WINNIE.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 52, 29 December 1904, Page 23

WINNIE.

I'm only a greyhound, it is true, and perhaps on tnat account owe an apology for usurping the privileges of mac by reciting a few of my reminiscences My slpeoies have not apoken over much since the time of Aesop ; a«d, having ruminated in nioie oi less unbroken silence for such a .period, we may now crave yooir indulgence. On mtoonhg|ht nights, when impressed wittfi the beauties of the firmament, we sometimes a'rtdresis the moon in rl^paodies, hut in a language unintelligible to m,an.

At times you may have seen us dreaming at tftie fires Dde of past adventures, or mjaylia'p of future forebodings ; but you cannot interpret cur thoughts as we bark ourselves awake. My dretams are all framed round tttia object, and arc not as 'happy as tliose of less sentimental brutes ; my thoutxhts, asleep or awake, by night and by day, all turn to the siame siuhject ; the same form is ever before my mxrfd-— it is the form of Winnie ; and it is of Winnie I am albout to tell you.

It is a romance, though not the kind of romance schoolgirls read in I^nglis'h novelettes— not tine Percy end Angelina type, with the same moinotom<visly hap>py endings : Percy is poor 'and will not sJpeak because sjhe is riCih ; tjhe-n she beoomes penniless, a/nd he is enabled to pqur Sortih the longings of a hungry heart ; they embrace accordingly, and, lo ! each inherits a legacy wnich is placed at the feet of the other, amidst golden sunsets, dewy qvemings, silvery moonlights and diamond mornings, with moonbeams, rainbows, snl the s|ongj of birds. Vet I write of love, pi^re love , the loie which, metihinks, enids more often in sorrow than in joy. Unlike yoiur human writers,- I will not ' magnify the exception into a rule, and dwarf the world into exception ' ; nor will I, tor the sake of sensation, hang the events of one life to Uhe fortunes of another. I wiito of life, the things I 'hjave sieon, what I have hoard. As I foiaAe already delayed over much -with I<he preamibje, I will pass lightly over my birth and earlier enviijqnm<|nt, \v|hith are shrouded in Some ohsourity. My first colherdnt recollections are of an oecejitric old man, my fiirst mtaster. Hie was called ' The Professor ' by some, Hut nialfnamed ' Socrates ' by the hoys from the neighboring school ; and as I am called ' Plato,' I knmv Itot wjhether his name wias derived from mine or mime frjom Ihis Be tthis as it may, Socrates lived a lonely life i;n a largo inoiu.so, or, properly speaking, old castle, encinclefi by trees, some distance from the roadside. On a fime *W Jie was usually tio be seen in nn armchair wihicjh he had fiormetd *n the hedge, reading some old 'and wiell-w.o|rn biotas ; when it rained he read the same bodka in the house, and this was tflie only variation in fiaibita which he atpipcsared to permit himself. His farm he hi^d let to the neighbors. .He was his own butler, co.dk, 'amid housemaid , all his food was Supplied by contnact ; his tastes ware simple and never varied, and the s,ame supply w,as left daily at his g.ateL The house, of w)hidh he was the only occupant, was never entered save by 'him, a.ud a kind of weird romance hung around the place. He was a liadielor, of bourse, and a ' w,omanh^ter,' though 'I have Ueard it whimpered that cjn.ee upon )a time his sentiments were otherwise towards the Subtler sex, o>ne of whom— whether a Circe or Hebe I kaow nmt— was the original cause of warping his mind, souring 'his temper, and giving rise tio his numerous ecceintricities. At times one of the more advanced students, Main with a passing trtumph, attempted an encannter wit!h Socrales, but Snlvariably regretted his temerity ; for, whatever the subject chosen, the old man put to sth'ame his youthful adversary. My mother lay at iaur master's feet to answer the more imjpertinent in a Suitable manner and see tihat no frivolous intruders disturbed wiiih impunity the meditations witfli Which he was w/otnt to arnHise himself.

For a lime I also watched with my mother, but as I grew mp I became restless, atfd longed for Kyrle Kellv wfoo om occasion took me with him around the farm and taugjit me how to r,un and hunt. It was evident, however, that the old man did not view with favor these illicit! excursions on my part, especially as, not infrequently, my mother was induceld to leave her vigil to witness my performances. So it came to pass that Kyrle, who had taken a great fancy to me—being the best-bred hound in t?ic copintry — g;ot permission to take me away with him, as I had became only a source of distraction i|* my erstwhile sqSate mother. I well remember the diay I was takcfn to my new home, a dheerful-looking house with rose-Hushes im front and ivy entwining the ends, a

marked contrast to the forbidding look and hare walls of my previous abode. But as soon as I entered I no Logger slaw the h\ouse. A little ran to meet us, the prettiefct hrown-n aired, hf,ue-eyed doll I had ever seen, with a flirperb pose, and as graceful as a greyhjcMnd. Sihe s-jreiamed with joy on seeing me, and, clasping 'her hands aroiund my neck, she waltzed roumd tfhe floor with me, and forthwith we became fast friends. Much wa.s my first meeting with Winnie ; henceforth e\ cry thing in life seemed brighter and hotter.

1 scon became a general favorite with my new and livelier neighbors ; oven the beggars — the natural enemies of my species — used to praise me, tuit I fear it v.as only to please Winnie, for I have overheard them say wjhen sine was not present that 'twas a sim to waste so ntych g^lod f>Jod o,n me while so many .poor creatluxes were relying for thieir dinner on the scraps from a hiundreld ohjarities. However, I believe they spoke more in ]if, n^er than in anger, a.rtd consequently I refrain from mjorahsing en such little (hypocrisies.

After a time Winnie, who previously attended the liocal sahaol, ahajnged to the higher school in the village H whiqh was some distance from our home. Kyrlo drove her at first, but she soon learned how to drive herself. I mivariably accompanied her in the mornitngs, and longacl all djay for the hour to meet her i)i the evenings. Tjhe road to the village passed by my old home,, artd I had an opportunity of caressing my mother as I weht by, mornings and evenings. I was also deli»hte)d to see my old master give me a kindly glance of reqoglnitiKMi, and at sight of Winnie he almost looked pleasqd. At first the village youths endeavored to coax me hunting, b,ut finding that their blandisjimenta were of no avail, tthe more cruel of them teased and ajnioyed me in a most un-Uhristian manner. Some hoys have no .sense of decency, and 1 was more limrt at the insult tiha^n at anything else , to be treated Hike am ordinary low-bred village cur was naturally tantalising to the bost-brcrl ho'ind in the country. I, however, treated them with the ccntcni'pt which they deserved. I neither condescended to run from them nor fro. snarl at them like the base-horn, ill-mannered whelps they were acQiiS'liouvod to, and tihey soon came to respect me accordingly.

These were, the happiest days of my life, going to school with Winnie, and occasionally hunting with Kyrle. \Uiqii I returned from a hunt tired and hungry Winnie dnqd and fed me, and placed me near the fire. She siometimes looked at me reproachfully when the saw the blond of the hares, and I felt ashamed, thoiugh I never did i)iiflicL unnecessary punishment ot tear up a Jpttor little hare like other dogs. My motto always has been a fair start and a fair fun, and I never pursued a bare with a -second hound, nor do I think it fair for two powerful 'bflutes to hunt one little hare ; htfunds that do siuch things are no better than they might to be, and have no finer principles than common, ugly mouthed beagles.

Kyrle, .however, was before long called away to aasisit his uncle in business, and I was, therefore, left siolely in Winnies charge. I Unew instinctively when s' hioiol was over, and of? I bounded to the village to meet Winnie, and well was I repaid by a loVing smile and Sioft caress With Winnie present all was sunshine, without /hpr it was darkness. Rut, alas, these joyous times did not last, for over. Soon I had the mortinoation to see Winnie's affections shared by another, a<nd that is how our trc/übles began.

IV. I}he world had now changed for me, tjiotigh I still visited the lake and 'brooded over ha)ppier days. Sn the long and melancholy aYitumn twilight I strolled as of oid along our accustomed paths, but all Mature seemed different. Tihe notes of the thiu&h had lost their sweeftness , a distorMant key perv«adod the blackbird's time ; the warbliliig of the linnet was mellowless ; tliere was dissonance in the song, of tihe lark and melancholy in tihe hum of tihe bee. The voice more moi^Ltal than any was Sor etver stilled. As wi/nteir came on, coki anjd cheerless, the stars s!Kane witti a feeliler ray, and the moioji seemed oolU an,d dull a>a I nig|htly visited Winnie in her frozen grave. At times I followed Kyrle as he strolled with be,nt head ewer the heath-empurpled moorland. His gun lay rtisty on t\he rack, and his once ready ha^nd was now nerveless by his side. T\he defiant crow of the grouse we/nt by unnoticed , the woodcock and pheasant sougjit superfluous cover i the sentinel player kdpt a vain vigil ; t|he startlekl ory of the durlew souhded a false alarm ; and the shrill cry and quick manoeuvres of the stni'pe were wasted ; our thoughts* were not of thc«e. Winter passed into spring, and the flowers bloomed ag\ain, but Win,nie was in her gra\e, with tlie wild flowers entwining the cold stones abwe. The primroses and vviolets fiaideid unplucked, for the hand that gathered tihem was now cold, and iifeiess. The aggressive brightness of summer now seemed misplaced and distasteful, but the more fclubd'ued a^uHumn brought Oonsolati'on. A marble headstone had been ereate-d o^er Winnie's grave, and on top, with outstretched wings, was poised an angel, (iraxiually I bad come to t\hink of Winnie as the figure above, rather than as the form bejneiatth. I have said tihat nightly I visited the graveyard, and, gazing on the ajigei, l lelt that 1 was agaih in Winnie's company. 'I'h.Us it was one night in December I went as visual to visit the temib. '1 he moon sjione bright in a cloudless sky, and a multitude of stars bedecked the firmaments, and the snow lay thick on the ground, reflecting the brilliance of the heavens above. As 1 jumped o\er tne enclosing wall at my accustomed point, near Winnie's grave, 1 sb,w a man approaching i,n a heavy overcoat, and was about to spring on the desecrating intruder when something familiar in his appearance arrestod me. He came along, to the grave, and kneeling down, he cried out — ' Oh, God, it is too true ; forgive me, Wihtue. Do y;o|i klrow ? Cafa you understand? ' 1L was Coin. As I ga/od at him in bewilderment, the the fig.ure on the tombstone faded away, a/nd W 7 inme herself stood beside him ; Winnie, npt as in death, but the pleasant Winnie of happier memory. She took him by the hand, and pointing heavenwards disappeared as mysteriously as she had come. I ran rcund the graveyard in a vain ohase — Winnie I saw no more— bmt on refuriiing Con was still there, slowly reading from the tomb — ' Though she has perished, love in deathless blcom Outlives the tor-por of the wtfntry tomb ; There is a clime where sorrow never came, There is a (peace perennially the same ; There rolls a world w/here severed hearts rcjnew Bright symh'athies, the exquisite and true.' But, alas, thought I, not for Plato.—' Weekly Freeman. 1