WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY. CHAPER VI.

Waikato Times, Volume III, Issue 173, 17 June 1873, Page 2

WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY.

CHAPER VI.

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. Among the advantages of being the first man in a village, may be counted that you may share iill tbe honours of greatness with those who are much "higher in the social hierarchy than yourself. " The mayor of Stodge-'in-the-Hole * may call the Lord Mayor of London brother, the tiniest German Prineekin may share with 'the Emperor, of the Germans the hoiroura due to royalty. Thus, Even Rowlunds, the banker, although not in anyway eminent, yet, as being the head man in his own county — the landed proprietors being mostly ri'onresident, and only appearing at times of elections— enjoyed the consideration and esteem which men usually give 'to those who dispense the gifts they desire. For an^ ordinary country wedding, the services of the rector of the parish, assisted by spme other clergyman, would hay« sufficed/; for the banker's son, no less a personage' thin the bishop of the diocese had consented to officiate. On the whole, the county was delight cd. Tho very dissenters wanted to borrow money somotimes, as frequently the? had money to deposit, so that Evan was on the best terms with them, although kept by his daughters in tile strict paths of the ' ohurch ; and they felt flattered and appeased at' the compliment paid to their class and clan by the bishop's offer to marry Arthur Williams and Mart Roberts. Kate and, Winny were fervent upon the matter. It might eventually be the means of reconciling the Welsh to the church of their fathers ; who could say what blessed results might .not flpw from this episcopal condescension^ , , "" * ''•''' ''', Bear in mind 'that the bishop in Wales is of vastly more importance to his clergy and their friends than any English bishop to his flock. He is the dispenser of. nearly 'all the patronage in his diocese. By meekness, devodtness, and pleasing his bishop, the' poorest curate may rise to comfortable preferment in his church. If he eschews cwrw dda [good ale] on the one hand, and ritualism on the other — if he be not too learned for the bishop or too independent fpf the bishop's wife, his path of life upwards i* pretty well secured. The flutter of expectation and anxiety that accompanies the advent of a bishop in Wales is therefore great. ' The village of Llanfechan is astir, for the bishop is coming this day to pay a visit to their rector, and the wedding is to take, place on the day after the morrow. It had been arranged that a deputation of the clergy should meet the bishop at the nearest station, and escort him with all due honours to Llanfechan. Unfortunately, a mistake was made. There were two stations almost equidistant from the visage. The bishop alighted at the first ; the clergy were waiting for him at tbe second. Unfortunately, too, it happened that the clergy were not entirely unrepresented .at the first station. The Rev. Owen G-wyarwos there ; anS. his Reverence was one of the old school. A litrlo harmless ruse had been planned by his brother clergy to get him out of the way, as he insisted on claiming his pririlego'of joining their procession ; lie had been sent to tho wrong station. In this case it turned out to be the right One, for there the -bishop alighted. ' Owen Qwyar was the lees of a man, who had been in some sort a scholar and a gentleman i but all that then 'had been about him of good manners' and good breeding had long •moe burnt away, leaving only the dregs of what had been a character. Tho G-wyars were formerly of the oM Welsh gentry, inhabiting n gray stone house on the flank of a hill, which had a long avenue of stag-headed, hide*bound trees leading up*to it, a grove' of firs about it for shelter, a fish-pond, and a sheep-cot hard by, a barn, a kiln) a stable, and 'a sty for tbe pigs. Law and liquor had lost them their, lands. Owen was the last of their race ; the curate of a chopelry on the bills he had held for forty yean. In hit early days, he had spent the small remains of his humble patrimony in ruffling with the young bloods 'of the principality.*' He had drunk and gamed with wild John Mytton, had shared his mod pranks, had officiated a*, chaplain at many unseemly revels. Now a shaking, dilapidated old man — sober perforce, except when a neighbouring: squire gave a feast or an ojd friend would stand a treat—he found himself alone in a new world of primness and propriety, hard put £6 it even to retain the small pittance thnt kept him from starvation. Thus, in addition to the fear they had that, Owen would disgraco his cloth, and scandalise the bishop by some wild and wioked conduct at hfa visit, his brother clergy had nlio the kindly motive of screening him from the consequences of episcopal anger. His present conduot would, hardly bear investigation : fortunately, there was no one to coin plain of. him. His parishioners were used to him, and didn't mind his occasional inebriety. Anything could be pardoned to a man who had a good heart ; besides, all tho tobor ones went t) chapel. The bishop put his head out of tho window at the Llanfirion station, and seeing a tall anil gentlemanly clergyman — for, up to a certain point, und when got up for such an i occasion as the present, Owen was eminently good-looking — Ihe mildly said : 'One of my clergy, l think. Is it here' l [ alight for Llanfechan ?' • It ia, my lord,' said Qwcn, motioning tho station-master to open the door of tbe carriage. ' Aud will see if there is a carriage waiting here for mo?' ' Your lordship had better send a servant to look, 1 said Owen. To the last he retained a puiictiliousneas-ef personal dignity that wns in odd contrast to his usual manners and actual circumstances. His lordship's domestic chaplain, who had. boon looking j . out at tho strong side, hero alighted, and cam© to the |

rescue 'How de do? Delighted to see you,' he said, slinking Owen by the hand. 'la your carriage hero for hi? lordship ?' f My carriage ji» very much at his service,' said Owen. relaxing a little*. • Then I'll see. all *lre luggage out, if you'll get hj« lordship to the carriage.' • Mind, they don't forget that hat box,' cried the bishop. 1 I'll see Jto th,e lijit box, if your lordship will go and take your aettt.' ' " •But I'm anxioiu about I hat l#it box j you kno^juu left it behind last week.' • Is it tho mi,tre Your 10/vWiip prrjes ia the hat box?' in- , quired Owen, gravel y. , .. • K'n'no j in fact, it's my wideawake hat- When J comt among Jt'hcao heuulifid mdijntainU, I bfe fco yonder about, forgetting my "heavy burdena and fospQW\bs&VS* tor a whify — in a widfcawnke bat, ypu, know^i£ tfrwffplwtf ope so, fo| renewed exertion.' • Is it irf«iW Jjead, ihen, your lprdslfiw feejs ,th» weakness ? I ■aid Oweu. • Eh ?' cried the bishop fharpiy.^' W.h^e'sfnypld friend Roberts, eh? Why dodsw'J; he come to meet me?— Well, well ; have you gojlr th*> hat Jbox all "right, Row-lands ?— ? That's well-r-Now, my Wear ejr, if take me to you» carriage/ ' d "'Owes gravely esQQirf^scl the bishop from die platform, bowed toium with much dignity as they-reache'd the road" outside. ' I -shall do myself the honour of driyipg your lordship to your destination/ ' k j Owen G-wy&r's carriage "had once beep ft dogcart-Vthe body of it, that is — » tandem 'dogcart which had jcome to grief amongst the hills, the body of which had been too much shattered to make it worth taking'away* Owen had mended this himself with splints of wood and iron {fails ; the a'xl« and springs^were undeniably good, T bnring" belonged to the Flyaway coich, dismantled and broken up since the opening of the 'line. Dae of the. wheels, 'too, had belonged to tho old coach ; its fejlow had4>cen too rotten, audits plaaj was supplied by a new one, m^ade by the village blacksmith. They were as near pairs as cou\d £c expect^d^not to much iv appearance, because one was painted a" urjgbjb r ed, wbils| the other was not painted at all —^difficulty having arisen as to the pecuniary advance requisite Tfor * procuring paint ;'but they were a very fair match in size. The near wheel visa the smaller,- but the consequent tendency of the carriage to roll in thai direction Mas counteracted by the parson's Galloway, which' persistently jibbed to .Ac offside! The" pony, whose legs boie the niaiks of long aii faithful service, had', m honour of the bishop's visit, Been treated with a feed of corn that morning by Ihomas, the village publican ; his consequent gaiety ol heart had )ed him to roll copiously in the Intern dung-heap ; jiis Jong rough coat had dfiied the efforts oi Thonmfi, ; who was pressed for time, and whose curryc6mb had lost its teelh, to bring it to even decen); cleanliness. Thomas* stood pi the pony-s head, passing his fingers through her knotted .triune, grinning and nodding at the bishop. ' W«'d hare had her beautifully clean, if we kno\y' a day op J;wp eooner— yes, indeed. You spik Cymrteg ?— '- Eh, no ? YVtiatTyou no s"pik Cymraeg for ? ' •Is thi? tho carriage, oh f ' said the 'bishop, eyeing it doubtfully through his eyeglass. • I'd bavj| brought the chariot if I'd known I should have I had tho Honour of driving your lordship.' " !lity quite j»#'?' ' ' 'Oh,' she ferry safe; you not be afraid. You get in gently-— she'll not preak.' '!•**•••, , » * r ßut »aat about the luggage?' said tho chaplain in dismay. ' * ■ r * *We shall have room for his lordship's hat-box,' said Owen? f The Juggaga can follow in a cart.! ' l But where #m. I to sifc? * There* noixicfcseat,' oried the chaplain. . ' Oh, jump in,' said Owen, { there's a bag of chaff in the corner.' 'Well, really,' said the bishop, having sat down and, aranged his skirts, ' this is very primitive and delightful ; it really reminds one of Baldwin's pilgrimage through the* land, so pleasantly commemorated by Giraldiis — eh, my dear brother ? ' 4 And to bring us into subjection English bishops,' said Owen 'gruffly, for be was strong on tbe indepedence of the British Church. . ' Geehup, old mare.' •» The old mare was not inclined to gee up, but-persisted in backing into the hedge, - ' , ■ ' ' Tlromas had to drag her forcibly into tho middle of the road, then, by a judicious mixture of kicks, threats, and* blandishments, he induced her. to start, sand after she had started, -he jumped oh to the step on the bu>hop'« side, holding on by- the^op of the cart. t ' Don't -you think the springs might gi\e way, eh?' said t?ue_bishop, feeling tbe grinding' of the ax.le agau^t the floor of the cart,, the vehicle beiug down on its very marrow-bone a^ witfb the weight upon it. , • O no ; ferry goot springs, and plenty rope ,to tuc»d them. Gh> ahet, Owen ; go ahet.— ;Hoo, hod 1 tschee, techec ! ' 1 Uttej'ing w'lld cries to keep the ' pony in motion, Thomas > clung on to the side of the- cart tilL they k reachrd a little village of'stono huts, through which run a little rivulet." When they game to tHe Gwydlr Arms, a stone hut a little bigger than the rest, tho pony threw xip his head with a snort, and came to a stop so suddenly, that the bishop \oetk his balance, and would liave fallbn-upon the horde's ci upper, but for theioutstretched arm of- Thomas. The bishop shook his' head. These |were uo(, the habits of a well regulated clerical pony. 1 Will you: have a glass with me ? ' cried Thomns. ' I very pleased to treat .you all. Come?" ■ ' Nagoddy wear diolch vaur frend,' said the bishop, airing his scanty Welsh. s c 'What! you spik.Cymrpeg ? ' cried, Tliom^s, seizing him by tho hand and shaking it violently. ' Why not auu say so before, cli ? Gome", I treat you to a glass for that ; all ♦be' clergy come artd drink wid me.' 'No,'noj thanks— 'many thanks!' cried the bishop. ']£. never take -anything before, puncheon.' ' Indeetf/t^m'thuhderirig cTry,' growled OWen, irritated tins long irrational discussion. ' Bring us a jug of your best,' Thomas, and no more words.' J' . • s Owen was in that state of preparedness that tho jug of alo he tobk'at thd' Q-wydir arms hod the effect of quite overbalancing his fncultiesf A further pontes^ witlytho obstinate' 1 pony enraged him > and as he drove away h-om the village,* and took* the mountain road that led to Llanfecban, he began" to mutter and -growl to himself in a way that was quite alarming. SiiU, they were making good progress ; it could not be many miles' to L'lanfcclian. ' The bishop devoutly hoped that they might arrive there without accident. ' They had now reached a higher part of the road, whore the snow ''lay' in masses on each side] pjled up /in banks, which' tbe frost had hardened into the consistency of iron •" the pony began to flag, and Owen, jumping to his feet in the' cnriY flourished the whip'roiyid .his head in rage, and comraenced to lash the pony furiously. The tip of tbe lash caught tbe bishop in the eye, and altogether his lordship's patience began to fail him., . 'J ;. - - • Gently, gently,' sir* said the bishop : ' I hare the greatest horror of reckless driving, and hate never had an accidetft in my life ; and so' J ' ' IVhat!*. ihoutod Ojren; 'weiw you never upset fronr* I~P V • 'Never!' said the bishop',-firmly r . ' Then, by Jupiter, you shall be for onco!' cried Owen, letting go. the pony's head. for an instant. The pony, as was' his habit, flung' fiimielf 'to theirigh^,; the red, wheel of the carriage ran up the sno>vy bank, and, in tho twinkling of an OVf, tho bishop and his chaplain were seated on the snow in an. adjoining field da* & dot. T ' The help was near at hand. _ Roberts, finding the bishop bad alighted at'tlie wrong station, had despatched a carriage to meet him, riding on in advance himself. , ,- | ' 'You we not hurt, my dear bishop ? ' Roberts Reclaimed, l jumping off hisiiorse", and running to give him a helping ' hand to rise. ' I don't think I am,' said the bishop, feeling himself all over ; ' the snow has broken my fall so well that I scat^sly feel shaken at all.' x ' Most providential indeed,' said Roberts. The bishop thankfully took his seat in ( Roberts', well* appointed carridge. , ' , 1 That unfortunate man, is he hurt ? ' ,* ■ - ', fJois in a kind of •tupor,,ibut I don't think it is from tho accident.' My groom will stop and take care of him. How' could you be to imprudent as to trust yourself with him, my dear bishop ? He's a perfect lunatic when — you know,' said Roberts, shrugging his shoulders. ' I didn't know, I didn't know, said the bishop meekly. | , ' Let us be thanklul it is no wffrso.' . The carriage drove off, and Owen was left sitting sup* ported against tho bapk, looking vacantly about him. t '* Whose servant are you ? ' he said at last to the groom. 1 Mr Roberts', sir.' • « . ' Bring iny 1 cal-ringe.' • The carriage had righted itself ; and the old pony, after^ her first fright,' exertion uncalled for, had' j stopped by the roadside, and was now -plaintively nibbling 1 at tho deop twigs of a bush. I ' I'd better drive you bftme. sir.' ' Bring my carriage, and then go after your 'master ljlq you hear ? ' 9 > The shock had really sobered Owen ; and so, having help( d him into his carriage, the groom rode off homewards. O/«« turned the horse's head 'towards the village he had left ; ! but after, a little he fell into a brown study, his grasp of the rem relaxed, the pony slackened his pare unnoticed, came to a walk, then to a complete standstill. &ti)l Owen noticed I nothing, but sat in a sott of'driafc). He iv.i» thinii'mg of I days loug'phst, of the possibilities of life that had been his, I of his wretched miserable state, and yet, at the end of his I bitter thoughff, he sniiled cud looked up. He looked I at. tho dreary landscape ; every 'rock was familiar toiiim, I every cranny in the hillside, every fastness of tho mountains. I JBm?i . jn. tlie brook hard by, had they hunted the -otter I many a Incfry"; day"; then had- the bills echoed to theij shouts, to the ongcr 'baying of their dogs. And there, ore jfl those round-backed hills and along that steep mountain ridg<j^H hod they followed the fox "with. »jl*l cry and tuneful hprnH

«snany a time and oft in day» of yox-c, when stout Sir Bobert lod tho field," arrayed in scarlet glory. And tho. nights— ye 'gods, the nights! 'when tho harp rang loudly in the hall, ' and the song went loudly from groom to lord, the sweet ' Ponilhon, the rousing chorus ! The old manjs head sunk upon his breasted his eyea suffused with tears. They were all gone, these stout and mighty hunters of old ; a new '.■worM bad come in, a world of coldness, rigour, and gloom 1 . 'My old days are very hard to me,' he said, dashing his hanfl , across" bis face. ' What un o!d fool lam ! and to go and upset the bishop, too, like a madman. Ah, it v\o3 John Mytton served me just the <-a u« trie's when ho was driving me Ito Bryn ; ah, how many year* ago ! • Hid eyes once more 'ranged over the snowy landscape, and fixed itself on one blapk spot hovering in the air. ' That's old Bannoch the raven j what has he got for supper to-night, I wonder P -There's a sheep lying there with a broken leg, ll'll bet, just under Craigddu. Ihe mpur/iful croak ot the raven was • borne upon the wind. ' Ah ! my frjend, you'll to--night. I know by your TOic© ypviVe something lying there 1 waiting for you. Amongst those , stones, J expect, by the Boman ktation.' Owen Bent his ear and" listened, for he ' fancied he hoard a faint cry, but^whether it was the shout ol man, or tho bark of dog, or thejshriU i\rhUtle of scampering ■beep, or but the impatient itreaui, ho couldn t tell, so faint and far the Toico, whatever it might be. There was no other ' sound, and Owen gathered up his reins and drove on.