Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 December 1890 — Master of the Mine. [ARTICLE]

Master of the Mine.

By Robert Buchanan.

CHAPTER IV— Continued. found myself standing in the middle of a quaint Cornish kitchen, gazing upon my newly found friends. The Individual who bad led me into the kitchen, and who turned out to be my uncle, was a tall, broadly; built man, dressed in a red stained suit of coarse flannel, said suit consisting merely of a shirt and a pair of trousers. His hands were big and brbad and very red. his head was thickly covered with coarse black hair, and he spoke the broadest ot Cornish dialect in a voice thunder. •Having finished my inspection of number one, I glanced at number two—namely, my aunt. She was a comely looking woman of forty, very stout and motherly in appearance. She wore a cotton dress,a large coarse apron, and a curio.,s cap, not uqlike the coifs so papular in Brittany. My amazement at the sight of these two individuals was so strong that I could scarcely force my lips to -utter a word; but if my surprise was great theirs seemed greater. After the first glance at me, they looked uneasily at one another, the genial smiles faded from their faces, and the words, of welcome died upon their lips. A pleasant interruption to all this was John Rudd, who at this moment came in with my trunk on his shoulder and placed it down on the kitchen door, then wiped his brow and opened his overcoat. * “Its martal bad - weather you’m brought alang wi-ye, Mr. Rudd.” said my aunt; “yar, ha’ summat to keepoff the rain." She handed him a glass of ale, which he drank. ~.. __d ———■— “Thank ye, missus.” said he, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth. Then be made a dive into the voluminous folds of his coat and produced a packet. “That be for you, missus,” said he; *a little present, wi’ John Rudd's reipects; tea and sugar, wi' a suitable inter iption o’ my awn making.” “Thank you, Mr. Rudd.” returned my aunt, taking the packet. “You’m rary kind.” “Read the warses, missus; read the warses!” said Mr. Rudd, whereupon she proceeded to do so. It was a proud moment for John Sudd; beseemed to expand with pleasure. And though to all intents and purposes he was gazing upon Mrs. Pendragon, he rolled one eye round my way, as if to watch the effect upon me. When the reading was done he •railed affably, while my uncle brought down his open hand heavily upon his knee. “Waal done, John, waal done?” cried my uncle heartily; while another voice, one which I then heard for the first time, said: “Oh, Mr. Rudd, what beautiful poetry you do write!” At the sound of the voice all eyes, mine amongst the rest, were turned upon the speaker, whom I discovered to be a little girl somewhat about' my own age, or perhaps a trifle younger, so pretty, and so quaintly dressed, she looked like a little Dresden china Shepherdess. “Wha, Annie!” said my aunt. “I declare I’d forgot all about ’eel” my uncle added. ‘Come yar, my lass, and say how do ye do to yer cousin’’ —; At this, the little girl came forward, and, gazing earnestly at me, timidly offered me her hand. Suddenly, John Rudd, who had been fumbling about his coat again, produced another packet, which he this time handed to my cousin. She opened it and found it contained a brightly coloured shawl and a sheet of foolscap, on which some lines were penned. Knowing Mr. Rudd’s weakness, Annie proceeded to read the lines: “To Annie Pendragon, who charm* all beholders, John Rudd, of St Garlott’s,’ sends this for her shoulders; That she'll always be happy, In sunshine and In flood, 'Tie the wish of her friend and admirer, J. Rudd." i Having read the verses, Annie fell to volubly admiring them and the shawl; but Mr. Rudd, feeling the praise too much for him, gleefully took his departure. He paused at the door, however, to give me a last look, and to express a wish that we should become better acquainted.

The moment he was gone, attention was again concentrated upon me. My aunt took a good look at me, trying to find traces of my mother and father in my My uncle discovered I was both wet and cold; while Annie said: “Why don't you give him his supper, mother? I’m surb he must be hungry after that long ride wi’ Mr. Rudd.”

Annie’s suggestion was adopted, and we all sat down to supper. While I ate. I had leisure to look about me. The kitchen was large and homely in the extreme, with a clean stone-paved floor, beneath and great black rafters above, from which hung flitches of the bacon, bundles of tallow candles, and divers articles of attire. The ingle was great and broad, with seats within it, formed of polished black oak, and the fire burned on the open hearth. Ih one corner was a recess, with curtains, containing a bed, which I afterwards

discovered was to be mine for the night. Very little was said or done that evening. If I was antonished at the sight of my relatives, they were equally so at the sight of me. A sort of constraint came upon us all. I was not sorry to find that they were very early people, and that at ten o'clock they retired, and left me to make myself as comfortable asT could in the press bed in the kitchen. My head was aching, partly from fatigue and partly from excitement, and no sooner did I lay it upon the pillow than 1 fell into a sound sleep. • . CHAPTER V. ANNIE. I was awakened next morning by ' Um sound •! voices in the chamber,

’ and. looking forth from my sleeping place. I saw my uncle in his stained flannel clothes, devouring a substan- | tial bi-eakfast of tea and home baked ( cakes of my aunt's making, waited on ! by little Annie, Who,seen in the bright morning "Tight, looked ex en cleaner and neater than she had the night before. ’ • 4 little woman.” my uncle was saving, T“who put that sai t ;o’ nawnsense into your head! I war i rant Tawm Penruddock, or some other ' gomeril, ha’ been up here clacking to mother. Dawn’t go dawn the mine paw more? Why, the mine’s bread : and butter, vittles and drink, to you. and me?” I “Tout Pen ruddock says 'taint gafer * father,” returned Annie; • and Tom ought to know, for he’s worked there .ever sinen ha born.” j •41 e knaw sno more thanth toehunk o’ bread, little woman. He's the idlest i chap o’the gang, Tawm is. There. dav. n’t you worFit. The Lawd’sunder the earth as well as above it, and ’ll take care of father, never fear!” Unseen in my corner, I slipt on my clothes, but by the time I had done so my uncle had left the cottage. Annie wns still there, and she took me to a little bed room upstairs where I washed and brushed my hair. /Descending again to the quaint old kitchen, I found my aunt just come in from ■ feeding the poultry. She' gave me a I kindly nod: then sitting down at the I table, drew me gently to* her, and [pushing the hair off my forehead, looked thoughtfully into my face., ; • -Det me look at ’ee by daylight,lad! Ay, I was right—you bo as like your poor father as one pea is like another. Lawd forbid you should e'er be half as clever!”

“Why not, mother?” asked Annie, who was looking on with a smile, ‘ ‘Because he were too clever to settle down. He rambled up and dawn like amoor pony, till the Lawd took ’un. and ne’er made. himself- a home; and when he died there was none of his kith and kin near him J,o close his eyes. Thar, lad, sit dawn and take your brakfast. We’ll try to mak a man of’ee for my poor sister’s sake.” This sudden allusion to my dead parents, coupled with the strangeness of my surroundings, brought before me more forcibly than ever the utter forlornness of my position, and sent the tears starting to my eyes. I fancy Annie noticed this, for she quickly changed the subject, asked her mother for some more hot sconces, and put a chair for me at the table. This diversion gave me ample time to recover myself. Feeling heartily ashamed of my exhibition of weakness, I swallowed the lump in my throat, dashed theback of my hand across my eyes, and determined from that hour forth to remember that tears did not become a man. The breakfast was appetising—perhaps from the very strangeness of it, Never before in my life I had placed before me at eight o’clock in the morning, a meal of hot sconces, boiled potatoes and milk; yet I mightily pleased my aunt by disposing of enough to keep me going for the rest of the day. “Ah! lad,” she exclaimed, as her bright eye kindled with pleasure, “you’s gawt some Cornish blood in ’ee after all, and can eat your vittles with a relish. You’m got no proud, stomach, my lad, and will be a man like your uncle before lawng.” The breakfast being over, my aunt and Annie busied themselves with ••setting things to rights;” and, feeling somewhat in the way, I took my cap and strolled out, to find out if j could what) sort of a country I had been landed in. The kitchen door opened directly inte the “back-yard,” as they called it, and there I f oundthe poultry leisurely picking up the grain which my aunt had given them before break-fast. Here I found, too, a mongrel puppy, a sort of cross between a collie and a greyhound, it seemed to me, which, the moment I made my appearance, came wriggling, serpent fashion about my feet. I passed through the yard, round to the front of the house, the puppy following close at my heels. The front of the cottage was very trim and neat; and there was a very small garden; here, which was tolerably well cultivated; I afterwards learned it belonged to Annie, and owed its pretty appearance entirely to her hands. It was a curious illustration of the mingling in her of the useful and ornamental. She was passionately fond of flowers, and two-thirds of her little garden was devoted to them while in the other third were beds of mustard and cress, radishes, and celery, with which she regularly supplied “relishes for the ■table. - I—z-v

Having made a rapid survey of the little garden, I turned my eyes on the prosject before and beside me. The cottage, which stood alone on a slight eminence, was faced immediately by the high road which swept past and curved on to the villiage, which lay some!' quarter of a mile to the left, Immediately before me was what seemed to me a dark morass, bleak and barren enough, and dotted here and there with clumps of stunted trees. Beyond was the sea—calm, cold, and glimmering like’ steel. I strolled carelessly along the road, amusing myself by throwing a stick and trying to teach the puppy to retrieve. A couple of hundred yards from the cottage, I came to an iron grate, surrounded by a plantation of fir-trees, and with a long avenue leading I knew not whither. Here I paused, and, without thinking I threw the stick as far as I could up the avenue. But the pupy crouched at my feet, and declined to stir. So I opened the gate and went in. I had not got many yards when a sharp voice arrested me. •■Here, I say, you!” it cried. ‘-What are you doing here?” ~ I looked up and saw a boy of about my own age, dressed like a young

gentleman. He bad black hair, black eyebrows, that came close together, and a hanging lip. I saw at once, by his dress and manner, that he was no miner’s son. * -Look here, you’re trespassing, you know*” he_continLed; then suddenly, “Why, you don’t belong to St. Gurlott’s. What’s your name?” 1 told my name, -and added that I was a stranger, having come to the villiage.only last night to live with my uncle and aunt Pendragon. In a moment his facechanged; aeon temp', ous sneer curled his lip as he said* “Old Pendragon's boy, eh?” Then: “What do you rneah by wearing thnte clothes? I thought you were a gentieman!” - t '-■

T am as much a gentleman as you,” I said. “What?” • “Oh, I’m not .afraid of you! Doyo : know what they’d do with you where I come from? They’d thrash you and send you to bed, to learn better manners,” He clenched his fist, and advanced threateningly? towards me. 'Then looking at me from head to foot, and finding that at all events I was his superior in point of physical strength, he changed nis mind. I whistled up the puppy, and walked away. When I reached the cottage again. 1 came face to face again with Annie. J “Where have you been?” she atked. 1 told her I had been rambling idly about. She nodded brightly. “I’ve got no work to do to-day,” she said; “leastways net much. If \on like, I’ll ask mother to let me come out and go for a walk.”

“Do.” I said, and off she flew. She was a long time gone—so long*, that I began to fear the permission had been denied. She came at length, however, when I saw the cause of her delay. Her print frock had been exchanged for a stout gown, She wore a pair.of silk gloves, and a het which was evidently intended for Sundays only. As my eye wandered over these things, she blushed and tried to appear/un conscious. “Which way shall we go?” she said. I was so perfectly unacquainted with the district that the question seemed to me absurd. I left the choice to her. “Which way do like best?” I said. She pointed with her hand. “I like to go there, ” she said, ‘/to walk OH the shore." “On the shore?” “Yes; don’t yeu see that glittering over there? That’s the sea, though it looks like a bit of the commOn, now it’s so still. I like to go there and walk on the shore, and see the ships pass along, and listen to the washing of the waves on the stones.” We accordingly started off across the moorland towards the sea, and after a mile’s walk reached the cliffs. Wild and desolate they overhung the ocean, which was at high tide. A narrow path through the rocks led down to the water's edge. Descending it, with the sea-gulls hovering over us, we reached the shore, and found there a sandy creek, and a solitary wooden house. We looked up; the crags rose above our heads right up into the blue heaven. Then we turned our faces towards the sea. “It isn’t like the sea, is it?” I asked as we stood side by side! it looks like a big broad river.” ‘"•Now,” she assented; “but it isn’t always like this. The waves are sometimes high as houses, and they roar like wild beasts. Then there's been ships, big ships that go to India, broken up here on the rocks, and drowned men and women have been cast ashore.” “Have you seen them?” “No; I’vs only heard tell of them. When the winds are blowing.like* that, and the wrecks come, mother and mo stop in the house to pray for father. “My uncle? Why, he’s * miner;” “Yes; but he’s one o’ the life-boat men, too, ’cause he’s so strong. Look at that wooden house; thafte where they keep the life boat.” In following the direction indicated by her pointing finger, my eye fell upon something else besides the house which contained the life boat; a rude coble lay floating in the water a few yards from where we stood. It was attached to an iron ring driven into the rocks.

“Whose boat is that?” I asked. “Oh, that belongs to John Rudd, the carrier; him that brought you to our house.’-’ “Why, What does he do with a boat?" “Nothing; only he found it drifting in from the sea. Then the master took it away from him, saying it was his, and offered it for Sale; as nobody wanted it, he got it back again by paying a little to the master.” • ‘And what does he do with it now?” “He goes out fishing sometimes, when he's got the time. Sometimes he gives us a treat. He took me out in it once.” “Did you like it?” “Oh yes’.” “Would you like to go again?” “What—now?” “Yes, now. Suppose we take the boat and pull out for a bit; it would be good fun—better than staying here,” She hesitated. There w.,s evidently such a difference in the size of John Rudd and me. ••Do come,” I urged; the “oars are here ready, and I can pull as well as John Rudd.” , Still she hesitated, but yielded finally. We pushed out the boat together, and I pulled away out on to the dead calm sea. How pleasant it was there, with the sun pouring its golden beams upon us, and the water ' smiling around and gently lapping the boat's side! Annie took off her gloves, and trailed her fingers in the water; then she leaned over and looked down 1 1 into the emerald depths below, while ! my eyes again swept the prospect in--land. ■ • [TO CONTINUED.]