From Squire to Squatter: A Tale of the Old Land and the New

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From Squire to Squatter: A Tale of the Old Land and the New Page 39

by Burt L. Standish

appearing. They were then just worth the priceof their hides and tallow.

  Considering the amount of extra work entailed, and the number of extrahands to be hired, and the bustle and stir and anxiety caused by theoutbreak, it is doubtful if it would not have been better to bury themas they fell, skin and all.

  This was one of the calamities which Winslow had pointed out to Archieas likely to occur. But it was stamped out at last. The sheep thatremained were sent away to far-off pastures; being kept quite separate,however, from the other flocks. So the cloud passed away, and thesquatters could breathe freely again, and hope for a good lambingseason, when winter passed away, and spring time came once more.

  "Bob," said Archie one evening, as they all sat round the hearth beforeretiring to bed, "that fire looks awfully cosy, doesn't it? And all thehouse is clean and quiet--oh, so quiet and delightful that I reallywonder anyone could live in a city or anywhere near the roar and din ofrailway trains! Then our farm is thriving far beyond anything we couldhave dared to expect. We are positively getting rich quickly, if,indeed, we are not rich already. And whether it be winter or summer,the weather is fine, glorious sometimes. Indeed, it is like a foretasteof heaven, Bob, in my humble opinion, to get up early and wander out ofdoors."

  "Well," said Bob, "small reason to be ashamed to say that, my boy."

  "Hold on, Bob, I'm coming to the part I'm ashamed of; just you smokeyour pipe and keep quiet. Well, so much in love am I with the newcountry that I'm beginning to forget the old. Of course I'll always--always be a true Englishman, and I'd go back to-morrow to lay down mylife for the dear old land if it was in danger. But it isn't, itdoesn't want us, it doesn't need us; it is full to overflowing, and Idaresay they can do without any of us. But, Bob, there is my dear oldfather, mother, Elsie, and Rupert. Now, if it were only possible tohave them here. But I know my father is wedded to Burley, and hislife's dream is to show his neighbours a thing or two. I know too thatif he starts machinery again he will be irretrievably lost."

  Archie paused, and the kangaroo looked up into his face as much as tosay, "Go on, I'm all attention."

  "Well, Bob, if I make a pile here and go home, I'll just get as fond ofBurley as I was when a boy, and I may lose my pile too. It seemsselfish to speak so, but there is no necessity for it. So I mean to tryto get father to emigrate. Do you think such a thing is possible, Bob?"

  "It's the same with men as with trees, Archie. You must loosen theground about them, root by root must be carefully taken up if you wantto transplant them, and you must take so much of the old earth with themthat they hardly know they are being moved. Sarah, bring the coffee.As for my own part, Archie, I am going back; but it is only just to seethe old cottage, the dear old woods, and--and my mother's grave."

  "Yes," said Archie, thoughtfully. "Well, root by root you said, didn'tyou?"

  "Ay, root by root."

  "Then I'm going to begin. Rupert and Elsie will be the first roots.Roup isn't over strong yet. This country will make a man of him. Boband you, Harry, can go to bed as soon as you like. I'm going out tothink and walk about a bit. Stick another log or two on the fire, andas soon as you have all turned in I'll write a letter home. I'll beginthe uprooting, though it does seem cruel to snap old ties."

  "Well," said Harry, "thank goodness, I've got no ties to snap. And Ithink with you, Archie, that the old country isn't a patch on the new.Just think o' the London fogs. You mind them, Sarah."

  "I does, 'Arry."

  "And the snow."

  "And the slush, 'Arry."

  "And the drizzle."

  "And the kitchen beetles, boy. It would take a fat little lot to makeme go back out o' the sunshine. Here's the coffee."

  "Keep mine hot, Sarah."

  Away went Archie out into the night, out under the stars, out in thefalling dew, and his kangaroo went jumping and hopping after him.

  The sky was very bright and clear to-night, though fleece-shaped,snow-white clouds lay low on the horizon, and the moon was risingthrough the distant woods, giving the appearance of some gigantic fireas its beams glared red among the topmost branches.

  There was the distant howling or yelling of dingoes, and the low,half-frightened bleat of sheep, and there was the rippling murmur of thestream not far off, but all else was still.

  It was two hours before Archie found his way back. The kangaroo saw himto the door, then went off to curl up in the shed till the hot beams ofthe morning sun should lure him forth to breakfast.

  And all alone sat Archie, by the kitchen table, writing a letter home bythe light of candles made on the steading.

  It was very still now in the house--only the ticking of the clock, theoccasional whirr of some insect flying against the window, anxious tocome into the light and warmth and scratching of the young man's pen.

  Surely the dog knew that Archie was writing home, for presently he gotslowly up from his corner and came and leant his head on his master'sknee, in that wise and kindly way collies have of showing their thoughtsand feelings. Archie must leave off writing for a moment to smooth andpet the honest "bawsent" head.

  Now it would be very easy for us to peep over Archie's shoulder and readwhat he was writing, but that would be rude; anything rather thanrudeness and impoliteness. Rather, for instance, let us take a voyageacross the wide, terribly wide ocean, to pay a visit to Burley Old Farm,and wait till the letter comes.

  "I wonder," said Elsie with a gentle sigh, and a long look at the fire,"when we may expect to hear from Archie again. Dear me, what a long,long time it is since he went away! Let me see, Rupert, it is going onfor six years, isn't it?"

  "Yes. Archie must be quite a man by now."

  "He's all right," said the Squire.

  "That he is, I know," said Uncle Ramsay.

  "He's in God's good hands," said the mother, but her glasses were somoist she had to take them off to wipe them; "he is in God's good hands,and all we can do now is to pray for him."

  Two little taps at the green-parlour door and enter the maid, notlooking much older, and not less smart, than when last we saw her.

  "If you please, sir, there's a gentleman in the study as would like tosee you."

  "Oh," she added, with a little start, "here he comes!"

  And there he came certainly.

  "God bless all here!" he cried heartily.

  "What," exclaimed the Squire, jumping up and holding out his hand, "mydear old friend Venturesome Vesey!"

  "Yes, Yankee Charlie, and right glad I am to see you."

  "My wife and children, Vesey. Though you and I have often met in townsince my marriage, you've never seen them before. My brother, whom youknow."

  Vesey was not long in making himself one of the family circle, and hegave his promise to stay at Burley Old Farm for a week at least.

  Rupert and Elsie took to him at once. How could they help it? a sailorand gentleman, and a man of the world to boot. Besides, coming directlyfrom Archie.

  "I just popped into the house the very morning after he had written theletter I now hand to you," said Captain Vesey. "He had an idea it wouldbe safer for me to bring it. Well, here it is; and I'm going straightaway out to the garden to smoke a pipe under the moon while you read it.Friend as I am of Archie's, you must have the letter all toyourselves;" and away went Vesey.

  "Send for old Kate and Branson," cried the Squire, and they accordinglymarched in all expectancy.

  Then the father unfolded the letter with as much reverence almost as ifit had been _Foxe's Book of Martyrs_.

  Every eye was fixed upon him as he slowly read it. Even Bounder, thegreat Newfoundland, knew something unusual was up, and sat by Elsie allthe time.

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  Archie's Letter Home.

  "My dearest Mother,--It is to you I write first, because I know that a proposal I have to make will `take you aback,' as my friend Winslow would say. I may as well tell you what it is a
t once, because, if I don't, your beloved impatience will cause you to skip all the other parts of the letter till you come to it. Now then, my own old mummy, wipe your spectacles all ready, catch hold of the arm of your chair firmly, and tell Elsie to `stand by'--another expression of Winslow's--the smelling-salts bottle. Are you all ready? Heave oh! then. I'm going to ask you to let Rupert and Elsie come out to me here.

  "Have you fainted, mummy? Not a bit of it; you're my own brave mother! And don't you see that this will be only the beginning of the end? And a bright, happy end, mother, I'm looking

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