The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1876-05-25


gave very bad account of me and re.
fused to take me back, 20 that Baker,
to get rid of me, placed me on board an
immigrant ship bound for Australia that
belonged to friend of his. Here was
treated like dog, and as soon as we
reached Melbourne / ran away to the
diggings. And now was in line that
just suited me. had no great luck,
but was making my living and enjoying
myself first rate. So pleased was with
myself that 1 must write home to
mother with packet of gold dust and
lot Of stories about the diggings. /
was even 30 much Modified that I sent
my love to Garry and kind regards to
Baker.
Well, it so happened that my letter
reached home Just after Garry and
mother had fallen out, and mother had
mustered up spirit to send 'em out of
the house and get rid of them. And she
wrote to me, poor woman, such kind
letter. was her own dear, darling boy,
and she saw row how that willy Baker
had set her against me. But if I'd come
home now and close her eyes all that
she had would be mine, and 1 should
take my proper place in the world
Added to that she sent me bank post
bill for 9100 to pay my expenses.
After that L felt I was bound to go,
and yet things kept turning up that
hindered me from starting. / had to
finish out piece with my mates, and
then l waited FOR chum of mine who
drove bus to Melbourne, who was 60
ing home, too; so that it was year or
more before found myself anchored in
the Downs, with the white cliffs of old
England shining in the distance. /
landed there and made my way without
troubling myself about my baggage,
just as L was, half sailor, half digger,
across the country to Biddlesden, where
mother lived.
1 fancy 1 see the place nova red
brick house, with bow windows kept
wonderfully bright, wire blinds, and
green venetians; the street with tuft by
the sides, and nice trees growing here
md there. 1t looked so quiet and cheer
full, with tie sun shining brightly on
everything, that said to myself, quite
in the poetic vein i: If there's peace
to be found in the world the heart that
is humble may hope for it here"
There were beautiful white steps up to
mothers door, and l walked up them
with strange, uneasy feeling, half Joy
and half foreboding. 1t was just four
o'clock. Mother would be sitting by
the fire. She always had bit Of fire,
except in the very hottest weather. Din
ner had just been taken away. There
would be two decanters on the table in
little round stands, few biscuits, two
or three apples, and some walnuts, in
dishes of old china. Mother would
have her feet on the fender, with her
dress tucked over her knees and her
black quilted satin petticoat warming IN
the blaze. would Just pop in quietly.
Halo, mother! !" should say, Just as
if I'd come home from school, and slip
behind her chair and give her a kiss be-
fore the old lady knew where she was.
Lord, how my heart did beat as l
softly opened the door This was what
L saw-the decanters were there all
right, and the dessert, and the smell of
dinner and wine, just as OF old, but
there was no mother sitting there.
Garry in black on one side o. the fire;
Baker in black on the other; little Tim
mings, the lawyer, in the middle,
smacking his lips over a glass of port.
My voice died away in my throat.
shut the door gently and went off into
the kitchen. There was Patty, mothers
old servant, putting away the silver.
She was in black, too, and crying over
the things. She gave such a scream
when she saw me. was a rough look.
ing chap, bear in mind, and she didn't
know me at the moment.
"I'm Dick" said, "Patty. Where's
mother 2"
"Oh," she cried, putting her hands
on my shoulder, and looking into my
face to make sure was speaking truth;
"Oh, dear, Master Dick, why didn't
you come home before2 2"
So it was. Mother had been dead
and buried a fortnight ago. Baker had
smoothed her over long before her
death, and he and Garry between them
had made it right about the property. 1
don't know what lies Baker had told
about me, but I saw her will afterwards
and there was nothing for me except n
hundred pounds. And I didn't even
get that, for they made out that 1 had
been advanced the money beforehand
that hundred pounds mother sent me,
you remember-and L knew it was no
good fighting Baker about it, me that
hadn't halfpenny.
All the knocking about hadn't knock
ed the pride out of me. Before I'd be
beholden to Garry or Baker for penny
I'd starve; and 1 came very near starv-
ing. too. 1 walked up to London
hungry and footsore. slept under
trees in the park, and earned few shil- |
lings at the docks, just enough to keep |
body and soul together, till one day had
carried a ship captains bag from Vic
toria docks to Charing Gross for shil-
ling, and I stood at the corner by st. |
Martins church, looking at the foun-
tains and the big lions, and wishing one
of them was alive and would make an
end of me, when yellow bus drove up
and chap sings out:
"Hallo, Dick |" 1t was the chum I'd |
come home with who was sitting up |
there driving. "Jump up" he said;
and got upon the box-seat and we had |
a long talk, and finding was doing no
good, he offered to get me job to look
after the horses of the bus.
But he did better than that for me;
for, seeing that 1 had got some educa-
tion about me, the manager made con-
ductor of me.
1t wasn't that gay, agreeable job I
once thought it. To be sure the line 1
was in wasn't one that admits of much
elocution. "Toria, 'toria," and
meaning Victoria Station
and the Britannia Tavern. you can't
make much of patter of. And as for
,kes, why, ever since they introduced
= ,oea Nwavbills az thew call them