The Ladies’ Magazine.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2401, 16 January 1909, Page 9 (Supplement)

The Ladies’ Magazine.

“SHADOWS.”

“That’s right, my girl—stir up the fire, light the lamp, pull down the blind. Make the ohl home look bright and cheery, for the night is cuming to us!”

“Gracious. .John, what’s the matter with you ?” usked Mrs Brown, turning' round from the-.fireplace to look anxiously at her husband. "'Why, your eyes are- red, your face looks drawn and white/ and your voice sounds liord and husky, 101 l you what it is, niv man —-you’ve been standing somewhere in a draught, am! now you’ve got- to pay for it with a nice cold, and perhaps a touch oi rheumatism as well.” “Maybe you’re right, Jenny —maybe you’re right. Somehow I don’t feel so wonderfully well to-night, ’ said her husband, with a sigh/ as he hung up his cent on a peg, and then sank wearily into the armchair. ‘•Well, at- our age, it ain’t to be wondered at; but there, we 11 see what a hot basin of gruel will do. and then —My word,” continued Mrs Brown, pausing, with her hand on the blind, to Idol* out through the window, “'what a "night it is to be sure! 'Why, our Jem will be nigh dead with cold on that great engine of his.' There you go tigain, John. 1 think you’ll better put some goosegrease on that- throat of yours. Why, it almost sounded like a sob —that it did.”

“Never mind the cold, old girl, that’ll get- better some day. Come, sit you down by my side, and let •us forget the night and its .shadows, the world and all its troubles.” “Troubles!” said lus wife, reproachfully. “Why, what troubles have we got, John?” “Of course not, I—l forgot. You see I was iust thinking about —about something else just then. But there, come and sit down hero, Jenny, and we’ll talk about the old days—the bright and sunny days—when we went /.-courting, you and me.” “’Pears to me, you great silly, as if that cold of yours had got right up into your head. The idea of two old folks like us talking such nonsense ! Now if it hud been om Jem, for instance — Don’t turn your head away, John, and don’t fidget so. "'Why, what’s the newspaper doing in your pocket-?” ■ “It’s nothing,” he replied, hastily pushing it out of sight. “It’s last week’s; all about a —about a football match; one of my mates lent it me to read.”

•‘Then I don't want to bear anything about it,” remarked Mrs Brown, decisively. '‘There, I’ll get that basin of gruel ready, and pack you off to bed. Bemember, you’re the invalid to-night, John, so I’ll waif up for the boy.” “No, no,” cried John, hurriedly, “that won’t do at all. What would the doctor say? You know what he told you last winter, mother. Just you leave everything to me; that will ho .all right. I’ll poke the gruel and stir the fire—-I mean, I’ll see to - it all.” . - , “Was thore ever such a wiiiui man?” asked Mrs Brown, lifting up her wrinkled hands in pretended dismay. “Ah, well, I suppose you wit: have your own way as usual. But don’t keep the lad up too late, John; he’ll he tired and cold whey he comes home.” _ , , There was no reply from John to this last injunction. Her husband appeared to be intent upon coaxmg the fire into a fitful blaze that lit up his rugged, weather-worn face, . ana touched with a- rudy tint his irongrev hair. . “Tie doesn’t seem at all like himself to-night-, 3 murmured his wife, as she stood watching him from the doorwav. “I expect it’s tlio cold that makes him so strange; they’re nasty things to get rid of, too, at his age. And geniiv closing the door behind her she slowly climbed the croaking

stairs. , , John sat motionloss until- the last footstep had died away; then, looking wildly round the room, lie tore the newspaper from his pocket and flung it upon the table*. “My God, how can I break the news? How can I tell her that our only son lies dead—hidden away amongst the wreckage of.that cursed .accident?'’ “It doesn’t seem real,” he continued, pressing his hands to his head. “Somehow it is more like the echo of some fearful dream. And yet, how it all conies hack to me. The sudden silence at the works this .afternoon as the news came in. Then the cry of the newspaper hoys as they raced along the streot—‘Ternblo accident on the railway!’ “They were very good to me, my mates, as they gathered round with their sympathy. . But all the while it was burning itself into my train that it was my boy, my Jem, wno had "misread the signals, ami dashed on land on to destruction. “And now I am to tell all this to her, to the one who has watched over and idolised him for thirty years—her only child. God help me, I can t do it- I’ve been walking, the streets for hours’, shunning everyone, and

starting at every sound, until at last, tind out, I’ve crawled homo. Yet, even hero, the words are ringing in my ears: 'Terrible accident on the railway!’” And burying his head on his arms, John suffered in loneliness. Unheeded by him, the clock on the shell ticked noisily away, and the minutes flew swiftly by. ’ Unnoticed by him, the door quietly opened, and his wire came into the room, looking anxiously towards a vacant chair that stood near the table.

“John,” -she called, in frightened tones, as she touched him light y on the shoulder —“John, wake up! Where is our boy? why is ho not here?”

was the test, the bitterest .moment* of his life. But even as ho slowly raised his head, to point, mutely to the newspaper- lying thcic before him, a strange light came in his eyes, an eagerness to his lace, lor ... cheery whistle sounded outside, and a well-known loot-step was heard in the passage. “Why, Jem, my lad,’ said his mother to' the sturdy young engine-dri-ver, as ho entered, “wherever have you been?” “Couldn’t help it- mother,” replied Join, with a laugh, “got put on another engine this morning; since then the accident- has thrown us .ul behind.”

“Yvhat accident was that?” •■Why, dp you mean to say you haven’t told her, dad?” asked Join, in surprise, watching his father suddenly pick up '.a, newspaper from the table, and throw it hastily on the fire. “Well, you see, mother, the engine that I generally drive was given to another man this morning, and iDs been in a smash up, but I thought you’d know all about it. They said they’d let dad know at the works that I had been shifted.”

Perhaps it was a woman’s instinct that helped her to the truth, for with one swift glanco at her husband, she threw her arms around his neck, and whispered, as she kissed him tenderh, “Why did you hide it from me, John?” “Here, what’s the matter, mother r demanded Jem, pausing in the operation of removing his boots. “What on earth are you two whispering about eh ?” _ £± “Shadows,” said his mother, soitly-

!N A GARDEN.

They have in Adelaide a charming habit at this time of tho year of revisiting the Garden of Eden, which delectable place is within easy reach of drag and motor car. Six miles over those hard, white roads which make travelling in this State such a .delight-, brings 'one to the garden—a ffully whose converging hillsides are clothed with fruit trees, ami within whose heart are dim ro-ers-.es of dense shade. Planted more than a decade ago by somo early colonist' of large and spacious* mind, this great garden, which covers over 50 acres of hill and dale, now shows a prodigality of growth scarcely to be rivalled anywhere. Tlerc are giant oil; s. under wlioso spreading branches one can lie and look up through suites of airy apartments, one storey above smother, till the attic windows of the highest / the blue vapor of tlio heave*:’!, pours in; oaks, coders, poplars, ash.es and yews. Just to have seen a vew tree 'rear its solemn.head unmorod by “branding summer suns” is to the untravelled -Australian a thrilling experience, and makes him fe< 1 as elegiac as any Gray. Ami in this garden chestnuts spread sham-lv fingers between you and the ton ardent light; lindens, daintily hung with pale ornaments, of whose Ik>’ttiiicsil inniie £ sun ignorant; and laburnums, their golden rain now' petrified into long seedpods, grow among walnut trees—groat green touts through which the light falls as through green glass—luminous, cool, and delicate.

You telephone beforehand to the keeper of this garden, who, by the wav. has laid aside his fiery sword, and engage whatever tree you prefer—the first, ‘second, or third walnut tree, the mulberry, or the fig tree. Tinder it a long table is spread with a snovvv doth, a leviathan brown leaPoL —the ancestor of all little brown teapots one lias ever seen, stands patrku'cludly among the teacups. Down th \ centre of tho table alternate huge p! :t-C6 of delicious bread and butter, moulds of cherries'* and locjuntSy and glass jars of cream, while before each liaonv visitor stands a brimming baeket'of froshly-gatliercd strawberries—strawberries and cream—as much as the greatest gourmand can consume. What a picture! No wonder the camera fiend makes haste to snap it—this soft green twilight in the midst of a sunnv noon, the w'hite cloth jewel!,'! bv the rich crimson and golden hues of the ripe fruit. Pity he could not include in his picture its final touch of magic—the happy bird notes pouring forth on every side., for birds are everywhere, in the high hawthorn© hedges, which like ramparts shut in tho garden from iho ouslv hill road, outside, in the thickets of blackberries, among the vines of tho, hill slopes, from the rhododendrons making a big splash of delicate heliotrope color near the creek, from the branches, of the giant cherry trees which, go nun oil a - - thickly with glistening rubies as an Indian rajah, stand in scores along the path, from the standard roses—yellow, pink, and, crimson—pouring forth their sweet, warm incense in the sun, from the tall poplars rustling m their. emerald satin gowns comes a me diet’ of eaJ.s. whistles, chuckles, and cheeps, as if the whole feathered world had something particularly joyful to say, and must say it there and then—robins with waistcoats of a more exaggerated hue, redder and more expansive than are- fashionable elsewhere, squat down on a green bank and eye you. They all;-w you to advance nearer and nearer. ay ! and even nearer, until you begin to believe that the ancient distrust of one set of bipeds for the other has at last been overcome, and then with on impudent scuffle and flurry they are off, peeping down at you derisivily from between the loaves of a hoary apple .tree. English lilacs and holly grow here side by side and condole with other on the silly exuberance of Australian . and jong borders of thyme and rosemary, and balsam give nicinancy to the hot air. Kijiluuos and flickering shadows, the murmur of leaf and rustle of falling •letal. perfumes of blossom and fruit, winnowing of butterflies’ wings! Truly there is something in a garden which appeals to the primeval creature in'us all. But the sun sets hero as elsewhere, and time and circumstances, crudest of evictors, drive us forth into the world again, and the great gates of Eden clang as they close belling us.