A GOLDEN SORROW.

Waikato Times, Volume IV, Issue 244, 2 December 1873, Page 2

A GOLDEN SORROW.

I swear, 'tit better to be lowly born, « And.ranffe with humble livers, in content. Than, to -be perksd Up in a ginttfering grief, And weir a golden sorrow. -SitixsriAHZ.

1 I \ " *,>-^ , OtfiArTElt&tXl.— COJTTI^TTED. Mb Martjij wattoalkin<rioftlf tk and fro before the windows, | hit head bVnfc downwards! and : his hand* clasped behind bis back. He > stopped, ft nd lookfd lip, when the (aid this. 'I perceive you are in Mrs Sit Queiitin's confidence altogether/ lie ?aid, ' since you know how Mr Clint and hit ton parted. I hare no doubt that confidence it w< 11 placed, and that I am safe in imitating it. Wnlter Clint calculates, in this matter, with the cheerful confidence of a young man, and Mrs St Quentin lias not seen her father for more than a year. I was about to write to her, when Mrs Ritchie told me that slit' had, very properly, done 10 5 and that circumstances' (ho looked very sharply" at Florence here*, but the bore the scrutiny calmly — the secret of Miriam's fatal mistake was not to be surprised from her) — 'unexplained circumstance* hnd prevented her coming to England. Mr* Ritchie- btlieved, good woman, that Mr Clint wished for the society of hi* daughter. Inm convinced that, in this, slit is entirely miltaken, and that in sending you as a substitute, Mrs St Quentin has done a very sensible tiling. Now, Mr* Dixon — I nm right in the name, I think?' ' You are right, sir.' ' I am going to speak quite- plainly to you about Mr Clint. lam very glad you are here. He likes you, and I have never known him to like any other human being. Ihe time^ is eon-ing, not slowly, when all his independence and morose-™ ness, nil his violence and suspicion, inu*t give way, under severe bodily suffering, and tlirn, if you have thet courage,, and the charity, you may amply repay his daughter's confidence and regard, by taking (care of, him. You have had a slight experience of him in illness — are you brnve enough, to venture on a prolonged experience, and of a very serious nature ?' 1 1 am,' enid Florence, with tear* in> her tyts. „ ' Quiteready, for his daughter's sake. But — is he so very ill P Hecan <o about as usual, and keeps his customary hours.— at least, so far as I know.' ' Just so ; but you know very little. Waltea Ulint must not defer the making of his pence with his father for another yenr, if lie wishes to make it this aide the grave. You mayi tell Mrs St Quentin this, and bid her communicate it to herbrother. 1 have endeavoured to get at. Mr Clint's thoughts in reference to his eon more than once lately, but I havefailed. There is something in .the case which Ido not understand, tnd yet I thought I knew it all — I saw enough of it,. Heaven knows — some new cause of bitterness in Mr Clint'smind, which he is keeping hidden from me, and when I say that, I imply that it is hidden from every one- Waller Clint ought to know this, and to remove it, without any moretlian the inevitable delay, for the time in which his father will have an opportunity of changing his mind üboui him, of altering any dispositions he may have made to his detriment — I know nothing on (his poh.t, recollect, but I have a very strong conviction — will be short.' "V , 'Do you mean that Mr Clint is in danger of deatli ?' ' v jl ' He is in an early stnge of an incurable, internal disease,' replied Mr Martin solemnly, 'of which, 1 think, he is not quite unconjei >us, though he has never put a question to me,, and it is very improbable he would listen to me. if 1 told him. £ hinted, some weeks ago, that it would be well to have another medical opinion, on which he flew into a rage, and declared, with many oaths, that no doctor but myself ohould ever darken his doors, nnd that if 1 did not like the troubleof attending him, I might take myself off also. It is rather difficult, to resist such an invitation, but I have resisted it for many years, and I shall resist it to the last. Toll Mra St Quentin that, if you please. He may keep up, and about, and the people in the house with htm may not perceive any material alteration in him for some time yet, but. nothing, except the relinquishment of his habits, would giro him a. clmnc» for the prolongation of his life. The complete breakdown may come soon and euddenly, or it may be deferred some time, for he is a strong man still — but happen it must ; and if you have come to take .Mrs Sc Quentin's place, you ought, to know what that implies, and to be sure you are equal to it.' ' I will obey your directions implicitly,' said Florence ;. 'and if I can Jonly induce Mr Clint to allow me to atten«j| him, I am not afraid of failing in doing so.' • A delicate young creature, 1 thought the doctor, • for such an undertaking, but with samethig so staid and steady about her, too, that I durrsay she will do it admirably. A great turn-up of luck for Clint v that his daughter has cent thisyoung woman in her , place ; she will be worth a dozen of Miriam. Why can't she. come, I wonder ? Won't, perhaps — or has caught an elderly Tartar.' He continued aloud : 'You can write to Mrs, St Quentin exactly what I tell youi Assure her that all in my power todo 411811 be done, and especially urge her to represent the condition of his father* health to her brother ; that an attempt moy be made to put an end to the. unnatural, state of things* between them.' """* ' Is there anything I can do just now ?' . 'No,' said Mr Martin; 'there is not. Try to ingrntiatlr yourself with Mr Clint, to let him get used to you. I sup^ pose you know all hi) peculiarities ?' Florence replied that she did, und told Mr Martin someparticulars of Mr Clint's illness in. London. 'Just so' he said; 'and next time it will be worse, and the time after worse again, and so on, until there will be nonext time. I will say good. bye now Mrs Dixon, but lam coming to dinner to-morrow, and by that time I suppose you will have written to Mrs St Quentin.' He left her, and a* he went down stairs, he, tod, like Mr Clint, thought: 'She looks like a lady.' Florence sat down forlornly, and covered' her face with her bands. A vision of her old borne, in ber childhood, when she had no notion of such family disunion, misery, concealment, cross-purposes, could possibly exiat — a keen, sorrowful remembrance of her dead mother, came to he^| ' Why were such things !' she thought. ' Why warthe world so dreary, which was also so fair ; and' life n<ytwt*o blesome, which had such elements of happiness in it.' And no answer came to her but tears, and the ciy in her heart, ' Walter, Walter.' What ww> the to do ? The question did not long perplex her. She was to do her duty, to Walter's father and to Miriam — to watch for an opportunity of effecting a reconciliation, if possible — having previously endeavoured to procure her husband's permiaaion to tell Mr Clint the whole truth. Sbe wrote ber letters — one to Walter, one to Miriam — and walked to the village to post them. On ber return, as. she waa passing the lower range of rooms, to enter the house by a side-door, ahe observed Mr Clint in his accustomed place in the study window, and aaw that he was looking languid and ill. She had fulfilled berappninted. t<i*k of aiding the housemaid to arrange bis rooms in the morning, but had not seen him. Now he peiceived her, and opening the long window, asked her to step into the room, as he wished to speak to her. Mr Clint's study communicated with the formally furnished, unused drawing-room by a folding-door, which was usually locked, and over which a curtain alwafn hung.f Florence saw that the curtain had been dra^^TOtek, and the door was standing open. ' 1 heard you playing on tt»e piano up-stairs,' said Mr Clint,. • You play very well, indeed ; it is a long time since I have, heard such music, indeed since I heard anything worth listening to.' ' Thank you, sir,* said Florence. ' Mrs Eitchie told me you were so kind as to say you did not mind my using the piano, and that you rant me some music' ' Will you try whether the piano in there is a good instrument, and not too hopelessly out of tune ?' Florence instantly complied. The piano was so placed that the performer was not visible from the study. Sbe touched the keys, running over a biillliant voluntary of chords. The instrument wrs a good one, and in fair order. Florence told Mr (Jlint that she found it to, and be desired her to go on playing. She complied, aud he returna£ to his study. She played on and on, giving herself up to the pleasure of the music she was making, so as to be almost unconscious of the presence of the, mute listeni- q figure in the adjoining room. When she hail been playing for nearly half an hour, the external door ef the drawingroom opening into ihe hnll was cautiously pushed a lew inches aj.ir, and the face of isusan, the housemaid, appeared at it for a moment unseen. Abiief glance sufficed to show her Mrs Dixon at the piano, the door of c- mmunication open, aud the curtain drawn back. She could not see Mr Clint, but fche sui mised that be was there, and going out by the aide door, she peeped through one of the windows of the study from th© outside, and satisfied herself of the fact. Then she hastened to relate this portent to Mis Eitchie, who received it with provoking indifleience. She had taken her cut fi om' Miriam's letter, and her resolution from the instiuciions of Mr Martin. 'You mind your own business Susan, and leave Mrs Dixon to mind heis,' she said 10 the satellite. 'She knows what she's about ' 'Idare say she does,' muttered Susan, indignant at 4 being snubbed on Mrs Dixon 'a account : ' indeed I ha^ no doubt of it. But I wonder whether Mrs St Quentin knows what she is about? I d«*i't think she can, or she would remember there's more old fools than one in the world.' Frotr> that day forth Florence was summoned to the drawing-room every afternoon to play on the piano for Mr Clint's delectation. Mr Martin was made acquainted with this newly fornd resource for his patient, who required his services still more frequently jib the days went by. They brought some improv eroent in Mr Clint's spirits, and temper; indeed all the inmates at the Fits badl*^) much reason to congratulate themselves on the influence^ which Mrs Dixon exerted, that small jealousies gave way. to the s '.length of self-interest, But they could all se» that the sullen and imperious master of tfie Firs was ill^~ and suffering ; they could all trace in his features, at one*, bloated and wasted, in tbe increasing shapelessness of bis figure, and the listlessness which was growing rippn him, until all his life became a mere desultory loitering, th* , slow poisoning of his besetting sin, Against that nothing

was strong ; he toulil ke^p his temper under, with Mr Martin's threat? of the-'*possible risulfc of letting it loost> in his ears, but he oould not keep fiom drink. The demon Lad got hold of him sucuiely loug ago, and hia gripe was not to be loose>u d. Floieuce told Miriaai a'l the tiuth. The alienated daughter learned it ill with a sincere and decent son o\v, but without the keen a^ony which it must h.ive caused her had she love;l her fath.-r. Miriam did "ot suffer distance and sepsnt'o i to delude her ; her former home was not one whit less distasteful to her in memory than it had been in fact ; her lather's character was in no degree less odious. She had only begun to doubt whether she had exchauged for the better, whether the had not accepted a more wearing sl.ivjry. In one respect she could not deceive heiself — the preseat one was incomparably taoie degrading. ' I c.mnot come to you,' she wrote to Florence in every letter; * he is unmanageable on that point, and I have too much at stake to take the altern itive he offeis me. <> Floi\ nee, how I hate him ! lam almost afraid to think how I hate him !' So the time «ent on. and each day made Floience more useful to her husband's father, and more poueiful with him Mr Martin told her the was like the shepherd of the tribe of Judah, who dimmed the evil spint out cf Kin^ Saul

The greatest cataract in the world is the falls of Xiagara, where the water from the great upper lake forms a hut ol three fourths of a mile in width, and then, being suddenly contracted, plunges over the rocks in two columns to the depth of 175 feet. The greatest eav>> in the world is the Mum moth Cave of Kentuekey, where any one can make a voyage on the waters of a subtemneun river, and catch fi\h wiMiout e\es. The greatest river in the known world is the Mississippi, 4000 miles long. The largest valley in the worl lis the valley of the Mississippi. It contains 500,000 square miles, nnrl is one of the most fertile regions of ihe globe The gicatp«t city park in the world is in Philadelphia It contains over 3,000 acres. The greatest grain poit in tin* world is Chichago. The largest lake in the world >s L-\ke Superior, which is truly nn inland *ea, be>ng 430 mi'es long and 1,000 feet deep. The longest railroad at present is the Pacific Railroad, over 3,000 miles in length. 'Ihe greatest mass of solid iron in the world is the Iron Mountain of Missouri. It is 350 feet high, and two miles in circuit. The best specimen of Grecian architecture in the world is the Girsml College for Orphans, Philadelphia. The largest aqueduct in the world is the Ooton Aqueduct, New Yo'-k. Its length is 40J miles, and it cost 12,500,000 dollars. The largost deposits of anthracite coal in the world are in Pennsylvania, the mines of which suDply the market with millions annually, and appear to be inexhaustible. — Engineer. Housekeepers will be surprised to learn tli.it lluir custom of sending in to a neighbour to borrow a little butter or sugar, or other article* of diet, is quite common among the sa\ ages of the Fiji. When a lady in Fiji has some friends to dinner unexpectedly, she coes over to the woman ncioss the way, and si**, " Yak kok and his family have ,iu>t dropped in to dine, and I haven't a thing in the hou-e. How rlo aou think yojr hir d girl would work up in a «tew ? dm I borrow her fora few d ivs 9 " Then she seizes that domrs'ie by the hair, and drags her over, chops her up with pai'<lpv, and enrr it«. and celery tops, and cloves, and lets lier simmer over the fire O • mnv bo the oilier nninnn sends over and «ay«. " I'm entirely out of meat ; can >ou len 1 me your little William H n"v for a lm«h, or your Mary Jane for a pie 9 " And over go William Henry and Mary Jane and they n re stuck with a iork and basted, an r l put on to cook gently and fie debt is pud off the next week by the borrower .'ending back her aunt, all ready boiled, a»d suitable for cutting down cold for tea, or one of her #in« corned so as to make a nice lunch. Sometimes a woman in this manner will woik off a couple of inothor>-in-law, or a rich uncle, or a plump second cousin, and limn she will sit at her window, and sniff them as they are cooking in the kitchen next door, or watch one of the comp ny in the dining room nibbling at the elbovr of her late hired girl. The cu s tom seems to us an excellent one, j articularly when it is applied to hired girls. We have had girls whom we would hnve loaned to a neighbour at nn v time under a solemn promise that they should be butchered and boiled as quickly as poss'b c. — Americnn paper. Siv the special correspon lent of the Melbourne Argus: — " A Fijian planter on''c gave mp the following nero nit of liow he wns once planed in n painful position ; — ' One of mv foreign labourers caTe to me one day, and asked me if I would be angry if he ate all the mountaineer he kille'l. Of co irse I wanted thpm all killed and eaten, but heing a C'irishin, and feeling that as a repres n nfitive of civil sation and culture it was mv dufv to maintain my position as the super or of this untutorpd savage, so a* to bo in some sort an example to him and his countrymen, I gnve him dishretlv ti undnrstan I that, if he chose to amuse himself by sho 'tin;!, all mountaineers \y'»o appeared upon my estate, he must be careful that he did not cat them in my presence.' " A remark'ible cisc of extensive poisoning occurred lately at Blackburn It seems that a quantity of arscniate of soda, which wm purchased some spven years ago by a mill-owner for the purpose of miring with the size employed in the preparation of linen cloths, but which was not used because it was asserted that it would be prejudicial to the health of the work-nciple. was recently thrown nmon» the nshe* taken from the boiler house. Tlipsc as'ie* were subsequently carted away, and used in the formitmn of fiot-piths. The ar-*eni ate, a white substance somewhat resembling sa'fc, attracted the attention of anunher of children, and thirty or morp commenced to «uck it, were «oon «'.iffei f ing from sickeess and diarrhoea Two children died in consequence. An auctioneer was conducting a ->ale of household furniture la*, ly. and amongst, the articles offered were some good pictures One of thesp — a landscape — he described as representing the park and mansion of Lord Blank, in Blanks'lire An elderly and pompons gentleman, well known in the, mercantile world, undertook the correction cf the auction er H>\ the speaker, demurred to the stitement, tint it was Lord Blink's place; in f.iet, he was quite sure about the matter — he hid oftpn been there himself — he knew its appearance wpll. "Ah! but," said the auctioneer, " perlmps you went in the back way." The sale wasn't interrupted azn-in — Mgles. Lizi'y gazing at the fearful and wonderful outcome of photographic art displayed in an operator's s'iow-case, my attention was drawn to a portrait of Governor Bowen bv an old gentleman who remembers Sir Q-'orge-'s fat'ipr 50 years ago. Said my venerable compnnion, looking at the picture, "He has nice eves; 1 ' 'when, from behind us, came this, interjected by a grea a v-looking person of the loafer persuasion, " his eves. He's got iv nice salary." Which was more pertinent than polite — JEgtes.