Читать книгу Tales for the Bush - Mary Theresa Vidal - Страница 3

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THOMAS and Anne Thompson were among those who determined to leave England for New South Wales. They had been married eight years; their family was increasing, and labor becoming scarcer and scarcer. They heard of other families emigrating and that they easily got high wages, and lived in plenty: so they thought with their four children they would do so also. They were both honest, hard working and strong people, and Anne had been well brought up by a careful and pious mother, who had lived many years as servant in the squire's family. Anne was her only child, and she had been able to keep her at school, and, what is of far more consequence, she had set her a good example. Old Nurse Gordon, as she was still called, was well provided for by her former master's family, and though it was near breaking her heart when she heard of their plans to emigrate, she could not find any reason against it. She laid down her spectacles on the old Bible from which she had been reading, and, wiping away the tear from her eye with the corner of her white apron, she patted her little grandchild's head and answered, "well, Anne dear, I'm not learned enough to gainsay you, may be 'tis just as you and Tom say; but, if it was God's will, I should have wished to have you close my old eyes and see me laid in the grave--but His will be done!"

"Aye mother, that's the way to look on it," said Tom "cheer up, and we'll save you a little something in that country which will go to make you more comfortable."

"Thank ye kindly, Tom," said the old woman, "but I am, thank God, well cared for-while my missis lives, I shall never want--night and day I pray God to bless her and her's--and you must do so too, for oh! it's a cruel comfort to think that, though we've no silver nor gold, we have one way of repaying they that are kind--we can pray to God for them. And now," continued she, "let's have a cup of tea together," and she and her daughter spread the tea-things and produced the loaf.

This was the last time they ever met in that little cottage. It was Sunday evening. The old woman wore her Sunday gown, and white apron; the meadows seen from the door looked green; the sun set very gloriously, and threw its slanting red beams on them as they sat: the roses and sweet briar smelt very sweetly and they heard the chimes of the village church; for in that place they chimed every Sunday evening. As they sat, feeling sorrowful and sad, the old mother again spoke, "I'm thinking that's a sound ye'll not hear yonder; I suppose there's no church bells across the seas."

"I suppose not," said Tom, "it is a new country, a fine place for farming and grazing."

"Well, I hope God will prosper you--but mind my last words--when I'm dead and buried, mind my words`honor the sabbath day, and keep it holy.' When once we forget this, we don't know where to stop: and Anne, my dear, see I give you this book, this Prayer Book; use it, and teach the children out of it; look, my name is on it--read it Tom." Tom read--"this book was given to Anne Gordon by her mistress as a reward for her punctual attendance at church."

"Yes," said the old woman as she followed her son-in-law's voice--"yes, that's it--and now I give it to you, Anne Thompson, with my blessing; and you Tom, you have been a kind and sober husband to her; and now you are going so far, be sure you mind all your duty--may be there'll be no good parson like Mr. Howe--but remember his words, and keep your church and fear God."

It was now time for them to go, so putting the children's hats and bonnets on, Thomas and Anne returned home; they had a walk of a quarter of a mile, but it was a pleasant evening and they talked cheerfully of the future; how they should save money and buy a farm, and, perhaps, grow rich.