CHAPTER I.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 1887, 9 August 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER I.

Philtp Pektfold was a very methodical man ; so, when he got off his horse and gave him to the groom, he walked up to the house and carefully deposited his thistle-hoe in one corner of the verandah before going into the bath-room to have a wash, as a preliminary to having his dinner. It might naturally be asked why a man who lived in auch a fine house, and who owned so much property, and who was altogether Buoh a very icarm man, financially, as Mr. Philip Penf old was, should take the trouble to cut hia own thistles. The answer to this question is deep down in the mental and physical constitution of our hero, and is likely to remain unanswered, as it is very doubtful if even Philip himself could furnish a solution of the conundrum. Suffice it that Mr. Penfold did take a certain satisfaction in cutting his own thistles and all othor kinds of objectionable weeds. Not that he undertook the task alone. His property had, of course, a proper staff of men for the purpose as all properly constituted stations have. But whenever Philip went out on the ran he took his thistle-hoe with him. It -was not difficult to carry, and there was a certain inward satisfaction in the idea of doing gome useful work while he was going out on the run to see if the windmills were working all right, and that the water troughs and ball-valves were supplying his live stock with water in a continuous and liberal manner... Besides, when carrying hia thistle-hoe and using it occasionally, he had the feeling which is so gratifying to all of ua (and which we probably derive as an hereditary impulse from our savage ancestora, if our pride will not allow us to go so far back as the anthropomorphous apes), the consciousness, namely, of being able to kill something. (Not, that Philip was at all blood-thirsty, for a milder mannered man never cut a thistle or Bent a mob of fat bullocks to the Melbourne market. But Philip was conscientiously and constitutionally averse to wasting time, and generally endeavored to kill two birds with one stone— a feat which, metaphorically, he certainly contrived to do every time he went out for a general or particular inspection carrying bis thisrie-hoe with him. Philip was somewhat peculiar. People who did not know the man sometimes said very hard and unjust things about him ; but it wag a remarkable fact that those who knew raoßt about Philip liked him best. He had the reputation of being a miser, or at all events & very hard man ; but how far this was to be ascribed to such peculiarities as cutting his own thistles and such other little eccentricities is hard to say. Besides cutting thistles, Philip would shoe his own horses sometimes ; -and occasionally he would take it intohis head to mend hia own fences. It was while engaged in the latter occupation on one ocoasion that a swagman who did not know Philip by sight came along, and the following interesting colloquy took place: • ■• 11 Good day mate ! " says the swagman. "Good day," returned Philip, going on with his work. " la the boss at home ju3t now ? " 11 Don't think he is." . " Queer old cuss, aint he ? " " Some people apparently think so." " Awful screw, aint he ? " " So they say " "Do you think the old hunks would give a man a feed ?" " You had better go and ask him," said Philip, as he finished morticing a post. 11 Well ! so I will. I'll go and have a coil until I hear the ball for grub. Have ye got a bit o' baccy mate ? No 1 Well ! so long ? " and humping his swag the tramp disappeared. When he afterwards appeared in the kitchen he confided to the cook that " it waa a rum start," when he discovered that the " boss " and the fencer were one and the same person. " Well ho aint a bad sort arter all " he said, abiength, as well fts he could speak with his mouthful of mutton and cabbage : " he never Baidnothin about havin' seen me afore; He never sez, sez he, what can you do, nor nothin' o' that sort, Bathe just sez: 'go down to the hut my nian the cook '11 give yog what you want ' — no } " he 1 continued refleotively, "he aint a bad sort j arter all, an' I speaks o' a man as I finds him." But we have left Philip long enongh waiting ,on the threshold of his own door, so we will now follow him into the dpipg-room, The mail bag had just arriye_d, and there were several letters for JPhilip, and three or four- market reports from different' stock agents,' who seemed to take » positive delight in' inundating "the -proprietor qf-Berengaria with superfluous' r and u%l&6saryjn'formfti tion^s'frtha'lfe^oftnb^^ltaoKririarket,wdthray«^»g«t + o£bJß^wnbnllo^kß, ' ,

" I see our cattle made the highest average this week, Mary," he said, addressing his sister, who jast then entered the room. "So I see, Philip ; I wonder what Tompkins will think of that. This ia the third time you hare beaten him this season, is it not?" The lady who presided over Philip's household was a widow, with an only son, who was a special favorite of his undo. Mra. Fairleigh was a clever woman and a notable manager. She had a very great regard for her brother Philip, whom Bhe thought one of the best of men. She had made three or four attempts to get him married to some amiable woman, bat these attempts had all been conspicuous failures. It may Boem extraordinary that Mrs, Fairleigh should be so anxious to find her brother a wife, as the probability is that if Philip were married Mrs. Fairleigh would no longer 18eide at Berengaria as its chatelaine and mistress. But if Philip was peouliar, his sister was also peculiar; and she, on this point at all events, thought more of her brother's happiness than her own position. Perhaps, however, it was simply a passion for match-making, which is as much a disease with some women as kleptomania or dipsomania, or any other mania common to both sexes. We prefer, however to take the more charitable view of it, and to consider the happiness of Philip as the ouly incentive to Mrs. FairleigVa persistent matrimonial schemes. Hitherto Philip had successfully resisted all the carefully prepared matrimonial traps and although he recognised and acknowledged the unselfish devotion of the lady's endeavors to thrust happiness upon him, he had now attained the respectable age of forty-two as a bachelor. The last attempt Mrs. FairlBigh made in pursuit of her fixed idea of making Philip happy in spile of himself was a very deeply laid scheme. For a. long time he had been talking of taking a trip home to England. There was no reason why he should not see the world. For the last twenty years of his life he had lived in the bush. During that time he had built np a noble property. If he were to sell out to-morrow he would be worth half a million at least. So he made up his mind to become a globe-trotter. Bat somehow he never got fairly started. Either there was a well to sink, or a windmill to erect, or a plantation to lay down, or there were some thistles to cut, or something of equally vital importance prevented the consummation of his wishes in the direction of travelling. However, Mrs. Fairleigh heard that a friend of hers who had a charming daughter was going home bythes.s. Orient. The young lady would be a capital wife for Philip, and who knows but he might fall in love with her when he was away from his beloved flocks and herds, and thrown entirely upon his own resources during a long sea voyage. Certainly the young lady might refuse him ; but she had not much fear of that. Philip was still a handsome man, and if he was over forty he did not look so old. Besides was he not Philip, and who could fail to see all the excellencies and high moral attributes of the man who was such a hero in the eyes of his sister. So at length sha persuaded him to take his passage in the Orient. Philip was happily nnconsoious of the matrimonial plot. He was also blissfully ignorant of the exist- : enoe of the young lady. But the best laid schemes often go wrong. Some unforseen trifle ruins the most elaborate plans. Philip did not go by the Orient after all. Tiro passage was taken. All his trunks were packed ; he bade farewell to his sister, who stood upon the verandah, and waved her handkerchief (wet with tears, as she too late repented of her own success in persuading Philip) until the buggy disappeared round the bend of the avenue leading on to the main road. But here an unexpected trial wailed the would-be exile. The last of the Berengaria tribe of aborigines were assembled to bid farewell to " Massa Philip." When they saw all the trunks and portmanteaus and hat-boxes piled up on the buggy and " Massa Philip " sitting on the box seat looking rather melancholy, it was too much for their aboriginal philosophy. They lifted up their voices and wept. They wept copiously, and then nearly all spoke at once to the following effect : — " Oh 1 Massa Philip, you massa b'long-a-me. You my countryman. Baal go away. Me not get it any more sugar. Ng — ng— ng — my country- | man, my countryman, my countryman. Gib j it sixpence." These eloquent and heartmoving words, with a profusion of more weeps from his sable friends, was too much for Philip, so he turned back ; and when Mrs. Fairleigh saw her brother peacefully cutting thistles, half an hour afterwards, in front of the house, she came to the conclusion that he had changed his mind about going to England, and had forfeited his passage money. But Mrs. Fairleigh was not a woman to be discouraged by trifles. She recalled to mind the historical incident of the Scottish hero and the spider, which made seven futile attempts to attach its web to a distant point, and after repeated failures, at last succeeded. She determined to try again. This was why she had invited the charming Miss Browning to spend a few weeks with her at Berengaria. So when Philip left his thistle-hoe in the verandah, and came into the dining-room, Bhe resolved to break the news gently to him after he had his tea. •