Life is not all pleasant parade and show, like a field-day atAldershot; no, for sooner or later pomp and panoply have to be exchangedfor camp-life and action, and bright uniforms are either rolled in bloodand dust, or come triumphant, though tarnished, from the field of glory.Life is not all plain sailing over sunlit seas, for by-and-by theclouds bank up, storms come on, and the good ship has to do battle withwind and wave.
But who would have it otherwise? No one would who possesses theslightest ray of honest ambition, or a single spark of that pride ofself which we need not blush to own.
One day, about the beginning of autumn, Rupert and Archie, and theirsister Elsie, were in the room in the tower. They sat together in aturret chamber, Elsie gazing dreamily from the window at the beautifulscenery spread out beneath. The woods and wilds, the rolling hills, thesilvery stream, the half-ripe grain moving in the wind, as waves at seamove, and the silvery sunshine over all. She was in a kind of adaydream, her fingers listlessly touching a chord on the harp now andthen. A pretty picture she looked, too, with her bonnie brown hair, andher bonnie blue eyes, and thorough English face, thorough Englishbeauty. Perhaps Archie had been thinking something of this sort as hesat there looking at her, while Rupert half-lay in the rocking-chair,which his brother had made for him, engrossed as usual in a book.
Whether Archie did think thus or not, certain it is that presently hedrew his chair close to his sister's, and laying one arm fondly on hershoulder.
"What is sissie looking at?" he asked.
"Oh, Archie," she replied, "I don't think I've been looking at anything;but I've been seeing everything and wishing!"
"Wishing, Elsie? Well, you don't look merry. What were you wishing?"
"I was wishing the old days were back again, when--when father was rich;before the awful fire came, and the plague, and everything. It has madeus all old, I think. Wouldn't you like father was rich again?"
"I am not certain; but wishes are not horses, you know."
"_No_," said Elsie; "only if it could even be always like this, and ifyou and Rupert and I could be always as we are now. I think that, poorthough we are, everything just now is so pretty and so pleasant. Butyou are going away to the university, and the place won't be the same.I shall get older faster than ever then."
"Well, Elsie," said Archie, laughing, "I am so old that I am going tomake my will."
Rupert put down his book with a quiet smile.
"What are you going to leave me, old man? Scallowa?"
"No, Rupert, you're too long in the legs for Scallowa, you have no ideawhat a bodkin of a boy you are growing. Scallowa I will and bequeath tomy pretty sister here, and I'll buy her a side-saddle, and twopennyworth of carrot seed. Elsie will also have Bounder, and you,Rupert, shall have Fuss."
"Anything else for me?"
"Don't be greedy. But I'll tell you. You shall have my tool-house, andall my tools, and my gun besides. Well, this room is to be sister'sown, and she shall also have my fishing-rod, and the book of flies thatpoor Bob Cooper made for me. Oh, don't despise them, they are allwonders!"
"Well really, Archie," said Elsie, "you talk as earnestly as if youactually were going to die."
"Who said I was going to die? No, I don't mean to die till I've donemuch more mischief."
"Hush! Archie."
"Well, I'm hushed."
"Why do you want to make your will?"
"Oh, it isn't wanting to make my will! I am--I've done it. And the`why' is this, I'm going away."
"To Oxford?"
"No, Elsie, not to Oxford. I've got quite enough Latin and Greek out ofWalton to last me all my life. I couldn't be a doctor; besides fatheris hardly rich enough to make me one at present. I couldn't be adoctor, and I'm not good enough to be a parson."
"Archie, how you talk."
There were tears in Elsie's eyes now.
"I can't help it. I'm going away to enter life in a new land. UncleRamsay has told me all about Australia. He says the old country is usedup, and fortunes can be made in a few years on the other side of theglobe."
There was silence in the turret for long minutes; the whispering of thewind in the elm trees beneath could be heard, the murmuring of theriver, and far away in the woods the cawing of rooks.
"Don't you cry, Elsie," said Archie. "I've been thinking about all thisfor some time, and my mind is made up. I'm going, Elsie, and I know itis for the best. You don't imagine for a single moment, do you, thatI'll forget the dear old times, and you all? No, no, no. I'll thinkabout you every night, and all day long, and I'll come back rich. Youdon't think that I _won't_ make my fortune, do you? Because I mean to,and will. So there. Don't cry, Elsie."
"_I'm_ not going to cry, Archie," said Rupert.
"Right, Rupert, you're a brick, as Branson says."
"I'm not old enough," continued Rupert, "to give you my blessing, thoughI suppose Kate would give you hers; but we'll all pray for you."
"Well," said Archie thoughtfully, "that will help some."
"Why, you silly boy, it will help a lot."
"I wish I were as good as you, Rupert. But I'm just going to try hardto do my best, and I feel certain I'll be all right."
"You know, Roup, how well I can play cricket, and how I often easilybowl father out. Well, that is because I've just tried my very hardestto become a good player; and I'm going to try my very hardest again inanother way. Oh, I shall win! I'm cocksure I shall. Come, Elsie, dryyour eyes. Here's my handkie. Don't be a little old wife."
"You won't get killed, or anything, Archie?"
"No; I won't get killed, or eaten either."
"They do tell me," said Elsie--"that is, old Kate told me--that thestreets in Australia are all paved with gold, and that the roofs of thehouses are all solid silver."
"Well, I don't think she is quite right," said Archie, laughing."Anyhow, uncle says there is a fortune to be made, and I'm going to makeit. That's all."
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Archie went straight away down from that boy's room feeling every inch aman, and had an interview with his father and uncle.
It is needless to relate what took place there, or to report theconversation which the older folks had that evening in the little greenparlour. Both father and uncle looked upon Archie's request assomething only natural. For both these men, singular to say, had beenboys once themselves; and, in the Squire's own words, Archie was a sonto be proud of.
"We can't keep the lad always with us, mother," said Squire Broadbent;"and the wide world is the best of schools. I feel certain that, gowhere he will, he won't lose heart. If he does, I should be ashamed toown him as a son. So there! My only regret is, Ramsay, that I cannotsend the lad away with a better lined pocket."
"My dear silly old brother, he will be better as he is. And I'm reallynot sure that he would not be better still if he went away, as many havegone before him, with only a stick and a bundle over his shoulder. Youhave a deal too much of the Broadbent pride; and Archie had better leavethat all behind at home, or be careful to conceal it when he gets to theland of his adoption."
The following is a brief list of Archie's stock-in-trade when he sailedaway in the good ship _Dugong_ to begin the world alone: 1. A good stockof clothes. 2. A good stock of assurance. 3. Plenty of hope. 4. Goodhealth and abundance of strength. 5. A little nest egg at an Australianbank to keep him partly independent till he should be able to establisha footing. 6. Letters of introduction, blessings, and a little pocketBible.
His uncle chose his ship, and sent him away round the Cape in a goodold-fashioned sailing vessel. And his uncle went to Glasgow to see himoff, his last words being, "Keep up your heart, boy, whatever happens;and keep calm in every difficulty. Good-bye."
Away sailed the ship, and away went Archie to see the cities that arepaved with gold, and whose houses have roofs of solid silver.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
BOOK II--AT THE GOLDEN GATES.
"SPOKEN LIKE HIS FATHER'S SON."
"Cheer, boys, cheer, no more of idle sorrow, Courage, true hearts shall bear us on our way; Hope flies before, and points the bright to-morrow, Let us forget the dangers of to-day."
That dear old song! How many a time and oft it has helped to raise thedrooping spirits of emigrants sailing away from these loved islands,never again to return!
The melody itself too is such a manly one. Inez dear, bring my fiddle.Not a
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