CHAPTER XXXVI. .

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1619, 18 November 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXXVI. .

" What do' you ..think ,of "Shuter.?" . «aidf Waltei? to me as vtsdvqvehyiky* { i/'-vv* ' ; ' ; y?^

Shu tor sub-edits the Ceiitiiiij. But what 1 wanted to tell you was, that lie is an admher of the pietty little Quakeress you've got at Cintra." "What— Miss Stone?" "Yes, Ruth Stone; and Rnth Stone, I nndeistand, is no way unfavourable to his suit." " And her father ?" I asked. "Oh, her father likes Shu ter well enough personally, but he has got an old piejudice against literary men as a class. He says theirs is a lying profession !" "Pooh ! he must be thinking of lawyers." " Not a bit of it ! — he has even a worse opinion of them. All this I have leaint from Shuter, who will not, I suppose, be able to see anything of the demure little Ruth now. Cintra thus contains two ladies who are beyond the reach of their true knights !" added Walter, with a laugh and a sigh, — " but this knight, for one, is not going to despair. You will come with me next week to see the Cup run, I suppose.' 1 " Yes," I answered, noticing at the same time, the association of his hopes with the great lace — " I will come, of coiuse, but I wish you would not build so much on that event. You've never told me the name of this wondeiful daik horse, that is to make your foitune." "Well, I'll tell you now — in confidence, of come : it's Isandula, one of Jardine's hoiaes." "Isandula," I lepeated — "an ominous name, Walter !" "Ominous? oh, you're thinking of that affair with the Kaffirs. Pooh !— there's nothing in that." " I don't say there is, ' I answered," but I would rather the important animal, had boine a less inauspicious name. Is "King of the South" still first favourite?" " Yes ; he holds his place in the betting, as fiim as a rock. What a crash it will be when he is defeated?" " I don't like to see you so confident, Walter;" I said "you may be preparing a crash for yourself !" But the ovei -sanguine Walter only laughed. The Cup could set matters light with him, he said, and the Cup should set them right ! A blight ilush rose upon Euth Stone's fair cheek, when, next morning, I incidentally mentioned Sliutei, as having been at the party at M'Phun's. The blue eyes stole a switt glance at me, and then dropped demurely towards her coffee-cup. " Ah, Shuter is the light man, then !" I said to myself, "As far as the lady herself is concerned, at least. A precious rival he has got in that vulgar scoundrel, Harrison !" " Shuter?" said the Count. " Let me see— I was introduced to a man of that name, at a meeting of the Victorian Royal Society. A liteiary man, I think; tall, with a light moustache." " The same," I answeied. " What is his branch of literature, do you know ?" " Oh, he's only sub-editor of a newspaper!" "I like not that deprcciative 'only,' my fiiend," said the Count, beginning thoughtfully to pace the room. "It is curious that people are so prone to undervalue the greatest of all the aits. ' Scribe,' 'scribbler,' ' hack,' and so on, are terms that often come very glibly from the tongues of men, who lack the ability necessaiy to make a thiid-rate ' scribblei.'" " You call literature the greatest of all the arts," I said ; " I cannot agiee with you there !" "l'eihaps I should better have expressed my meaning," leturned the Count, " it I had called it the most final and comprehensive of them. Other arts have their origin and basis in the mind of man— the literary art is the direct leflex of that mind itself. It is, in a sense, too, the substitute for, and the reproduction of, all other arts. A noble building, a lino painting, or a grand piece of sculptuie would have no existence lor the man who had never seen it, were not the literary art able to present it to him in a subjective form. Then, but for the intercommunication of ideas, what would man's existence be worth ? and Avhat is literature but a method of communication which sets time and distance at defiance— which brings us into dhect contact with the minds of other ages, as it docs with the thought of our own time all the world over? In a word, so impressed am I with the importance and dignity of a calling which is the immediate vehicle of that intelligence upon which all other pursuits depend for their very existence, that I hesitate to speak with disparagement of its most humble votary." " But you are not going to deny," I said, " that a superficial thinker may write glibly enough, while a profounder one may have a smaller gift of expression." " Far from it ; but if the latter does not find some adequate means of expression, how can it ever be known that he is a profound thinker? He has either to remain uncomprehended, or take advantage of the ability of somebody else to tianslate his ideas into fitting words. My experience, however, is that the man who writes really well is never a man of inferior mental power. Without consideiable intellectual capacity and development, there cannot exist that nice discrimination between approximate shades of meaning, that keen perception of the relative values of terms, and that accurate estimation of the adequacy of the expression to the tmpression, which must unite to constitute a good writer, as distinguished from a merely grammatical one." " But all this applies to speaking as much as to writing." " Certainly," admitted the Count ; " and speaking and writing are, for the purposes of many arguments, the same thing. But, litcra bcrijda manet, you know ; while the spoken word dies at its birth, the written word may live for thousands of years, or may travel for thousands of mile's." " Well, Count, the literary folk ought to be obliged to you for your defence of their profession. It has many enemies— from those in high places who would strangle, if they could, the Press, down to those who ignorantly think that bodily labour is more honourable or more arduous than mental." " There is really no question of greater or less honour in the matter," was the reply — " if people would but look at it in its true light. All honest employments are worthy of equal respect, as interdependent factors in the great social problem." " But you don't expect to convert the world to that doctrine ? " said Paola. "Certainly not, my dear," returned her father ; " humanity will make it's social distinctions to the end of time. -Still, I think a more general recognition of the theory would remove much absurd misconception as to the relative importance of the various kinds of world's work." " I have' heard my father say," put in the quiet voice of Ruth Stone, " that those are no friends of the working-man who woulcL persuade him that he is the only important member of society. My father, as perhaps thou : knowest, hath been himself a working, man, so that he speakeih without prejudice.' "All men are— or ought to be—workingmen,'^ returned" the Count ; " but I suppose you? father referred' to the manual labourer, the modern tendency to exalt .whom is easily .explainable^. ;It i is the return-swing^ of- the -p*6iM^rum,of 'dpinion.'frpm the time' when tbiL ;nu£nVf wholh W rought,; ! lwith- his /hands- was.

ot the literary profession than mine, ' said lluth to Paola. "Does your father disapprove of it, then?" " Yea, he saith that to write for the press, is to mislead the public, and to write iiction is to write lies !', " That is an extreme view of the case, certainly," said Paola. "It Is not, Mr, Raymond ?" " Yes," I replied ; " and one which I should not have expected from Mr. Stone, judging from what I have seen ot him." "He saith, moieover," went on lluth, " that mere-word spinning is not to be called work." "Do you agree with him ?" I asked, somewhat maliciously. The little maiden shook her head. "I am but a girl," she said, " and judge not well of such matters, but I think that, as mankind is governed by opinion, tbe recording and directing of that opinion cannot be consideied an unworthy employment.' '• Why, you are quite a little philosopher !" said Paola. " "Why didn't you help to discuss the question just now ?" "Nay, it becometh not a maiden to say much before those who are older and wiser than herself." Paola laughed. " I fear that would bo strange doctrine in the ears of a good many Australian maidens," she said. " But the Count would be pleased to hear you ; he says young women with rational opinions aro scarce." " With regard to literary men, Miss lluth," I said, " perhaps your father's acquaintance with them is limited. Does he know any ?" " Yea— nay— that is, yea !" returned the Quakeress, hesitating and blushing, in a way that made Paola look at her in astonishment. " He knoweth the Sharpe Shuter, of Avhom thou didst speak just now. Think not" — she added, hastily — " that I call the young man by his first name out of familiarity ; it is but the usage of our people, wherefoie I beg thee also to call me lluth." "By all means Miss lluth, I mean. But I think Mr. Shuter a very good fellow, and I have no doubt your father will modify his opinions in the couise of time." The girl undeistood, and gave me a grateful glance, as the blush again rose on her cheek. " lluth's affections are evidently seriously concerned," I said to myself, and Paola looks mightly mystified, but I have no doubt the whole story Avill be confided to hei, befoie many hoius have passed.