The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1890-01-05

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s@$%& <pEIk kSs Ills Qeatn, Allan
%&SyH4 Quatermain
- NIW%ZG makes allusion to
AEOXNRfE his long dead
c. fM@ wife, stating that
~ NJ he has written of
MEha..A& her fully else
~ where.
! =; !; :: e.: e.: !: 8: :: 6: !:
N as his literary ex-
II ecutor. Among
them l found two manuscripts, of which
the following is one. The other is simply
a record of events in which Mr.. Quater-
main was not personally concerned-a
Zulunovel, the story of which vas told
to him by the hero many years after the
tragedy had occurred. But with this
we have nothing to do at present.
1 have often thought (NIr. Quater-
mains manuscript begins) that l would
set down on paper the vents connected
with my marriage, and the loss of my
most dear wife. Many years nave now
passed since that event, and to some ex-
tent time has softened the old grief,
though heaven knows it is still keen
enough. On two or three occasions l
have eve begun the record. Once 1
gave it up because the writing of it de-
pressed me beyond bearing, once because
4 suddenly was called away upon "a
tourney, and the third time because a
AEnEH- ha- fA,,,l 49, ~.
Eenient for lighting the kitchen fire.
fBut now that / am at leisure here in
England, l will make a fourth attempt.
If | succeed, the story may serve to in
terest IN one in after years when l
am dead and gone. 1t is a wild tale
enough, and suggests some curious re-
Elections.
am the son of a missionary. Ny
father was originally curate in charge of
a small parish in Oxfordshire. He had
already been some years married to my
dear mother when he went there, and
he had four children, of whom | was
the youngest. | remember family the
place where we lived. 1t was an ancient,
long. gray house, facing the road. There
was a very large tree of some sort in the
garden. 1t was hollow, and we children
used to play about inside of it, and
knock knots of wood from the rough
bark. We all slept in a kind of attic,
and my mother always came up and
kissed us when we were in bed. l used
to wake UP and see her bending over me,
a candle in her hand. There was a
curious kind of pole projecting from the
wall over my bed. Once l was dread
fully frightened because my eldest
brother made me hang to it by my
hands. That is all l remember about
our old home. 1t has been pulled down
-. ago OF : "'4i' journey 'DS'S %
~ little further down the road was a
%large house with big iron gates to it, and
7 on the top of the gate pillars sat two
stone lions, which We're so hideous that I
was afraid of them. One could see the
house by peeping through the bars of the
gates. 1t was a gloomy looking place,
with a tall yew hedge round it; but in
the summer time some flowers grew
round the sun dial in the grass plat.
This house was called the Hall, and
Squire Carson lived there. One Christ
mast must have been the Christmas
before my father emigrated, or l should
mot remember tive children went to a
Christmas tree at the Hall. There was a
great party there, and footmen wearing
red waistcoats stood at the door. In the
dining room, which was paneled with
black oak, was the Christmas tree.
Squire Carson stood in front of it. He
was a tall, dark man, very quiet in his
manners, and he wore a bunch of seals
on his waistcoat. We used to think him
old, but as a matter of fact he was then
not more han forty. He had been, as 1
afterwards learned, a great traveller in
his youth, but some six or seven years
before this date had married a lady who
was half aSpaniard-a papist, my father
called her.
can remember her well. She was
s46eil and very pretty, with a rounded
figure, large black eyes and glittering
teeth. She spoke English with a curious
accent. 1 suppose that l must have been
a funny child to look at, and | know
that my hair stood up on my head then
as it does now, for 1 still have a sketch
of myself that my mother made of me,
in which this popularity is strongly
marked. On this occasion of the Christ
mas tree / remember that Mrs. Carson
turned to a tall, foreign looking gentle
man who stood beside her, and tapping
him af~fectionately on the shoulder with
her gold eyeglasses said:
"Look, cousin-look at that droll little
boy with the big brown eyes; his hair is
like a-what you call him?-scrubbing
brush. Oh, what a droll little boyr'
The tall gentleman pulled at his mus
tache, and, taking Mrs. Carson's hand in
his, began to smooth my hair down with
it till I heard her whisper:
sLeave go my hand, cousin. Thomas
is looking ike-like the thunderstorm
Thomas was the name of Mr.. Carson,
her husband.
After that l hid myself as well as
could behind a chair, for l was shy, and
wa1ched little Stella Carson, who was
thelsquire's only child, giving the chill
dreh presents off the tree. She was
dressed as Father Christmas, with some
soft, white stuff round her lovely little
face. and had LARGE. dark ewes. which I