Frank Oldfield Part 17

"This is my business place," said the merchant; "but I shall not ask you to look at it now; we must be off again immediately for my country residence among the hills. Here, James, give the horses a little water; now then, let us start again."

A few minutes more and they were rapidly crossing the Park Lands.

"These are gum trees, I suppose?" asked Hubert.

"Yes, they are," said his uncle; "but not worth much, either for timber, ornament, or shade. You wouldn't get much relief from the heat under the poor shadow of their ta.s.sel-like foliage."

"What a very strange noise!" exclaimed Frank; "it seems as if a number of stocking-looms were at work in the air."

"See now," said Mr Oliphant, "the force of habit. I'm so used to the sound, that I was utterly unconscious of it. It is made by the cicada, an insect very common in this country. And now, where do you suppose we're coming to? This little village or township before us is Norwood, and then comes Kensington. I've no doubt it will strike you as one of the oddest things in this colony, till you get used to it, though, of course, it isn't peculiar to this colony, how places are made close neighbours here, which are very widely separated in the old country, from which they are borrowed."

"But why not retain the native names?" asked Hubert.

"Ah, why not, indeed? What can be more musical in sound than Yatala, Aldinga, Kooringa, Onkaparinga. But then, we could not always find native names enough; and, besides this, the Englishman likes to keep the old country before him, by giving his place some dear familiar name that sounds like home."

In about another half hour they reached their destination among the hills.

"The Rocks," as Mr Abraham Oliphant's place was called, was situated on a hill-side, high above the valley, but on a moderate slope. A stout post-and-rail fence surrounded the estate, and one of a more compact nature enclosed the more private grounds. The house was large, and covered a considerable surface, as there were no rooms above the bas.e.m.e.nt floor. The front windows commanded a magnificent view of the city of Adelaide, with its surrounding lands, suburbs, and neighbouring villages, and of the sea in the extreme distance. At the back was a remarkable group of rocks, from which the estate took its name; these leaned on the hill-side, and were encased in a setting of wild shrubs and creeping plants of extraordinary beauty. A stream of purest spring water perpetually flowed through a wide cleft in these rocks, and afforded a deliciously cool supply, which never failed in the hottest summer. The house was surrounded by a wide verandah, which, like the building itself, was roofed with shingles, and up the posts and along the edge of which there climbed a profusion of the multiflora rose. The garden sloped away from the house, and contained an abundance of both flowers and fruits. There was the aloe, and more than one kind of cactus, growing freely in the open air, with many other plants which would need the hothouse or greenhouse in a colder climate. Fig-trees, vines, standard peach, and nectarine trees were in great abundance, while a fence of the sharp Kangaroo Island acacia effectually kept all inquisitive cattle at a respectful distance. The inside of the house was tastefully but not unduly furnished, ancient and modern articles being ranged side by side in happy fraternity; for a thorough colonist suits his own taste, and is tolerably independent of fashion.

"Welcome once more to Australia!" exclaimed Mr Oliphant to his young companions; "and more especially welcome to 'the Rocks.' Come in: here, let me introduce you to my eldest daughter and youngest son--Jane and Thomas, here's your cousin Hubert; and here's his friend, Mr Frank Oldfield; you must give them a hearty welcome."

All parties were soon at their ease together. A sumptuous dinner-tea was soon spread on the table of the dining-room--the windows of which apartment commanded a view, across the valley, of the city and distant sea.

Mr Oliphant was a widower, with two daughters and four sons. Jane had taken her mother's place; the two eldest sons were married, and settled in other parts of the colony; the third son lived with his younger sister at a sheep-station about twenty-five miles up the country; the youngest son, Thomas, a boy about fifteen years old, was still at home, and rode in daily to the collegiate school, returning in the evening.

"You'll meet your other cousins before long, I hope," said his uncle to Hubert. "They know, of course, that you are coming; and when I send them word that you are actually come, we shall have them riding in at an early day. I suppose you're used to riding yourself? Ah, that's right; then you're pretty independent. Horseflesh is cheap enough here, but it isn't always of the choicest quality; however, I can furnish you with what you'll want in that way. All your cousins ride, of course, by a sort of colonial instinct. An Australian and his horse almost grow together like a centaur."

"And do you ride much, Cousin Jane?" asked Hubert.

"Oh, never mind the 'cousin;' you must drop it at once," said Mr Oliphant. "It's Jane, and you're Hubert. But I beg Jane's pardon for smothering her answer."

"Oh yes, Hubert," replied his cousin; "I ride, as a matter of course; we should never get over much ground, especially in the hot weather, if we walked as much as people seem to do in England. But I have not yet heard how you left my dear aunt and uncle. Seeing you seems half like seeing them; I've heard so much of them."

"I suppose you hardly venture out kangaroo-hunting, Miss Oliphant?"

asked Frank.

"I have done so once or twice in the north," she replied; "but the kangaroo is not fond of so many white faces near his haunts, so he has retired from these parts altogether."

"And you find you can all stand total abstinence here?" asked Hubert of his uncle.

"Stand it!" exclaimed Mr Oliphant; "I should think so. Why, my dear nephew, it don't need standing; it's the drink I couldn't stand. You should see the whole lot of us when we meet at one of our great family gatherings. Well, it's not quite the thing perhaps for a father to say--and yet I fancy it's not very far from the truth--that you'll not see a stouter, a better grown--Jane, shall I say handsomer?--I certainly may say a healthier, family anywhere; and not one of us is indebted to any alcoholic stimulant for our good looks."

"You have always, then, been an abstainer since you came to the colony?"

asked Frank.

"No, I have not; more's the pity," was the reply; "but only one or two of my children remember the day when I first became an abstainer. From the oldest to the youngest they have been brought up without fermented stimulants, and abhor the very sight of them."

"And might I ask," inquired Frank, "what led to the change in your case, if the question is not an intrusive one?"

"Oh, by all means; I've nothing to conceal in the matter," said Mr Oliphant; "the story is a very simple one. But come, you must make a good tea; listening is often as hungry work as talking. Well, the circ.u.mstances were just these: when I was left a widower, more than fourteen years ago, Jane was about twelve years old and Thomas only six months; I was then a moderate drinker, as it is called--that is to say, I never got drunk; but I'm sure if any one had asked me to define 'moderation,' I should have been sorely puzzled to do so; and I am quite certain that I often exceeded the bounds of moderation, not in the eyes of my fellow-creatures, but in the eyes of my Creator--ay, and in my own eyes too, for I often felt heated and excited by what I drank, so as to wish that I had taken a gla.s.s or two less,--yet all this time I never overstepped the bounds, so as to lose my self-control. At this time I kept a capital cellar--I mean a cellar largely stocked with choice wines and spirits. I did not live then at 'the Rocks,' but in a house on the skirts of the city. You may be sure that I needed a good nurse to look after so many growing children who had just lost their dear mother, and I was happy enough to light upon a treasure of a woman--she was clean, civil, active, faithful, honest, forbearing, and full of love to the children; in a word, all that I could desire her to be. She took an immense deal of care off my hands, and I could have trusted her with everything I had. Months pa.s.sed by, and I began to give large dinner- parties--for I was rather famous for my wines. Besides this, I was always having friends dropping in, happy to take a gla.s.s. All went on well--so it seemed--till one afternoon a maid came running into my sitting-room and cried out, 'Oh, sir, nurse is so very ill; what must we do?' I hurried up-stairs. There was the poor woman, sure enough, in a very miserable state. I couldn't make it out at all.

"'Send for a doctor at once!' I cried. In a little while the doctor came. I waited most anxiously for his report. At last he came down, and the door was closed on us.

"'Well, doctor,' I cried, in great anxiety; 'nothing very serious, I hope? I can ill afford to lose such a faithful creature.'

"I saw a curious smile on his face, which rather nettled me, as I thought it very ill-timed. At last he fairly burst out into a laugh, and exclaimed, 'There's nothing the matter with the woman, only she's drunk.'

"'Drunk!' I exclaimed with horror; 'impossible!'

"'Ay, but it's both possible and true too,' said the doctor; 'she'll be all right, you'll see, in a few hours.'

"And so she was. I then spoke out plainly and kindly to her. Oh, I shall never forget her misery and shame. She made no attempt to deny her fault, or even excuse it; she was heart-broken; she said she must go at once. I urged her to stay, and to turn over a new leaf. I promised to overlook what had pa.s.sed, and told her that she might soon regain her former place in my esteem and confidence. But I could not keep her; she could not bear to remain, much as she loved the children; she must go elsewhere and hide her disgrace.

"'But how came you to contract such a habit?' said I. And then she told me that she began by finishing what was left in the gla.s.ses of my friends and myself after dinner; then, as I never locked up the cellaret--the thirst becoming stronger and stronger--she helped herself from the bottles, till at last she had become a confirmed drunkard. I pitied her deeply, as you may well understand; and would have kept her on, but nothing would induce her to stay. However, I had learned a lesson, and had made up my mind: I was determined that thenceforward no one should ever sow the first seeds of drunkenness in my house, or have any countenance in drinking from my _example_. The very morning the unhappy woman left, I made a vigorous onslaught on the drink.

"'Fetch up the cellar!' I cried; and the cellar was forthwith fetched up. Beer barrels, wine bottles and spirit-bottles, dozens of pale ale and bitter beer, were soon dragged into light.

"'Now, fetch me the kitchen-poker!' I shouted; it was brought me, and I commenced such a smashing as I should think has never been witnessed before, nor is likely to be witnessed again. Right and left, and all round me, the yard was flooded with malt liquors, spirits and wines.

Then I knocked out the bungs of the casks, and joined their contents to the flood. You may suppose there was some little staring at all this, but it mattered nothing to me. I was resolved that what had ruined my poor nurse should never ruin any one else at my cost, or in my house; so from that day to this no alcoholic stimulant has pa.s.sed my lips; nor been given by me to man, woman, or child; nor, please G.o.d, ever shall be.--Now, my dear young friends, you have had the history of what first led me to become a total abstainer."

There was a silence for several minutes, which was at last broken by Hubert's asking,--

"And what became of the unhappy woman, dear uncle?"

"Ah! don't ask me. She went from bad to worse while she remained in the colony. For so it commonly is with drunkards, but most of all with female drunkards. I've known--and I thank G.o.d for it--many a reformed male drunkard; but when women take decidedly to drinking, it is very rare indeed to see them cured--at least, that has been _my_ experience.

I got poor nurse away with a friend of mine who was going in a temperance ship to England, hoping that the habit might be broken off during the voyage. But, alas! she broke out again soon after reaching home, and died at last a miserable death in a workhouse. But I see you look rather f.a.gged, Mr Oldfield. Shall we take a turn in the garden before it gets dark, and then perhaps you'll like a little music?"

And now we must leave Abraham Oliphant and Australia for a while, and return to Langhurst, and some of the earlier characters of our story.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

AN EXPLOSION IN THE PIT.

"No letter yet from our Sammul," cried Betty, wearily and sadly, as she came from the mill on a dreary night in the November after her brother's sudden departure. "I thought as how he'd have been sure to write to me.

Well, I suppose we must make ourselves content till he's got over the sea. But oh, it'll be weary work till we've heard summat from him."

"Hush, hush, there's a good bairn," said her mother, though the tears were all the while running down her own cheeks as she spoke; "don't take on so; you'll drive your fayther clean crazy. He's down in the mouth enough already. Come, don't fret in that fashion, Thomas; Sammul'll come back afore long: you've been crouching down by the hearth-stone long enough. If you'll be guided by me, you'll just take a drop of good ale, it'll liven you up a bit; you want summat of the sort, or you'll shrivel up till you've nothing but skin on your bones."

"Ale!" cried Thomas, indignantly; "ale'll not make me better--ale won't make me forget--ale won't bring back our Sammul, it's driven him far enough away."

"Well," said his wife, soothingly, "you must go your own way; only, if you keep a-fretting of that fashion, you'll not be able to do your work gradely, and then we shall all have to starve, and that'll be worse for you still."

"Better starve," replied her husband moodily, "nor ruin body and soul with the drink; I'll have no more of it."

"Well, you can please yourself;" replied Alice, "so long as you don't take me with you. But I must have my drop of beer and my pipe, I can't live without 'em; and so you may rest content with that; it's the truth, it is for sure."