The Book of the Bush by George Dunderdale (christmas read aloud .TXT) 📕

and approached the "old man" with his club.

"Shoot him with your revolver," said Gleeson. "If I let go his tail, he'll be ripping you with his toe."

"I might shoot you instead," said Philip; "better to club him. Hold on another moment."

Philip's first blow was dodged by the kangaroo, but the second fell fairly on the skull; he fell down, and Ossian, a big and powerful hound, seized him instantly by the throat and held on. The three men mounted their horses and rode away, but Philip's mare was, as usual, shying at every tree. As he came near one which had a large branch, growing horizontally from the trunk, his mare spring aside, carried him under the limb, which struck his head, and threw him to the ground. He never spoke again.

After the funeral, McCarthy rode over to the Rocky Waterholes to make some enquiries. He called at Mrs. Martin's residence, and he said:

"Mr. Philip told us he was married the day before the accident, but it seemed so strange, we could not believe it; so I thought I would just ride over and enquire about it, for, of course, if he had a wife, she will be entitled to whatever little property he left behind him."

"Yes, it's quite true," said Mrs. Martin. "They were married sure enough. He called here at Christmas, and said he would like to see Miss Edgeworth; but she was away on a visit to some friends. I asked him if he had any message to leave for her, but he said, 'Oh, no; only I thought I should like to see how she is getting along. That's all, thank you. I might call again at Easter.' So he went away. On last Easter Monday he came again. Of course I had told Miss Edgeworth, about his calling at Christmas and enquiring about her, and it made me rather suspicious when he came again. As you may suppose, I could not help taking notice; but for two days, nor, in fact, for the whole week, was there the slightest sign of anything like lovemaking between them. No private conversation, no walking out together, nothing but commonplace talk and solemn looks. I said to myself, 'If there is anything between them, they keep it mighty close to be sure.' On the Tuesday evening, however, he spoke to me. He said:

"'I hope you won't mention it, Mrs. Martin, but I would like to have a little advice from you, if you would be so kind as to give it. Miss Edgeworth has been living with you for some time, and you must be well acquainted with her. I am thinking of making a proposal, but our intercourse has been so slight, that I should be pleased first to have your opinion on the matter.'

"'Mr. Philip,' I said, 'you really must not ask me to say anything one way or the other, for or against. I have my own sentiments, of course; but nobody shall ever say that I either made a match or marred one.'

"Nothing happened until the next day. In the afternoon Miss Edgeworth was alone in this room, when I heard Mr. Philip walking down the passage, and stopping at the door, which was half open. I peeped out, and then put off my slippers, and stepped a little nearer, until through the little opening between the door and the door-post, I could both see and hear them. He was sitting on the table, dangling his boots to and fro just above the floor, and she was sitting on a low rocking-chair about six feet distant. He did not beat about the bush, as the saying is; did not say, 'My dear,' or 'by your leave, Miss,' or 'excuse me,' or anything nice, as one would expect from a gentleman on a delicate occasion of the kind, but he said, quite abruptly:

"'How would you like to live at Nyalong, Miss Edgeworth?'

"She was looking on the floor, and her fingers were playing with a bit of ribbon, and she was so nice and winsome, and well dressed, you couldn't have helped giving her a kiss. She never raised her eyes to his face, but I think she just looked as high as his boots, which were stained and dusty. The silly man was waiting for her to say something; but she hung down her head, and said nothing. At last he said:

"'I suppose you know what I mean, Miss Edgeworth?'

"'Yes,' she said, in a low voice. 'I know what you mean, thank you.'

"Then there was silence for I don't know how long; it was really dreadful, and I couldn't think how it was going to end. At last he heaved a big sigh, and said:

"'Well, Miss Edgeworth, there is no need to hurry; take time to think about it. I am going to ride out, and perhaps you will be good enough to let me know your mind when I come back.'

"Then he just shook her hand, and I hurried away from the door. It was rather mean of me to be listening to them, but I took as much interest in Miss Edgeworth as if she were my own daughter.

"'There is no need to hurry,' he had said, but in my opinion there was too much hurry, for they were married on the Saturday, and he rode away the same morning having to open school again on Monday.

"Of course, Miss Edgeworth was a good deal put about when we heard what had happened, through the papers, but I comforted her as much as possible. I said, 'as for myself, I had never liked the look of the poor man with his red hair and freckles. I am sure he had a bad temper at bottom, for red-haired men are always hasty; and then he had a high, thin nose, and men of that kind are always close and stingy, and the stingiest man I ever knew was a Dublin man. Then his manners, you must remember, were anything but nice; he didn't wasteany compliments on you before you married him, so you may just fancy what kind of compliments you would have had to put up with afterwards. And perhaps you have forgotten what you said yourself about him at Bendigo. You were sure he was a severe master, you could see sternness on his brow. And however you could have consented to go to the altar with such a man I cannot understand to this day. I am sure it was a very bad match, and by-and-by you will thank your stars that you are well out of it.'

"I must acknowledge that Miss Edgeworth did not take what I said to comfort her very kindly, and she 'gave me fits,' as the saying is; but bless your soul, she'll soon get over it, and will do better next time."

Soon after the death of Philip, Major Chisholm and his family left Nyalong, and I was appointed Clerk to the Justices at Colac. I sat under them for twelve years, and during that time I wrote a great quantity of criminal literature. When a convict of good conduct in Pentridge was entitled to a ticket-of-leave, he usually chose the Western district as the scene of his future labours, so that the country was peopled with old Jack Bartons and young ones. Some of the young ones had been Philip's scholars-viz., the Boyles and the Blakes. They were friends of the Bartons, and Old John, the ex-flogger, trained them in the art of cattle-lifting. His teaching was far more successful than that of Philip's, and when in course of time Hugh Boyle appeared in the dock on a charge of horse-stealing, I was pained but not surprised. Barton, to whose farm the stolen horse had been brought by Hugh, was summoned as witness for the Crown, but he organised the evidence for the defence so well that the prisoner was discharged.

On the next occasion both Hugh and his brother James were charged with stealing a team of bullocks, but this time the assistance of Barton was not available. The evidence against the young men was overwhelming, and we committed them for trial. I could not help pitying them for having gone astray so early in life. They were both tall and strong, intelligent and alert, good stockmen, and quite able to earn an honest living in the bush. They had been taught their duty well by Philip, but bad example and bad company out of school had led them astray. The owner of the bullocks, an honest young boor named Cowderoy, was sworn and gave his evidence clearly. Hugh and James knew him well. They had no lawyer to defend them, and when the Crown Prosecutor sat down, there seemed no loophole left for the escape of the accused, and I mentally sentenced them to seven years on the roads, the invariable penalty for their offence.

But now the advantages of a good moral education were brilliantly exemplified.

"Have you any questions to put to this witness?" asked the Judge of the prisoners.

"Yes, your Honour," said Hugh. Then turning to Cowderoy, he said: "Do you know the nature of an oath?"

The witness looked helplessly at Hugh, then at the Judge and Crown Prosecutor; stood first on one leg, then on the other; leaned down with his elbows on the edge of the witness-box apparently staggering under the weight of his own ignorance.

"Why don't you answer the question?" asked the Judge sharply. "Do you know the nature of an oath?"

Silence.

Mr. Armstrong saw his case was in danger of collapse, so he said: "I beg to submit, your Honour, that this question comes too late and should have been put to the witness before he was sworn. He has already taken the oath and given his evidence."

"The question is a perfectly fair one, Mr. Armstrong," said the Judge: and turning to the witness he repeated: "Do you know the nature of an oath?"

"No," said Cowderoy.

The prisoners were discharged, thanks to their good education.


A VALIANT POLICE-SERGEANT.

Sergeant Hyde came to my office and asked me to accompany him as far as Murray Street. He said there was a most extraordinary dispute between a white woman and a black lubra about the ownership of a girl, and he had some doubts whether it was a case within the jurisdiction of a police-court, but thought we might issue a summons for illegal detention of property. He wanted me to advise him, and give my opinion on the matter, and as by this time my vast experience of Justices' law entitled me to give an opinion on any imaginable subject, I very naturally complied with his request. He was, moreover, a man so remarkable that a request by him for advice was of itself an honour. In his youth he had been complimented on the possession of a nose exactly resembling that of the great Duke of Wellington, and ever since that time he had made the great man the guiding star of his voyage over the ocean of life, the only saint in his calendar; and he had, as far as human infirmity would permit, modelled his conduct and demeanour in imitation of those of the immortal hero.