THE VILLAGE CARRIER.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume I, Issue 37, 16 September 1867, Page 4

THE VILLAGE CARRIER.

(Concluded from our last.) Left to himself, John strolled to the village, and posted his precious missive. Or. *:ie way he met one or two beggars, to whom he gave all the money he had hit, r.nd felt a good deal of satisfaction ar bring able to relieve d stress. In the afternoon, not knowing what to do with himself) he completed the destruction of the unlucky bdliard-table iu company with his friend the groom, after which he went for a walk. Unwilling toencountef poverty without the means to comfort it, and having no more cash, he filled all his pockets with cold meat and bread, -which he distributed along the road. The time S; emed to pass wearily enough ; even the society of tie groom and the gambols of 3.i:- pet puppies failed to cheer him. He was, in fact, stupified by the sudden cLange from a life of activity to the almost torpid state in which he now was. When at home in the village, nothingcould be done without his assistance; here he was not required to put his hand to anything; and even his much-prized verterinary skill was not equal to the knowledge of the groom. Happy John no longer] He had not enjoyed his elevation, or more correctly speaking, suffered it, quite a week ere he was tired cf being a gentleman, and longed to be once more in his carrier’s van.

When be entered the breakfast-room the next morning-, John was surprised to fad Mr. Keene awaiting him, with if passible, a graver face than usual. Poor John naturally imagined that he had come to scold him severely for his treatment to the captain. So, when the lawyer said, “I am very, very sorry, Mr Bennett,” John cut in, without waiting to hear more—“ He went to please himself) sir.”

“ I fear we have committed a grave error,” continued Mr Keene, without heeding the interruption. “It seems there is another claimant to the Templar estates. We always supposed that Edmund Templar, eldest sou of Squire Templar, and who was killed in France, in a duel, died unmarried; but it seems he contracted a marriage with the daughter of a tailor in Portsmouth, which on account of his father’s pride, he dared not make public. A son, the issue of this connection, nowcomes forward, and claims the property. I have consulted his legal advisers, who have laid before me the proofs, and they, I regret to say, are morally convincing.” “Then, thank goodness, I am no longer a gentleman !” exclaimed John. “I am once again a poor man.”

“ "Well, sir, there are many things we can do,” said the lawyer. “In the first place, the heir is anxious, if possible, to avoid litigation and consequent publicity inasmuch as neither his extraction nor yours :s likely to confer any additional lustre on the family; therefore I think we can make terms for a handsome annuity, as the price of giving up the property quietly; secondly, we can stand against him, and await a trial. I am convinced myself that he is the heir, but that is a very different thing to satisfying a jury. Possession, yon, know is nine points of thelaw, and there is the glorious uncertainly of it to be considered.” “ Stop, sir, stop,” said John. “No man wants the law to guide him in a case like this, if he had an honest conscience, If there is one with a better claim than mine to this house and these lands, he must have them. I could have wished it otherwise, for the sake of my fioor old mother, whose last few years of ife would perhaps have been made the happier. For myself I care not—l was never intended for a gentleman, and it is but a sorry o.ne I have made. I grieve for my mother. I grieve for dear Mary. Nay, sir,” he said, g-rasping the lawyer’s hand, “ I am sorry for you, as I daresay you will lose your post. Still, I know my duty as an honest man. You say I have no right here, therefore I go; yes, this very day,” “ And what do you think would be a sufficient annuity to claim on your behalf?” said Mr Keene. “ Can I claim it ?” said John, Have I any real right to it ?” “No legal claim to it,” replied the lawyer. “ But in consideration—” “ No more,” interrupted honest John. “ I think I have had enough out of the pocket of the rightful owner, —board and lodging a week for nothing. I have destroyed his billiard table and broken a splendid mirror. I have shot one of his dogs, and killed a horse, and smashed a trap. No, no, I’m off.”

Accustomed as the lawyer was to seeing the most unfavorable side of human nature, he could not hut admire a man who could so readily resign wealth and ease. Seeing that John was bent upon going, he would have ordered a carriage to takehirahome, but the offer was refused. John said the carriage did not now belong to him, and be would not ride in it; so, shaking the lawyer heartily by the hand, the late proprietor of Templar Hall set off on foot. The distance was about thirty miles; hut John was a good walker, and as he left the scene of his late mis■eries behind him, his whole frame seemed to grow lighter, and the old happy smile again appeared on his face. When John reached home he found all the village wrapped in slumber ; but a light was still burning in the window of his own rustic dwelling, and entering he found bis mother and Mary

(who purposed going- to his late property on the morrow) busy putting the last stitches to a quiet and ladylike pink and yellow dress with blue stripes, in whicn poor Mary had made up her mind to be manied to the master of Templar Hall. John’s recital dashed all these i o its to the ground. “ Some natural tears she shed ” at having her prospects of being mistress of so many cows thus cruelly blighted,jand John’s mother could not but sigh for the crimson satin, that she was doomed never to see. The late gentleman consoled them with the assurance that the possession of riches was not nearly so pleasant as they imagined, and having escorted Mary home, was glad to again lay his head under his humble roof. The next morning John rose betimes and commenced preparing his van for his accustomed journey. It would be useless to try to convey any idea of the surprise he was the occasion of) as the inhabitants of the various villages through which his route led him, once more beheld his round, smiling face. At every little place a knot would gather round him to hear his adventures, which the good-natured fellow never tired of repeating. When he got home he was pounced upon by a jcsse of jolly fellows, who carried him in triumph tc the “ Rising Sun,” where, seated on the highest chair in the house, in order that all might see him, he gave them the recital of his few days as a gentleman, over and over again, for more than four hours.

All things earthly must come to an end: and so, when his neighbours had heard the carrier’s adventures about a dozen times, they were forgotten, and by John himself as readily as any one. Some few weeks after this, the same carriage drew up at John’s cottage door, and again the grave countenance of Mr Keene presented itself. John dreaded to see his old enemy with the stiff back, but the lawyer was alone. He greeted John kindly, said he was glad to see him so readily settle down to his old calling, and told him the other and rightful claimant was in possession, and in obedience to his orders, he had come to Tryford,

“ Yes, sir, they are in a bundle upstairs, said John; “ I have not worn them since.’ The lawyer could not understand him, until John explained that he was alluding to his black suit, which he thought Mr. Keene had come for. The lawyer smiled at this, and said he had come on a pleasanter mission, it being (he desire of Mr Templar (the real heir to the estates) that if) during his brief stay there, John had taken a fancy to anything he saw, he would name it, in order that he might have the pleasure of presenting it to him. John hesitated for a few moments, and was about to give an answer in the negative, but, recollecting himself, said he should like to have one of those puppies. It was in vain for the lawyer to urge him to name something more Valuable. John said he did not want anything. However, by skilful questioning, Mr Keene ferreted out John’s wishes with regard to Mary Giles and the “ Rising Sun,” and with this he returned to his employer. Not many days afterwards, Mr Templar himself) being anxious to see a man with so little worldly ambition, called at John’s residence, and presented him with the title deeds of the “ Rising Sun,” and of a snug little farm adjoining, both of which he had purchased for him. He settled a small annuity on John’s mother, and gave a handsome marriage portion to pretty Mary. After all the smart wedding dress was soon wanted. The squire himself gave her away—ay, and took a hearty kiss from her blushing cheek. On leaving, Mr Templar told John and his bride if ever they should want a friend, to come to him. John altered the sign of his house in honour of his benefactor,- and if anyone wants a glass of good home-brewed beer, or care to see happy John, and his equally happy wife, I would advise him, supposing that he does not mind the noise of half-a-dozen rosy-cheeked sturdy urchins, to visit the pretty little village of Tryford and to stop at “The Templar Arms.”