Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1888-09-16
CHAPTER XXI.

I
garments. Such description Of snowy
December must sound strange to English
ears, and hot Christmas day must strike
them az being az fantastic as the play 10
Midsummer's Night Dream did to De-
metrius, when be remarked Of it, This Is
hot ice and wondrous cold fire." But here
| in Australia is the realm of topsy-turvey'
dom, and many things, like dreams, 20
by contrsries. Here black swaDs are an
established fact, and the proyerb concern
ing them, when they were considered as
mythical bird as the Phe Xix, has been
rendered null and void by the discoveries
of Captain Cook. Ont here ironwcOd sinks
and pumice stone floats, which must strike
the curious spectator as queer freak on
the part of Dame Nature. At home the
Edinburgh mail bears the hardy traveller
to q cold climate, with snowy mountains
and wintry blasts; but here the. further
north one goes the hotter it gets, till 1t
terminates in Queensland, where the heat
| is so great that saprOfane traveller OF on
epivrammatic turn of mind once fittingly
called il, IAN amateur He'll But how
ever contrary, as Mrs. Camp would say.
Nature may be in her dealings, the English
race out in this great continent, are much
the same as in the old country-J0hn Bull
Paddy, and Sandy, all being OF a copserva'
tive turn of snind, and with strong opinions
as to the keeping up of the old customs.
Therefore, Oh hot Christmas day, with
the sun one hundred odd in the shade,
Australian jewellers sit down to the roast
beef and plum pudding of old England,
which they eat contentedly as the orthodox
thing. and on New Years eve the festive
Celt repairs to the doors of his friends"
with a bottle of whisky and cheering
verse of Aud Lang Syne. However, it Is
these peculiar customs that give an lndl-
Viduality to nation, and John Bull
abroad loses none of his insular obstinacy,
and keeps his Christmas in the old fashion,
and wears his clothes in the new fashion,
without regard to heat or cold. A nation
that never surrenders to the fire Of an
enemy cannot be expected to give IN to the
fire of the sun, but ii some ingenious
mortal would only invent some light and
airy costume, after the fashion OF the Greek
dress, and Australians would consent to
adopt the same, lie in Melbourne and her
sister cities would be much cooler than 1t
is at present.
Madge was thinking somewhat after this
fashion as shs sat on the wide veraudah, In
state of exhaustion from the heat, and
stared out at the wide plains lying parched
and arid under the blazing sun. There
was a dim kind of hsze rising from the ex-
csssive heat, hanging midway between
heaven aud earth, and through its tremen-
dous veil the distant hills looked ariel and
unreal. Just before her was the garden,
| which made her warm to look at, so vivid
| were the colors of the flowers. Great bushes
of oleapders, with their bright pink
blossoms, luxurious rose trees, with their
yellow, red and white flowers, and all
along the border 3 rainbow of many cclored
flowers, with such brilliant tints that the
eve ached to ses them in the hot sunshine,
and turned restfully to the cool green OF
the tree which encircled the lawn. In the
centre was a round pool, surrounded by a
ring of white marble, aud containing q
still sheet of water, which flashed like a
mirror IN the blinding light. The home
stead of Yabba Yallook station was long,
low house, with no upstairs, and with
wide yerandah running nearly round 1T.
Cool green blinds were hung between the
pillars to keep out the sun, and all along
were scattered louDging chairs OF basket
work, with rugs, novels, empty soda-water
bottles, and all the other evidences that
Mr.. Frettlby's guests had been wise, and
stayed inside during the MONDAY heat.
Mahge was seated in one Of these comfort
able chairs, and divided her attention be.
tween that glowing beauty Of the world
outside, which she could see through a
narrow slit in the blind, and new novel
from Mullen's lying open on her knee.
This latter did not interest her much, and
no wonder, being one of the polyglot pro-
ductiOns of the present day, which con-
tains quotations from the language OF every
nation under the sun, and where the char
acters speak in barbarous jsngle Of English
and French, with al occasional scrap OF
German thrown in. The powerful and
flexible English tongue, which was SUI
hcient for the brilliant thoughts OF
Macaulay and Addison, is much despised
by many of our modern novelists, who ex-
press themselves in q foolish mixture OF
French and Euglish, which is IA irritating
as it il pedantic. With one of these literary
curiosities on her knee, it is not surprising
that Miss Frettlby lst Tristan, a Romance
by Zoe" fall unheeded on the ground,
and gave herself up to her own sad
thoughts She was not looking well, for
the trial through which abe had passed
had been very great, and had left Its i'm
press Of sorrow on her beautiful face. In
her eyes too, usually 50 calm, there, was a
troubled look, as, leaning her head upon
her hands, she thought Of the bitterness of
the past year.
After Briau's acquittal of the murder Of
Oliver Whyte, she had been taken by her
father ND to the station, in the hope that
il would restore her health. The mental
strain which had been on her during the
trial had nearly brought on an attack Of
brain fever, but here, far from the excite
ment of town life, in the quiet seclusion
of the country, shs had recovered her
health, but not her spirits. Women are
more impressiousbls than men, and it isb
perhaps, for this reason that they age
quicker. A trouble which would pass
lightly over a man leaves an indellible
mark on woman, both physically and
mentally, and the terrible episode OF
whyte's murder hsd changed Msdge from
bright and merry girl into grave and
beautiful woman. All! sorrow is q potent
enehantress, and once she touches the
heart, life can never be the same again,
for we never moro surrender ourselves en-
tirely to the pleasures of life, but find that
many things which we have longed for,
wher obtained, are but desd-ssa fruit
Sorrow is the yelled Isis of the world, and
once we penetrate her mystery and see her
deeply furrowed face and monrnful eyes,
the magic light Of romance dies away from
the world, and we see the hard, bitter facts
of life in their harsh nakedness. This was
the way Madgs felt and she SAW the world
now, not as the fantastic fsirylsnd Of her
girlish dreams, but rs the sorrowful vale
of tears through which we must all walk
till we reach the promised Land" And