CHAPTER I.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 165, 6 April 1871, Page 7

CHAPTER I.

THE AUBERGE L* ROY, AND THE PASS OF

MARMONTEL.

My uncle, Andrew Lennox, Esq., a partner in the firm of Bullion &, Co., made it a rule to spend New-Year's-day at Lennox Hall with my father and mother. On these occasions there ■was always a gathering of young faces — nephews and nieces — in the old house. The old gentleman used to say that the sight of our young faces kept him young. During one of these visits the conversation was turned on brigands, and the atrocities they commit, by an allusion my father made to a then recent tragical eveut.

" I once," said toy uncle, " had an awkward adventure with a notorious member of that fraternity."

What an excitement amongst us youngsters this announcement occasioned. Curiosity could only be satisfied by a full and circumstantial account of the whole affair.

My uncle told the story in this way : —

" Before retiring to rest I took a final look at the night sky. Where now, thought I, sleep the terrors, or disport the awful splendours of the afternoon heavens? Looking from the bottom of the deep, round, narrow valley, the spectacle of the hour was beautifully magnificent. The moon hid not yet risen. The stars, seen through the pure atmosphere, seemed t j be very near, and were in tensely bright. From the height of the hills, and the circular sLa^e of tli3 valley, they hud the appearance of drawing towards each other. Looking upon their bright faces, the idea passed through my mind, " Now are they singing together." So deep was the silence, and so holy the scene, that I detected myself listening, as if I expected to catch a stray note of the far off song. But it was not to j listen to the singing of the stars that I had left the warm fire, roaring, and hissing," and blazing, on the hearth in the kitchen of the Auberge '1 Roy, in the pleasant valley of Marmontel. During the afternoon a thunderstorm of unparalleled violence had swept over the neighbourhood, and to me at that moment, for reasons which you will learn by-and-bye, an assurance in plain prose from any trustworthy star that there would bo no repetition of the ! fiery glory during the watches of the night, would have yielded more heartfelt delight than if the whole choir had poured upon my ear the full measure of their divine song. Of this I am certain, that if the stars were singing together, they were singing at the Auberge 1' Roy, for all their c} r es appeared to be fixed upon it, and well they might. Spring had got things in order in the valley, and was beginning to show signs of progress ; but the days were still short and the evenings cold, so the great wood tire roared in the hos ; elry from dusk until bedtime. It might have roared from dawn, for anything I knew to the contrary. I said from dusk, because it was dusk, and something more, when 1 arrived, aftep* a i'ide of forty miles over as rough a ro id as can well be imagined. But in these days," slid my uncle, with a sigh, " rough roads were of little account with me, or with Darby either."

The introduction into a story of ray uucle's favourite mare — his faithful companion in many of his wanderings — was always a great affair with us youngsters ; for did she not daily eat before our eyes the bread — not always figuratively — of well-earned ease on the choicest pasture that the manor farm could supply ? He continued —

" Having seen Darby duly attended to, I entered the Auberge with mine host — a little, round, merry and honest looking num. I was welcomed with a chilly kind of hospitality by. the hostess — a comely, bub nevertheless unprepossessing young woman. She was as hoaest looking as her husband, but her honesty had a varnish on it I did not like. Perhaps I discovered the varnish after I knew her bette*. Certain it is, although she was very comely, I conceived towards her an instant aversion, so strong and so unreasonable that I felt ashamed of myself, and tried to dissipate it in cheerful talk ; but in this I completely failed, for, while turn ing to the iire^l perceived "

" But," cried :my uucle, breaking off abruptly, "' I must make you acquainted with events th v at occurred previous to my arriving at the Auberge, before 1 tell you what T perceived while turniug to the fire. I had passed the previous night at the AubeHge 1' Fayette,three leagues from the eh. trainee, io £he giMnd^'Msa of ! Manmontel . 'Having before' me' a' lcrig journey, and, as I anticipated, a plesanfc one, I- had risen early, There was a loose unsubstantial splendour about the morning when I first looked out, but before I had breakfasted, that had disappeared, and the sun wore on, his regal cdunnenance the expression one sometimes sees on the face of a person who has settled a troublesome affair entirely to his satisfaction. Darby was only in moderate trim — a circumstance of rare ocjurenee — bub in the exuberance of my own health and spirits, I lightly concluded it was in consequence of the journey of the prdvions day. "Darby," I said, patting her neck, " the Pass of Mar-

raontel, the height of Sumpter, and the Valley beyond, are before us. We are starting by times. We will enjoy them at our leisure. Away old friend." And off we went. I will not trouble you with a description of the gloomy grandeur of the Pass, but shall come at once to the important incident that marked my progress throu it. After threading the sinuous entrance, there is an uninterupted view of nearly a mile in length, along a rapidly ascending road. I observed on entering this reach, a man seated beside a large 1 boulder at a considerable distatce before me. I don't know that there was anything singular in this, and yet it struck me as being singular. I have observed that there are seasons when there is in the mind a great aptitude for sudden impressions. Perhaps the overshadowing of an imminent and great danger, as in wy case, may be the cause. The feeling of singularity was not diminished when on approaching the man, I recognised in him a person whom I had passed on the previous day, seated as now, by a boulder, and then as now, intently absorbed in the perusal of a book. When opposite, I hailed after the manner of a traveller, as I had clone the previous day ; he neither raised his head nor replied to my salutation. At the further point of the reach I looked back. T»e mtn was still seated by the boulder, and apparently intently perusing hit. book. How trifles when noticed have the power to make us uncomtbrtahU. I did not entertain a good opinion of that man. What had he done to me that I s'louli entertiin an evil opinion of him. What? Has re nor an indisput ible ri^ht to study on w.iate places, aud in passes if hio tastes lead him to do soH Is a studiou3 man obliged to answer the bail of every

talkative traveller who passes ? Certainly not. So one of these queer inUividu.ilirtos, who iv every mm 1 .scum

to constitute a debating society thai never abjours, persisted in snyinsr. The other nvm'je.r replied, '' I do not dispute his rig it to stu ly in the pass

of Marmontel, I rather, on tie whole,

like the idea. But, pray, how did he get there ? " a question which brought

his ingenious opponent to a dead lock. The fact is, twenty-five leagues lav

between the spot where I had passed him during the morning of the previous day and the boulder by which he was seated at that moment. Twenty-five leagues in twenty consecutive hours. "It might be done," said member number one. " Very true : it mi'jcht be done," was tho reply of memhpr number two. *' Yet for a student of the intense kind does it not seem rather strong exercise ?" Do what I would, I could not get rid of the fVllow until I saw the heights of Sumpter, and the open country before me. Then he

dropped from my thoughts,

I "Ti e nature of the piss, and the pre-ot'cupation of my mind, had prevented my noticing a great and not very agreeable change in the anpecr of the day. The sky to the east had become preternaturally black. Thore was a hissing silence in the air ; for to no sound that I had ever heard could iit be likened. Elevation above the ordinary level of the working world Jias ever in my mind invpste.l the

tumult of the elements wifch supernatural influences. In the city potiynon thought of a common danger, and -tfh'e blending of common aympathip^ draw down the soul tn a material level. Its' perceptions of the sublime sdpc-tac-le being enacted are fitful, and th" impressions mide by the rapidly succeeding phases of the speefti'Oe a"c t-ansient ; bit on the -mountains summit, the limitations of the soul sreii to drop off, and the immortal one hears in the roll of n.arnre'a grand cathprlral music, a voice of its horne — reeo\rniaps, as the holy men of the a?es hive recognised, the voioe of G-o-1 i n the stupendous manifestation of His dowri\ I have shared since that hour in thp terrors of many storms of se.a and land, but have never witnessed a storm which equalled that of which T am speaking, either in tho rapidity with which it mustered its legions, in the

wild power in which it srnoppd unnn

the surprised earth, or in its duration. For an instant Darby and I stood stock-still on the height of Sumprer, on every side the solid earth sloping away inio a misty infinity, nn oquostrian statue on thp apex worl 1, so it seamed. But it was for an instant only. The s6orm was upon us. (To be continued.)