Back in the old Forest—Jumper’s last home—Return of our hero
and heroine for good and all to Bulinda Creek—Conclusion and
farewell.
Mrs. Bell had some time before this given up all hopes of her daughter
becoming attached to any of the young visitors to Sydney whom she had
set her heart upon.
Addressing her husband upon the subject, some weeks previously, she
said,—
“It’s no good, Bell, I did ’ope she would take to some one of those
young men with a ’andle to their names; _they_ are ready enough to
come forward; but though she is pleasant and gay enough with them
all, it’s very soon, ‘Mother, riding at the Creek suits me better
than these stuffy rooms;’ and back we have to come to Bulinda. I ’ate
the Bush, and should be glad of a change to Tasmania or somewhere; it
would do Annie good too to be right away from the station.”
Two days after our hero and heroine had plighted their troth in the
little arbour, Mat, with Annie by his side, requested the whole of
the family to meet them on the verandah; and when they were assembled,
he told them of his wish—and Annie’s—to be married in the old country,
in his forest home, so that he might once more see the land of his
birth, before settling for good in Australia.
In this wish, the fair girl by his side seconded him, provided that
her father and mother would come home also. “Yes, that is what we
want,” added Mat, “and we ask Mr. Tabor as a great favour to come too,
and marry us.”
Many plans were discussed before the little family council separated,
but the wishes of Mat and Annie were ultimately agreed to.
The squire had long been contemplating a change for his wife, after
the rough times which she had been through, and as he actually hinted
at a month on the Continent, perhaps in Paris, Mrs. Bell appeared
suddenly to approve of the marriage of her daughter with our forester,
and professed herself as keen to make a start for the old country
without loss of time.
Tom decided to stay and look after the station. He had no attractions
in the old country, but much to occupy himself with at Bulinda Creek,
and Bell was relieved that he could leave such a good manager behind
him during his absence.
Parson Tabor was glad to have the chance of going to and returning
from England with those who were so dear to him, and, besides the
pleasure of their company during a long voyage, he had relations
at home, whom he had not seen for many years, and so he seized the
opportunity which might never occur again.
“Besides,” as he said to our hero with a smile, “I told you of my love
for Annie, which I fear now is a hopeless attachment, but at _least_ I
shall not now have the misery of pining in solitude, as I should have
if I stayed behind at the Creek.”
A few weeks later our hero and heroine found themselves in the New
Forest—a happy couple, indeed.
They had been married quietly at Boldre Church by Parson Tabor; the
latter had then accompanied Bell and his wife for a trip to Paris,
previous to their all returning to Australia together.
Mat and his bride were spending their honeymoon at Lyndhurst, or
rather making that little town their headquarters, for they were
seldom at home, but wandering about, sometimes on foot, but more often
mounted on forest ponies, together they explored the scenes of Mat’s
early life.
Our forester showed his bride everything connected with the adventures
of his youth. Round by Stoney Cross they rode into Boldre Wood. He
was able to show her the ruins of the cottage in which he had been
imprisoned. He took her into Vinney Ridge, and pointed out, in the
Blackwater Stream close by, the scene of his encounter with the
bloodhound.
Annie had often, during the voyage to England, expressed a wish to see
these places; for, besides being new to her, as she had never been
much beyond Burley, all these scenes were associated with the early
days of her hero.
But though _she_ seemed as though she would never tire of these forest
rambles, Mat confessed to her that some things about his old district
disappointed him.
The gipsies and most of his old friends were either dead or had
emigrated to other lands; some of the good old Forest families, it was
true, remained—such as the Youngs and Broomfields, but of a generation
that knew not him. Stephen Burns had long gone to join his brother on
the Darling Downs; Mat had paid the debt to his old friend and backer,
and on inquiry at Lyndhurst he found that the money had been received,
to his great relief, as it had never been acknowledged.
One matter which especially shook our hero’s pride in his forest home,
was the fact that most of the grand old trees associated with his
youth had been cut down for ship’s timbers. Only some of his ancient
friends in ‘Boldre Woods’ and ‘Vinney Ridge’ had been spared, and
another eye-sore to him was that he found the forest ‘fenced in,’ in
all directions. As he observed after one of their long rambles,—
“It is too small, Annie, there seems to be no room left, too
civilized, too taken up, none of the good _old_ breed of ponies left.
I suppose Australia has spoilt me; it is _yourself_ and _your_ country
I love, and we will soon return.”
Mat’s parents had settled down in their old age on a small farm
which they had been able to purchase and cultivate through the aid
of money sent home to them by their sons. When Tim arrived in the
forest, he found that the money so generously given him by the squire
would increase this farm of his father and mother, and also enable
him to improve the breed of the forest ponies. As he was not able to
do manual work this latter occupation suited him well; and when Mat
arrived he found that his brother had taken up his abode with the old
couple altogether. And the faithful “Jumper”?—
Shortly before Mat’s arrival in England, the old dog had taken his
last sleep. He had laid himself down in his usual place, at the foot
of Tim’s bed one night, and in the morning they found him dead, his
rough and scarred old body lying in the position he had taken up on
going to sleep,—a faithful guard to the last.
Tim took his dumb companion of many a hunt and many a fight, up in
his arms, and with tears rolling down his cheeks, spoke to him as
if addressing a human friend: “Oh! _my dog_, my _old_ dog—my _old
chum_, shall I never see you in this life again? Some have told me
that dogs have another world as well as us; then I _may_ meet you
again. Oh! I _can’t_ stand the look of that once affectionate eye.
‘Jumper,’ _come_.” And poor heart-broken Tim carried his last treasure
to the old gipsy camping ground, and there buried him deeply under a
gnarled old beech-tree, leaving an appropriate stone to mark his last
resting-place.
When the Squire, his wife, and Parson Tabor returned from their trip
to the Continent, they found that our hero and heroine were quite
ready, and indeed anxious to return to their Australian home; and
gladly did they again rejoice, when some few weeks later the little
party of five found themselves one balmy evening collected together on
the verandah of Bulinda Creek.
Thus we take leave of our forester; this man of humble birth, who,
like all brave men and true, entertained a modest opinion of his
own merits; who by manly and steadfast perseverance overcame all
difficulties, and who ever bore in mind and strove to act up to
that—to many of us difficult lesson—which _he_ had learnt at his
mother’s knee, namely, “to do to others as we would be done by;” which
precept Mat continued to carry out for long years after he had finally
settled down as a rich and prosperous squatter at Bulinda Creek,
proving it by his conduct in being not only ever ready to give a
helping hand to his white brethren, but by the kindness he showed and
the just feelings he displayed towards the blacks of every district,
both north and south; in which conduct he was ably seconded by his
kind old friend and adviser, Parson Tabor. Thus he showed that however
others might misjudge the natives, _he_ who knew them so well, if from
feelings of gratitude _alone_ would ever be their friend.
In these noble sentiments he was ever aided and encouraged by his
loving wife; and we now bid them a kind and long farewell, at the
moment when as our hero and heroine were once more wending their way
into the little arbour in Annie’s garden, Mat turned to the girl whose
hand was in his, with,—
“My darling, I am happy now, I have lived my troubles down, and have
won a dear and loving wife.”
FINIS.
GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LD., ST. JOHN’S HOUSE, CLERKENWELL RD., LONDON.
Transcriber’s Notes:
- Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
- Blank pages have been removed.
- Silently corrected typographical errors.
- Spelling and hyphenation variations made consistent.