THE CIRCUS AT SQUATTY'S.

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1571, 29 July 1882, Page 5

THE CIRCUS AT SQUATTY'S.

No person, who vibited Squatty's would over imagine that a tragedy could occur there, so unromantio were the surrounds ings, from Squatty himself to the landscape. Anything more ordinary and prosaic, man never saw. In the early days, Squatty had been a shepherd on the banks of the Bungeljobjork Creek, feeding his flock on the dreary plains of pand that stretched on either side, diversified hero and there with stunted timber. The red gum trees on the river banka alone looked anything like respectable. When gold was found in other places, Squatty began to look about him, and discovered that the precious metal was to be found in the bed of the creek. So he sunk a hole while his sheep camped in the middle of the day, and was rewarded with a fair prospect. He at onoo wont to the station, and told old Sandy M'Gripper, the squatter, that he would see him in a place where ulsters would be unsuitable, if he would herd tho sheep any longer. And such was the scarcity of men at that time, when the gold fovor was at its height that Sandy, who had been a Highland shepherd, hud to turn, out and herd the flock himself. Squatty^ could not long keep the secret to himself ; the place was soon rushed. But Squatty was equal to tho occasion. Having got together a fairish amount of gold, he thouaht the best plan would bo to wive up hardwotk and start a store. Whoever made money ho would. So Squatty's store became tho great place of tho diggings, and its proprietor waxed wealthy, while the diggers became poor. One end of the building was devoted to grogselling, the other to trading in everything, from a needle to an anchor. Squatty was so-called from his personal appearance, which resembled that of a a thousand-pounds turtle, with a " gammy," or lamo leg. lie had no neck to speak of, but an immense bullet-head. IH-formed and ill-favoured as ho was, however, ho possessed, like all men of his build, immense strength, and the wildest roan on tho field never dare kick up a row in hia bar ; if ho did, ho soon found himso in tho load, without time for reflection. Sqatty was a married man, having taken to himself one of the shepherds' daughters, before the gold-dream had dazzled Victoria. And now ho had one child, a girl of sixteen, who did not, thank heaven, in the least resemble tho selfish, avaricious old monster. Sho had never been away from Bungeljubjork, or as it was always called, in pity for people's jaws, Squatty'.s, And there the poor girl had dreamed her life away, reading novels, and picturing to herself what lay beyond her own dreary sandy world. A very pretty girl was Eliza Dent (Squatty's proper name), a brunette, with dreamy eyes, that could melt, or flash, as the mood demanded. Self-willed, she was, and no wonder, for she was worshipped by her father, and allowed to do as she pleased — She was tho "lady" of tho diggings. She had a sitting-room of her own, in which was a grand piano. Her accomplishments were her father's pride, and there was not a visitor of any note to whom be did not show them off. Grasping, cruel, Heartless, domineering to all who were not so well off as himself, Squatty was gentle as a child to his daughter. He dreaded, yet was proud of, her. And as she would be heiress to a snug property, most in ready money, Squatty looked to sco her married to a squatter at the least. As for the youthful diggers, or station hands, who had nothing but stalwart frames , and good looks to recommend them, Squatty drove them ,away, and took care they should not aspire to the "lady." t At sivteen, when the ,blood of youth begins to seethe with passion, Eliza was like a caged bird, and often thought of running away,' and leaving what she called- the '" detestable : hole."- She ,had no companion. Squatty v allowed' no young, men to approach ber^, *]S|"o-. wonder,she rebelled. Yo.uth-mus^have^been' the^ company ;of- yoiith: A^S^e lia£ one, dream,- but^it' h'ad^pjB§e / %a'\yayV i? J^tt 1 the , £a, rar^Ojuatomerj^r^he^snec^aU^ma^ipur?

playing Beethoven and Mendelsohn on the grand. Some doubted this, but Mrs O'Gorman, who was taking delivery of the washing 1 , was prepared to take her "davy upon it, and the gossips could therefere only conclude that Sandy was about to launch upon the adventurous sea of matrimony for the fourth time. He was a rich widower, without children. Himself and Squatty held private orgies, and seemed the dearest of friends. Summer was at its close, and business was veiy dull at Squatty 's, mainly because "water was scarce for washing 1 up. A happy idea struck the " boss." A thirdrate circus was at that timo playing at Sandhurst, and was reported to be doing bad business. Squatty, whose career, prior to his advert in Australia, was hid under a cloud, knew the owner of this circus. They had been fellow stableboys in London. There had not been a circus at Squatty's sinco the first rush, and ho now thought that this was a chance to do a stroke. A good deal of selection had taken place on the sandy plains, and he felt sure if the circus came the farmers who had just finished threshing, would come in to bee the circus. He would thereforo have ono day's real good business, and be able to clear out his " blendu," while the board of the circus people, and the keep of the horses, would bo all profit. Therefore, Squatty took his nag, and drove to Sandhurst. He saw " Lame "Bill," the proprietor of the circus, and that gentleman and he soon came to terms. Lame Bill's circus was compofeod of all tho broken-down professionals, with some raw hands, who, fascinated by the glitter of tho spangles, agreed to do their best for stable-boys' wages. Squatty rode back with the "advance agent," a shabby genteel gentleman, whose nose proclaimed his fondness for "blends," who carried with him the bills. Next day ihero was a profound sensation at Squatty's. The fences and tho trees were coveied with pobters, in Brobdignagian wood-letters/interspersed with marvellous woodcuts, representing lightly clothed ladies and gentlemen performing fabulous feasts. One of these showed a lady springing through a few hundred hoops, and cherubs just seen through the clouds applauding her. There were outs of all kinds of marvellous animals, blooks which had been brought from the last groat circus that had visited the colonios. These bills formed on excuse for the population assembling in the bars, and discussing whether tho circus would bo equal to the wood-cuts. The young believed that implicity, but the hardened onep, who began to tell about the " successes" they'd seen, shook their heads, and said they'd never bo "took in" by " them lyin' things." In the meantime the " blends " circulated, and Squatty was happy, and felt confident ho would clear a hundred out of the spec. On Saturday the waggon arrived, containing a grisled dusty lot of men and women, whose appearances was far from prepossessing. They were headed by a band waggon, wherein throe or four horn players almost worked thamselveß into an apoplexy, the gontleman with the serpent especially, while a lad of ten belabored a cracked drum as if his life depended upon it. All the population had turned out, they had nothing else to do, and great was the triumph of the hardened ones, who pointed out the absence of the elephants, and the camels, and the giraffes. Iho proprietor, so like Squatty that some said they were brothers, apologised for this by saying that it would not pay to bring the full oircus to Squatty's, but, for all that, they'd have the " valley " of their money. Above all things, said Mr William Walker, as ho held up a glass of " blend " in the bar, his was "a morril 3how as wimming and childring and parsings could seo." Tho fact, indeed, was duly pointed out in the posters, tho headings of which ,ran —

" walker's moral oiitous." If tho majority of Mr Walker's people looked a beery, washed out lot, there wpi-o two who did not como under that catogory, and who at onoe attraotod tho attention of all. One entranced the men, tho other took the women by storm. There could be no mistaking the lady. She was Spanish. Lithe in form as a panther, graceful as tho tigress, the Senoiifca Theodora possessed a beauty that to tho Saxons at Squatty '& was a revelation. Her complexion was rich olive, through which a tinge of carnation showed in her cheeks, her hair dark as night, her features bewitehingly lovely. But in hor eyos lay her power. Bark and flashing, those large orbs conquered at a glance. She was dressed far beyond tho others, and rich jewellery, displayed in tho best taste, oxactly suited to her beauty, scintillated on her person. An exquisite emerald glittered on her finger. How came she to be with Walker's circus, everyone asked? The explanation was simple enough. She was a Brazilian, and had been picked up and trained by the great Braziliau circus proprietor, -who had. recently done the tour of the colonies. Theodora had a temper, m had Senor . A fierce quancl took place. and sho left him. Walker' b circus was then humbly doing the suburbs of Melbourne, and tho &enoiifca went to see it. That night decided her fato. Tho proud, passionate, sonsual woman, who could almost command her own price in the capitals of the world, joined the circus. Love, such a wile mad passion as conquers the children of the sun, had her in its chains. Tho youth who so tenderly helped her out of tho waggon explained all. Slightly above the middle height, David Marson was as beautiful a man as she was a woman. Even hia somewhat ungainly clothes could not conceal the beauty of his proportions, the sinewy graco of his plastic limbs. Brown curly locks covored his well shaped head, and nestled upon his broad white brow. But perhaps his great charm lay in his singularly handsome, mild, amiable face, his kindly manly brown, ejes^ He was bo gentle, yet so manly, so simple and tmaffeofced, yet fo self-reliant, that no one could but love him. What a contrast he presented to the fiery beauty who leant so heavily upon him, whose lambent eyes seemed to dovour Mm with a fierce mad passion I "Bless me," said one of the loungers, "If that ain't our old Dave. , Ain't he growed now — he looks like a piefcer. Who'd ha' thought he'd ha' taken to Buccussing ?" ".He allays was fond of hosses," re-,plied-the other.- " But I bet there'll be a, ■row, for old Squatty gave him the sack as groom and, general useful, because he s .thought Miss 'Liza was sweet on him!" ' i- f " Why," -said ,the -other,> ,*{ Everyone iWas * t sweet v Djwl. . the r pleafsantestjiteajre^ -alive? iuPVit faoefl^ohe ? Sood*> toiloolcJ at.

finding this out dismissed him, and sent after him threats that if he again showed hia face on the creek, he would be— well, we had better not quote Squatty too faithfnlly. And now Squatty found his cup of joy dashed to the ground when he saw the youth again. He took instant alarm. But when he saw, no one could miss that, that he seemed to be Theodora's husband, ho felt at ease, especially as Dave made no sign of wishing to see Eliza. But she had seen him, and a quick glance had passed between them, which unfortunately did not escape Theodora, whoso face flushed. She wore a jewelled poinard in her belt, and her hand went towards it instinctively. Squatty was too busy until late to look after anything but t|ie bar. In the afternoon, however, ho . received a message from the senorita. He was a man of evil passions, and the first look be had obtained at her had stirred up feelings that long had lain dormant. Resigning the bar to his helper, after having cleared the till, he wont to a back parlor where the haughty Brazilian wasreclining languidly on a sofa. She half roso when ho entered, and fixed her eyes upon him, Squatty was not observant, but he saw clearly that she had been crying. Her perfumed handkerchief in her hand was wet. " Bring mo some brandy quick," she said, " the best;, none of your bad stuff." Squatty, his heart palpitating, went down the cellar and brought up a bottle that had not been doctored. The beautiful Brazilian poured out a glassful and drank it off. The liquor seemed to restore her. She sat up, the blood suffused her cheeks, a fearful light gleamed in her eyes. "I know you well," she said, looking him fall in the face. " You are, you have been a bad man. Oh, no, don't talk — Walker told me— l know what you are by your face. Do you know lam mad ! mad ! mad !" , „ Squatty did not know .what to say. He glanced hungrily at the, superb woman. Never had he seen beauty jso entrancing. Her yery rage made i -her, , irresistible. Gradually she withdrew her eyes, and fell back upon, the sofa. The tiger mood passed away, and the lovely creature began to sob hysterically. This was succeeded by a dreamy mood, during which Bhe tapped the .sofa with her fan, and sung in a low tone snatches of an old Castilian love song. " Ardo y ]loro sin sosicgo : Llorundo y ;irdicndo tanto, Sue no cl Llanto apajra cl fucgo, c il fuego consume cl ll.mto '" " Yes, yes, she murmured, " how truo, how true" — " Ne il fuego consume el llanto !" " Pah ! this will not do : it is childish." "I am a Brazilian ; I will be revengod." She took another glass of brandy. Then she rose, dilating, and poized Squatty' s hand. A thrill ran through his body ; a fire seemed to havo been kindled in his heart, " Listen Eenglese," she said or hissed. " You have a daughter. She loved your servant, and I loved him too ; Oh ! how I loved him. I threw aside all for him. I thought he loved me. But he does not ; he loves your child. They are to meet in the garden at twilight. Will you come and listen to what they say ? You don't want him to marry your daughter — I do not." " The M'retch," cried Squatty, " I hate him. He shan't have my daughter. I'll kill him first." " Good, good," cried the Brazilian. " They are to meet at twilight, I tell you. If he casts me off I will avenge you. A Brazilian never forgives." " Why care for him ?" said Squatty, endeavoring in hia rude way to clasp the girl to his broad breast. "Let us drive him away, and you can stop here as— as my wife.." She disengaged herself, and laughed a clear, musical, but malicious laugh, ending in a kind of hysterical sob. Her reason seemed giving way. " Not now," she suid. " I must hear him east mo off— then. Why," she added, looking at her uncouth admirer, " one would think you were a Spaniard, you love so suddenly. But you don't look like one." And, glancing over his ugly figure, she laughed again that demoniacal laugh. " You are so beautiful," he said, with a ludicrous attempt at ogling. "lam rich. But how do you know they are to meet us to-night ?" " Trust a jealous uoman," she replied. " I saw their eyes meet when we arrived. One of the men is my slave ; he would die for a glance. 1 set him to watch. At twilight come and bring me to a spot close to the big apple-tree, their old trysting place, ha, ha !" The drowsy hum of evening filled the world when Squatty and Theodora glided down the garden and took tip their station in a bush formed of cherry saplings that had been allowed to grow into a thicket. Theorloi a was fearfully exciter! ; her face was flushed, and when they took their station, she clutched her companion's hand with a graip that almost made him cry out. It wad not long before they heard foot.sfceps on the gravel. Then there was was silence, succeeded by alow sound. " He is kissing her," hissed the Brazilian. " 0, Dios !" "Hush !" whispered her companion. Presently voices were heard ; loav at first, but gradually becoming loud enough for Lhe listeners to hear. " You love me still, you say," said Eliza, " then how about this woman ?" " I detest her as much as I can detest a fellow being," said Dave earnestly. " She is my evil genius. Since she first saw me she has not left me alone one moment. I will get away from her. I own two of the horses, Eliza. To night, when all are asleep, we will mount them and ride off, when neither she nor your father can follow." Squatty felt his hand so tightly gripped that he almost roared. He heard his companion hiss through her teeth "MadrediDios !" •'Oh, Dave," replied Eliza, *' I am so frightened, and yet I love you so much that 1 will go. Anything is better than to live here. You will not deceive me ? You do hate that Spanish woman !" " As much as I can hate,?' he,* replied. " Goclhelp her.poor cr'6atnre. Be ready at one o'clock i all will be- asleep' then. , How I have waited for this chance." * , "Come,"- « whispered Theodora „_toj Squatty, "If I stay here any longer I yfill killthem."';- „-> ? ?,". > •'* V; .■> They' stobd*;lonce r more iin.;thevJittle; parlor, pompanion,' ( half afraid,: half aarniringly. iHTever^hadf 'h'eseen<any, cr6atkfre^tor|superb 3 ( sp<fearv jful;. ;*s£\ r- Xfl-J, ;/&^%l> c v* ' U.Y^-'\ %^T^jght'J^ ( s|ie^di;injSiTange^erpentJ

tone so peculiar to her, . > "you will&sef'd what a Brazilian will do to.avenge hejfi3 self. And you, too, will be made, .Bafeif Leave me now. Stop I Tell Walker^fp send me Juan." , • .■- \'t\S n'riS^ Juan, a lithe Brazilian, was- oloeetedj with Theodora until it was time bp<dreiB^| The circus was a great success, i , The\| agriculturists, glad of some, relief .fjoiM horrible monotony, had flocked; from i.^f parts, and there WiWs not ( a tree to w.hiojttf a horse wasnot tied. People could hardlyj move in Squatty's bar. Mr Walker'^faceii^ broad with smiles as he stood in the.van^ selling tickets, for which the demand wajsjl enormous, the naphtha lamp showing thef exultation in his countenance. k ?,'4^ boomer," said Walker toi the lady,: whoy had chargo of the cash box. , < r . i J,ft« "S The building was packed to the ceiling i by a rustic audience. There was a/very ~| small dress-circle, but it was full^M-ThaU best dressed, the, best .looking woman | there was Eliza, who never, looked *i"ao^ well. Her face was flushed with/pleasure/^ albeit crossed now and then . with, doubt f and apprehension, . ri»j »• -"." The programme was of the < ordinary M kind. It opened with a cavalcade., ; And then Senorita Theodora appeared amid t a tempest of applause. Never had, the simple diggers and farmers seen such an apparition of beauty, beauty so different -; to their ordinary standard. The lithe, ~ sinuous figure, of Mich voluptuous suggear I tivenesS, the dark handsome face, roses shining through olive, the brilliant, flash- - ing eyes that seemed to stiike right to the j heart. Squatty never took, his eyes, off „ the superb beauty. He was fascinated ,aa ' , if by a serpent. , . ,t „, -,; As she paused before springing upon < her horse she bent her. eyes upon , Eliza. , What a contrast. The flaxen .haired, snow-skinned Saxon, the dark, i fiery Latin, with Indian blood in her veins. A dark malignant soowl for a moment destroyed the perfect beauty of Theodpra's face. She was succeeded by Dave, who sprang into the arena, looking like a young god: -. Clothed so as to display to perfection hiq J beautfful form in all its willowy grace, t his sweet face irradiated with the flush of ' excitement, there was not a female heart • tbat did not throb when he appeared. Even the men looked at him with that pleasure that perfect beauty when ooujoined with the most hmiable qualities always inspires. , „, " God bless his young face," said the oldest man on the settlement, eighty at least, " he's as good as , he's handsome." " Did you see the Spaniard when Dave went on ?" asked one circua employe*, at the entrance, of another. "I did," was the reply, " .and she looked like a devil. What's up ?" So the performance went , on, and everyone was pleased. The " morril succuss" was a success. One of the great features that came on late was a three-horse act by Dave. He began by placing a foot on each of the outside horses. As they got into full career he leaped upon the animal in the centre. His feet came upon the surcingle. What followed no one could clearly tell. The centre horse gave, a terrible plunge, the horses sped madly round the arena. Dave lay on the sawdust. A rush was made to him. The first at his side, disregarding the maddened horses, was Eliza. He , was borne out to the tent, and tho only medical man on the diggings attended him. It was useless. His neck had been broken. There in the flare of the naphtha lamps lay the fair young form, lately so full of life and love — dead. There is no Squatty's now. The diggers have gone, and but for the neglected shafts no one would know there had been a mining camp. Fields of wheat wave where the circus stood. A little cemetery on the hill alone shows men lived and died there in the past. And over one grave there is a column bearing'the name of David Marson. Eliza did not die. She lives now, and is married, but she never forgets the darling who gained her heart in the summer of life . After his death her life was in danger for weeks, but she lived on to once more face the cold and bleak woi'ld. But Squatty dicrl, died of remorse and drink. For he knew the Brazilian serpent had compasbed the death of tlic lad. Juan bad placed something sharp under the surcingle and that had made the horse buck. Had that not been successful she would have found other means to take his life. A year after this a circus-rider appeared in Europe who took the jcuneaae dorco by storm, and who became the favourite of a groat Hungarian prince. Yet everyone*"* 1 agreed she never appeared happy. ; SJje' led a life of feverish excitement foi a|rew years, and then was found in her hotel in Paris dead. She had poisoned herself. People wondered that she held in her hand tho photograph of ' a splendidly handsome Jail, in circus 'dress. It was ccitainly not the prince, though he was haniUoine enough. On a scrap of paper was written — "Ne il fuego consume el llanto. Sue rests inPeie la Chaise he on the de.viteil goldtield. , ■ > A brawl took place in a Paris cafe shortly after her death, and a -Spaniard was stabbed mortally. It was Juan. He confessed all to the priest. And such is the world, amid its strange medley of snubs and tears, of pity and pa ssion .

" C-0-l-o-k-s," said a ' Sunday -School boy, slowly spelling it out — " coat of manycollais — why did it have so many collars, teacher ?So they could lift him out of the well easy ?"' Moribund husband (to aesthetic wife) "Well Jennie, the doctor says I must soon leave you. Do you grieve t I have provided handsomely for yott iti my will. You will keep my lnemory green, Won't you my love ?" /Esthetic wife (sobbing)— •'Dearest, I w.ill ; and I will'see that your grave iskept green also (reflectingly), but not one of those horricTbriglit colors. A nice olive-gray green, with an old-gold tombstone, will look too awfully lovely for anything." The new pure cash system now being nttiatcd by Cx. and C. will crtamly pro'vo a benefit to the public. It has, been a. great succest in Sydntvy, (and Melbourne, and when strictly caVried put the customer who buys at an cstabl'rshmcrit' where the goods are marked low to ensure a rapid sale must be a 'great gainer. G.,and C. sell their drapery, millinery, and clothing at such prices for cash as gives the buyer the advantages of a shareholder in a co-operative society, without the rislo6f being called upon to bear a portion of the loss should the gear's business prov^ v unsatisfactory, Garlick ,andCranwell will aim to " retain , the conjSdence which the public have ' hitherto shown tftcrnt, dnd are determined to give thei pure'eash .system a ifair trial; whsther,th<fyjrainor lose, the firsqyear sQbuntry buyers on remitting: cash with opdci dfill "be supplied wth'gooas at' co-operatve' prices ; *jiist the same as though* lh'ey iriaae'apersoWalte4e'ction.( Eurnishin^s goods, 'suclitfa^caraetSj .floor ," dogiji; ,b«dstcad S , testing f a^d^generai - 1 , house furnitufe/the largest portion, of, whicli is •■ , ituraed^ouratoWown^flctbry^will^marSicaSat -^ r 'thel6westfemunera}jv6.prices,itndia^dii|(9Jintqf „>, 'fn^peßce>t.^tt#o,^llo|fcd tow^efeft'BSt ilf, -%$ te timefltpulcnpe^Gi'aMCfMwgffWalKed, «A, 'c entireialSCpf flicft' stSclf 'di^^thM/tfatß . &h^lel%e'p^HPibck<lJf^it**A.«feH^i'i^^ fßOU&OT^£nrtnCTeTotfoflvin^^