonder whether the ice will bear," said the lad, as he tried the side with his foot. " It is very dangerous, Archie," remonstrated his sister. " I would not try it." " Don'fc be silly, Elsie," was the reply. "If it is strong, I can bring my skates down to morrow and enjoy myself. You will have to come, too." " I'm sure it will not bear your weight," Ethel pleaded. But self-willed as ever, Archie, finding the sides perfectly safe, went cautiously totvaids the middle. He was about to assure his sister that ifc was all right, when the ice creaked ominously, and with a momentary terror, he pub his foot down quickly to retreat. The ice gave way, and he fell deep into the bitterly cold water. Never, however, for a second losing his wits, Archie graspod the jagged edges near

him. ' Several times they snapped beneathf his'weigl»t. Then at last, getting hold of* - stronger piece, he endeavoured, to drag him self out. iiut his struggles only resulted in the still further demolition oi the imperfectly congealed substnnce. Ethel, appalled by the suddenness of the disaster, regarded his predicament in helpless amazement. To assist her brother herself was impossible. Was there time to run for help? The impulse seized her, and she started off at. lull speed, ciying loudly as she ran — " Help ! Help !" So far as she knew, not a single person was near. Could Archie, immersed in the freezing water as he was, maintain his hold till the returued from Rose Lawn with assistance? - ' As, already breathless, she emerged into the road, to her great joy she met a re-spectably-dressed lad of some fouiteen years, in two words she explained the situation. "Show me the way !" he cried, readily, even eagerly, and she led him swiftly to the eoene ot the accident. Archie was becoming rapidly benumbed. The cold water had driven the blood to his head, and a short time might suffice to render him insensible. The lad whom Ethel had brought with her seemed to take in the situ-ition at a glance. Pulling forth a large pocket-knife he cut away a stout stick trom a hedge close by. With this he proceeded carefully across the ice, and then throwing himself on his chest, extended the stick within Archie's reach. The feat was delicate in the extreme. There was the possibility of the ice breaking under him. There was also the possibility of his being dragged himself into the hole. But when Archie had grasped the stick, the lad began to haul away with courageous indifference to his own safety. Twice Aichie made an attempt to get on to tirm ground. Each time the ice broke and let him back into the water. But at last by dint ot much tae, and after an exciting struggle, he was pulled into safety. Completely exhausted by the nervous tension of the last ten minules, he found it exceedingly difficult to wulk. To get home at once was, huwever, impt rati\ely necessary, and leaning on Ethel's shoulder, and on that of his rtscuer, Archie made his way as quickly as circumstances permitted, towards Rose Lawn. It was a wearying, paiiiful progress, and when they arrived at the bottom of the dii«e up to the house, Archie had grown so weak that he could proceed no further. Ethel ran loiward to iiet help. Meanwhile, with a btrong effort, the lad who had saved her brother, picked him up — although the two boys must have been of neaily equal weight, and the water in Archie's clothes made him considerably heavier than he would otherwise have been — and carried him. In a minute or two more Archie was in bed in warm blankets, and no serious resulo was anticipated from his immersion. The strange lad, himself much fatigued by his exertions, was taken into tice Lawn, and having first been cared for in every way, Mr Topham requested that he should be sent to him in his study. After expressing his deep gratitude lor the service he had tendered him, Mr Topham asked him his name, which he gave as William Stevens. Further questions elicited from him that he had neither mother nor father, and nas earning a livelihood as an errand boy in the nearest town. Mr Topham sat in thought for some minutes. Apart from the obligation unJer which Stevens had laid him, he was impressed by the lad's intelligent beating. " Would you," he said, presently, " like to come and" live with me ?" "Yes, if you please, sir, I should very much," was the frank response. *' It would be better than carrying parcels in this cold weather." " Are you fond of reading and writing," asked the gentleman. "I think I should be sir, if I had the chance of learning," said Stevens. " Veiy well, then, come to me as soon as you can, and you shall have every opportunity to improve yourself." With these words, Mr Topham, placing a sovereign in the lad's hand, and again thanking him, closed the interview.

111. Tex years elapsed, during which a great change took place in the relations ot the persons connected with this story. William Stevens with rapid steps had raised himself to an honourable position among city men. Entering Mr Topham's service as a boy to assist the butler, in the course of a few months he had so far educated himself that his master gave him a position in his office in London. Here he displayed such unremitting energy, such an aptitude for grasping the details of his business, that ho carried all before him and stood, in a few years, immediately beneath the partners in the firm of Topham and Co., with every prospect, at no distant date, of being admitted into the chaimed circle itself. With the Tophams he was on the most intimate terms. Mr Topham was proud of his protege, and between Archibald and Stevens a strong manly friendship had sprung up. Both were in Mr Topham's office, and each did all in his power to ad\ance the other's interests. Mrs Topham showed towards him the merited giatitude of a mother. The most important phase of Stevens' connection with the Tophams, however, was the love which had been developed between himself and Ethel, who by this time had grown into a handsome and graceful woman. Bufc for this love the finishing touches might be wanting to our narrative. Mrs Topham rais d objections to her daughter marrying a young man — clever, good-natured, and. honest, indeed— bub of whose birth they knew nothing. The hi.-tory of himself, which he eventually gave, was equally sta»tling to all concerned He at first showed some reluctance to commence his story, but after a while overcame his modesty and made hi* confes&ion before Mr and M is Topham, Archie, and Ethel. This, briefly put, is what he eaid :—: — " My father, an artisan, died when I was four years o'.d. My mother, who was never strong, was left dependent on an aged father. Her lob was a hard one, and she was laid beside her husband in less than five years. For two years more I lived with my grandfather, who was deep in difficulties of many kinds, and when at the end of that time he died, his effects were sold to partly meet the demands of his creditors. Left penniless and alone in the world, I gained a livelihood by doing odd jobs at a livery stable. How I existed during the next three years is now almost incomprehensible to me. I have them stamped on my memory as years of hardbhip and privation, such as can be understoot only by those who have had experience of them. Half-starved, and at the mercy of anyone who chose to box my ears, I one day gob into troublewith my employer who thereand then turned me out of 1 the stable yard, yes ! out into the wide, wide world, a wretched unit in the throng of humanity, unheeded, hopeless, inditferenb what my fate might be. 1 wandered about I know not. where, sometimes getting work at a village for a day or so,'sometim€s picking' up a sixpence for holding a gentleman's horse, more often' for days begging my bread. Id such a

plight I found myself in the neighbourhood of Rose Lawn on one hob summer's day." Here he paused and looked round. There was a moment's silence, broken at last by Archibald. •' Great hearens ! my dear Will, I can tell what is coining," he burst forth, as he sprang to his feet and grasped his friend's hanJ. Ethel, too, as she listened, had become pile and agitated — with her brother, instinctWely divining the revelation about to be made. Surprised at this sudden show of feeling, not lees than at the drift of Stevens's story, Mr and Mrs Topham waited eagerly for further explanation. " Don't say any more, Willie," pleaded Ethel, as she rose and stood by his side. " We will forgive you the rest, dear." •'Yes! yes ! old man!" urged Archibald, as he turned his head slightly away from the gaze of his friend and future brother-in-law, " tell everything. I have not forgutten that terrible day. It is not you who should be ashamed. I remember my he&rtleasness. " "On that day," went on Stevens, striving to be calm under the embarrassing circumstances, and now adJre=siug himself to the mother and father. " I met a young gentleman and a young: lady, whoee names I now know to be Archibald and Ethel Topham. I begged of them For a copper, and the sister, with characteristic kindness of heart, gave me a shi ling. That shilling probably saved me from the worst consequences of my wretchedness, and finally saved you Archie, my dear good fellow, from being drowned when you met with that accident on the ie« ; to it, ceitainly, I owe the position that I am now proud to occupy. I went into the first coffee shop I came to, to buy some food, and met there a man who found me employment, that proved permanent until I came to live at Rose Lawn. I never for a moment forgot to whom I was really indebted for my good fortune, and on the following Christmas-day, I walked out to the spot where I had met my joung benefactress. What happened subsequently you all know. I have often felt anxious to unburden my heart and thank her," he said, as he plftced his hand affectionately upon Ethel's shoulder, " but somehow, in my prosperity, I have hesitated to acknow ledge that I was the begear boy whom she succoured in his hour of diiest need." The firm of Topham and Co. has long since become the firm of Topham and Stevens, the partners now being Archibald and William. No one outside the family circle knows the latter's history. Within the family circle it is now the proud and loving boast of Mrs Stevens that she practically bought her husband with a shilling.