Fern Vale.

Volume 3.

by Colin Munro.

CHAPTER I.

"What sport shall we devise, here in this garden, To drive away the heavy thought of care?"

RICHARD II., _Act 3, Sc. 4_.

Three days after that to which we brought down our narrative in the last chapter the morning broke calmly and serenely over the wooded wastes of the bush; and while the pleasant zephyr of the morning tempered the rays of the sun, as he sped his course to the zenith, a happy party of equestrians might have been seen cantering by the bridle path between Strawberry Hill and Brompton. That party consisted of our friends, Mrs., Miss, and Tom Rainsfield, and the Fergusons, accompanied by their black boy Joey. The van was led by the first named lady, accompanied by William Ferguson, while the others followed riding two abreast, having paired off in a manner most congenial to themselves. The rear was brought up by Joey and William's dogs, who coursed through the bush in seeming delight at the prospect of wearing off a little of the rust that had grown on them from their late inertness.

They had ridden for nearly four hours when they slackened their speed a little as the noon-day sun became more powerful; while, at that moment, they came to a beautiful little spot where a gra.s.sy slope terminated in a lagoon, whose waters appeared to the travellers clear and refreshingly cool. Here Mrs. Rainsfield drew up her horse, and proposed a halt for tiffin; which being generally a.s.sented to, the party dismounted. The bridles of their horses being each fastened round a tree, some refreshments were produced by Tom from his valise; and the friends sat down in a shady spot on the green sward, and partook with that hearty zest that can only be appreciated by those who have been similarly situated.

When perfectly refreshed they proceeded on their way, and arrived at Brompton before the close of the evening. There they were hospitably received by Mr. and Mrs. Smithers, and very graciously by Bob, who was all urbanity for the occasion. They found several of the guests had also arrived, those, who like themselves had arrived from a long distance; and the house then was as much a scene of gaiety as if it had been the grand reunion itself. The evening pa.s.sed pleasantly enough; but, our object being more particularly to picture to the reader the _fetes_ of the following day, we will draw a veil over the company for the night, and introduce them again on the morning.

The morning in due time came; and was simply a repet.i.tion of those common to a Queensland summer. A cloudless sky spanned the horizon, in which the sun had a tropical brilliancy, without the scorching power incidental to most sunny climes. The air was genial and salubrious, and the balmy breeze bore on its placid wings the aroma of the surrounding acacia and mimosa. It was such a day as poets love to picture, but which, to the incredulous matter of fact denizens of "foggy England," a description only generates a confirmed and unqualified pyrrhonism. With all the exercise, however, of the scepticism of our friends in the "old country," it, nevertheless, does not diminish the l.u.s.tre of such glorious sunshine as, we again repeat, is to be found nowhere in such tolerant perfection as in Queensland, and which marked the morning to which we allude. Perhaps the weather was a little warmer than usual, and the atmosphere drier; rather more so, in fact, than the settlers desired, for their rivers and creeks were getting low, and many were desiring rain to refresh their gra.s.s, and refill their water-holes and courses. However, such desideratum had no consideration with the party a.s.sembled at Brompton, whose sport at the time they seemed determined nothing should mar.

The great _fete_ of the day was to be the races; and it was then that the agrarian beauties of Brompton showed to advantage. It may be remembered in an early chapter of our story we gave a cursory sketch of the station, but in the event of its topography having escaped the memory of the reader, we will again partially repeat the description.

For some considerable distance down the bank of the Gibson river the land was almost perfectly level, and unusually free from timber. It was fenced off into paddocks of considerable size. Towards the centre of one of these was a swamp, from which the surrounding ground had just sufficient rise to const.i.tute it the reservoir for the drainage of the land; while towards the river, and immediately on the bank, the land rose in a little knoll. Here then was a naturally formed race course; and, by the erection of a few posts, a course was marked out that for amenity, level, turf, and convenience of sight, it would be difficult to surpa.s.s.

Towards eleven o'clock nearly all the expected guests having arrived, and the ground became a lively scene as the gay and well-mounted equestrians cantered in laughing and merry groups backwards and forwards; some few, more exhilarated or pedantic than the rest, trying the course and the mettle of their steeds. The guests of the Smitherses were not the only ones who had congregated to witness the sport. Other visitors of a more plebeian character, and self-invited, were there; all those within a circuit of some thirty miles, who by any possibility could obtain release from their work, had camped themselves in the neighbourhood to be spectators. The company had ridden over the ground, and had dispersed in all directions; when the horses "entered to run,"

decorated with their party-coloured rosettes, and led by their respective riders carrying their saddles, were descried coming on to the course; and speedily the scattered parties converged to the knoll we have mentioned, and which now served for a grand stand.

The horses approached the post; and the necessary preliminaries having been gone through, they a.s.sumed their places; when the few of the spectative portion of the company, who still remained in the way, speedily retired, responsive to the call of "clear the course;" and, after the usual amount of "false starts," the signal was given that was unanimously acted upon, and away went the horses.

Horse-racing is the same all the world over, at least in all parts of the globe where the Anglo-Saxon race holds sway. Therefore we need not tire our readers by giving a prolix account of this one in particular.

We will merely say that the usual excitement prevailed at the start, when the horses and their riders received respectively their due amount of praise from their various admirers, whose bets were interchanged on the result of the struggle. That the exciting anxiousness in watching the progress round the course was there equally apparent That the various hopes and fears of the betters as they witnessed the pulling up or the falling away of their respective favourites; the intensity of excitement; the uttered remarks; and the increasing watchfulness, as some slight rise on the plain or piece of heavy ground tried the mettle of the high-blooded animals, were all to be seen and heard there; and that the other excitements of such a scene were equally noticeable. That breathless interest as the horses approach the straight run to the winning-post; the last exciting struggle of man and beast, when the impatience of the former is administered to the latter in whip and spur; the shouts of the jockeys mingled with the snorting of the steed, when both are blended in the thunder of the latter's hoofs, which shakes the very turf; while the straining animals pa.s.s the post with the seeming velocity of steam.

As the panting and foam-covered horses, and exhausted-looking riders, returned to the scales, the tongues of the a.s.semblage were loosened; the groups reunited; and, in the interval between that and the next race, cantered about; while some of the younger equestrians emulated among themselves the previous compet.i.tors. A small tent had been erected on the bank of the river for the dispensation of refreshments, and for a shady retreat for the ladies; and thither many resorted.

At this period of the amus.e.m.e.nts our friends had formed themselves into a group with Mr. and Mrs. Smithers; but without Bob, who had been a rider, and was the winner of the late race. They had leisurely ridden round the course, and had returned to the stand, when Eleanor expressed to John Ferguson (in whose company she had been riding) a desire to dismount, and take a seat in the tent. He was instantly out of his saddle a.s.sisting her to the ground, and (after giving their horses in charge of a black boy) handed her to a seat in the shade. Bob Smithers, who had divested himself of his riding costume for his ordinary habiliments, then entered; and rudely brushing past John, advanced to the girl and took her hand, while he exclaimed:

"Come along with me, Eleanor, I want you."

The abrupt manner of his entrance, his forcible abduction of the lady, and his uncouth behaviour to himself, rather annoyed John. But the look of patient endurance, mingled with entreaty, which Eleanor cast upon her rough protector, struck our hero as containing more melancholy and suffering than was to be expected in a young affianced bride, whose nuptials were speedily approaching. It more than convinced him that his friend Tom was right when he said that Eleanor Rainsfield could never be happy with Bob Smithers. With a mind strangely agitated between fears and hopes John emerged from the tent to see the being he loved leaning on the arm of his rival, and going through the ceremony of several introductions.

She freely entered into conversation with her new-made friends; but the party being augmented by some others, to whom we presume Bob Smithers did not condescend to introduce her, he led her away; and they walked arm in arm to another part of the ground, apparently in earnest discourse. She was laying her hand upon his arm, while she looked in his face, and seemed anxious to impress something upon him; while he appeared to listen attentively to her remarks, though he ever and anon burst out into a loud laugh and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed a few monosyllables, which on each occasion created a faint smile on the features of his lovely companion.

John Ferguson witnessed all this, and his heart sank within him. Never, thought he, would woman hang on and talk thus with man, if she did not love him. "Ah!" he mentally exclaimed, "she loves him devotedly; fool that I was not to believe this before. Strange infatuation that led me on to hope, when she herself told me as plainly as she could there was no hope. I am doomed to disappointment I see; she never can be mine, for she loves Bob Smithers." And with that melancholy solace John left the spot of his soliloquy.

What was the nature of the conversation that so disturbed his peace of mind we do not deem it necessary to reveal, but we are disposed to think that our love-sick friend came to a too hasty conclusion upon the nature of the communicant's symptoms. John Ferguson was not sufficiently versed in women's little natures to be able to construe aright their motives in their actions, or the impulses that actuate them in their deportment.

His dejection was, consequently, the more acute from the construction he had put upon Eleanor's conduct. It was true she was engaged to the man with whom he saw her converse, but he never dreamt to ask himself the question, if that circ.u.mstance was not, in a great measure, owing to his own dilatoriness; not to cla.s.sify his supineness under a more sheepish head.

He was sauntering away in his usual despondent mood when Tom Rainsfield approached him from behind, administering, as he did so, a smart slap on the shoulder, with the exclamation: "Why, John, what is the matter with you? have you been visited by a myth? for you are as white as a sheet.

Come along with me, and I will give you some fun; William and I have been looking for you all over the ground;" and, without waiting for an answer or an objection, he led him off to where a party of gentlemen had a.s.sembled to witness the next race. Amongst them were Dr. Graham, Mr.

Brown, and some others, which it is needless for us in our history to trouble the reader by bringing forward.

When the race was finished they speedily made their arrangements for the proposed sport Tom had alluded to, which was none other than a Kangaroo hunt. Mounting their horses, accompanied by some powerful kangaroo dogs (of which William's figured not the least conspicuously), and, with as many guns as could be mustered on the station, they started into the bush in a direction where they antic.i.p.ated finding game.

These dogs, of which we have made mention, we may be forgiven for a short digression to describe. They are a breed of the gaze-hound species, though in many respects they are peculiar to themselves. The stock was originally obtained from a cross of the Scotch staghound and the English greyhound, and has made a race which combine in their character the strength and courage of the former with the fleetness of the latter, of whom, in colour and form, they have the greatest resemblance. At the same time they are possessed of a muscular developement which is essential to enable them to endure the severe conflicts to which they are frequently subjected.

The party had not ridden far before they descried a herd of kangaroos, though not within range of shot; the guns, therefore, were instantly slung, and the dogs and riders gave chase.

The kangaroo as, doubtless, our readers are perfectly aware, is anything but a graceful animal in its movements. Its fore legs are very short, and, one would think, of little use, either for ambulation or defence; but the paws are armed with strong and sharp claws, and in the diminutive limb to which they are are attached, are possessed of considerable strength, and can be used defensively with immense effect.

In their propulsion, however, these crural appendages are perfectly unavailable; for the animals propel their unwieldy looking bodies by long bounding leaps on their hind legs (which are long and powerful), springing not from their feet, but by an impulsion from the whole leg, from the hock joint to the toe, the whole of which length meets the ground at every leap. In this motion, unsightly as it appears, they are very fleet, frequently distancing the hardest rider, and only being brought to bay by the dogs after a tedious chase.

The kangaroos were no sooner sighted by our party than they were away, the dogs with the lead, down hills across gullies, and up slopes; through thick underwood, where the exercise of the greatest care was necessary for the rider to preserve his seat; over fallen logs, and under pendent branches; dangers frequently occuring simultaneously, overhead and under foot, and requiring the firmest seat, and the quickest eye, to avert. All these, which would make the heart of many a bold steeplechaser quail, but which are incidental to a kangaroo hunt, were successively gone through by each member of the present party; and after an hour's hard riding, the foremost horseman, who had with difficulty kept the dogs within sight, halted when they came to a stand; and the whole of the sportsmen collected to witness the fight.

An "old man" kangaroo sat on his haunches in a swamp, with his back to a tree, dealing blows right and left with his epitomized limbs to those of his a.s.sailants who ventured within his reach. The kangaroo had got into water of sufficient depth to enable him to sit up in it, and guard himself in the manner we have mentioned, while the dogs were raised off their feet, and had to attack him at considerable disadvantage. They, however, were in point of number superior to the game, and the entire pack (six in number) boldly rushed to the charge. Though they were successfully beaten off on each attack, and nearly all receiving wounds that would, probably, produce scars of no mean magnitude, they as frequently rallied, and returned to the fight.

After looking on for some time, and perceiving that the "old man" was too knowing for the dogs, one of the party despatched him with a shot, when he was dragged from his entrenchments, his body deprived of its tail (which was carried off as a trophy), and left for the dogs to do the work of further demolition. The hunting party then returned to the station, but, not being so hasty in their homeward progress as they were in their outward, it was late in the afternoon before they reached the scene of festivities. The company at the time was breaking up from the race-course to return to the house to dine, which important business of the day having been got over, the guests amused themselves in various ways until the hour of the _coup de main_, the grand finale--the ball.

We have already explained that a short distance from the house stood the wool-shed of the station; and at the time of which we write was comparatively empty, so much so that the bales of wool waiting for transmission down the country occupied only a small s.p.a.ce in the building, to which we will, with the kind permission of our readers, in imagination, transport them. The external appearance of "the shed" was not such as to give the beholder any very exalted idea of internal splendour; consequently, upon an entrance the eye was instantly struck with the taste and skill displayed in the ornate arrangements. The bareness of the slab walls was relieved, if not entirely concealed, by the tasteful manipulations of the foliate decorator. At the head of the room, in the midst of a collection of variously tinted green foliage of numerous forms and leaf, were displayed in letters, some with the yellow blossoms of the acacia, the magic word "love," under which was entwined, with the wild vine and the flower of the sarsaparilla, that emblem of mutual affection, a true lover's knot. Above it was a star of palm leaves and fern, radiating from a centre, which was concealed by an immense stag's horn fungus. The side walls were similarly, though not so elaborately, decorated, and on them shone forth "mirth," and "concord,"

accompanied by various other devices; while at the head of the room, at the feet of love, stood a piano, which had been removed from the house, to provide the "spirit of the ball."

The room was illuminated by a bunch of lights, hanging from a rafter in the centre. Though simply an extemporized chandelier from the hand of a bush carpenter, it had its material so tastefully hid, by the same genius that had decorated the walls, that it answered the purpose admirably for which it was intended. If it did not surpa.s.s in effect the most brilliant crystals, it was at least pretty and unique, and, with the emerald tints in its reflection, imparted a pleasing and subdued light, which favourably contrasted its sombre illumination with the trying glare of the sumptuous city ball-room. The seats were arranged round the sides of the room, and had their rough nature concealed in the bush fashion, by being overspread with scarlet blankets, which gave them the appearance of comfortable ottomans, and afforded a pleasing relief, both visual and corporeal. The opposite end of the building was part.i.tioned off by a suspended carpet, which, by being gathered up a little in one corner, afforded a means of entrance to what appeared to be the sanctum, but which, in fact, contained the supper and refreshment tables, duly caparisoned and loaded with the good things of this life.

The guests congregated in the ball-room at an hour that would have shocked the sensibilities of English ladies of _haut-ton_. But ceremony was a thing not worth studying by the lady-guests at Brompton; they had no occasion to retire to their boudoir and spend hours in getting themselves up for the evening, or, when their personal adornments had been completed, to sit waiting until the arrival of a genteel hour, in an agony of mind lest they should mar the perfection of their soubrettes' art. Enjoyment was the order of the day at Brompton, and when it was proposed, shortly after coffee was handed round in the drawing-room, that the company should adjourn to the ball-room, the guests made the necessary transition; and in a few minutes the house was entirely vacated.

The ladies of the company were for the most part married; hence we may not be accused of partiality in declaring that our two friends, Eleanor and Kate, far surpa.s.sed in beauty all their compeers, and shared between them the adulation of the sterner animals. It could not be satisfactorily determined which was the belle of the evening; for the admiration of the gentlemen was about equally apportioned, and it was difficult to decide between two such blooming beauties.

We think we hear some of our readers enquire, "how were the ladies dressed?" On that point, fair mesdames, we would crave your especial indulgence. We know that is a theme on which you love to dilate; but we (though delighted to gaze upon your charming forms, graced by the alluring symmetry of your well-fitting and becoming attire) confess ourselves as ignorant as babes in the technicalities of habilimentary detail. However, thus much our observations befriended us. We can affirm that the chief characteristics of the costumes of the gentler s.e.x were becoming neatness and chaste simplicity, without that unblushing display which we have so frequently noticed in gay circles; and which, we must confess, does not accord with our exalted idea of female modesty, innocence, and virtue. The manner of _our_ heroines was frank, candid, and gay; without frivolity, affectedness, or coquetry; and their costumes neat and ladylike.

The hand of Eleanor Rainsfield was so much desired in the mazy dance that John sought in vain for an opportunity of soliciting a partic.i.p.ation with her in the pleasures of the evening, or even of entering into conversation with her, until she had danced with nearly all the gentlemen in the room. Then, she having been led to a seat near where our despondent hero sat, he seized the occasion to ask her to dance, which she promised to do after obtaining a short rest. During the interval they fell into a sort of desultory conversation; but they were not destined long to enjoy even this intercourse; for Bob Smithers espying the occupation of his "lady-love," hastened to remove her from an influence he in no way relished.

"Eleanor," said he, "I want you to dance with me."

"I am engaged for the next dance, Robert," she replied.

"To whom?" he asked.

"To Mr. Ferguson," she answered.

"Oh, never mind, you'll dance with me," said her lord. "Your engagement with me always ranks in precedence of others; and I am sure Mr. Ferguson will not mind looking for another partner."

"Mr. Ferguson has been waiting until I was disengaged, Robert," said Eleanor, "on purpose to dance with me; so I must keep myself engaged to him for the next dance, but will devote the following one to you."

"Well, as you like," exclaimed Bob Smithers, in none of the most amiable moods; "if you want to dance with Mr. Ferguson you can, but I wanted to dance with you myself;" and, casting a look of intense malignity on the object of his detestation, and one of equal rancour on his affianced, he strode to another part of the room.

Neither look had been lost on the parties to whom they had been directed; in John they caused emotions of no pleasurable nature, whereas Eleanor treated the truculence of Smithers with a calm benignity. The moistened dewdrop, however, that gathered in the corner of her eye, discovered to the anxious and watchful perception of John Ferguson the hidden sorrow that rankled in her breast, and which she strove to smother, dreading its discovery to the world.

As might be imagined, under such circ.u.mstances, the dance was gone through with mere mechanical action, and with an undisturbed silence; for the thoughts of both parties were too much occupied on matters having no immediate connexion with the operation of dancing to indulge in much conversational intercourse. Besides which they both, or at least John, was conscious of the jealous eye of Smithers following them in every movement; and therefore felt the more uncomfortable. It was a relief to both when the music ceased, and John led his partner (who expressed fatigue) to a seat; but she had hardly relinquished his arm before she was pounced upon by Bob, who, as he carried her off, scowled fiercely on his unfortunate rival.

John Ferguson was of an easy temper, but no man likes being grossly insulted, and supplanted in the service of the one he loves, therefore he felt the contumely to which he was subjected; and to calm his ruffled temper, and to seek refreshment to his aching head, and an emollient to his fevered brain, he walked out into the cool of the evening atmosphere. He continued to wander, with his gaze fixed in a thoughtful abstraction on the star-lit firmament, contemplating apparently the argentuous brilliancy of the lunar orb travelling its ethereal course, when his meditations were unceremoniously interrupted by the approach of Smithers, who hastily confronted him with the following expression: