L P Fisher
VOLUME VI.
ALBANY, OREGON, NOVEMBER 19, 1873.
NO. 81.
U)XE VP A HVM TREE.
New South Wales is a colony
peculiarly liable to floods. Its riv
ers generally take their rise iu the
lotty mountain ranges, and in the
early part of their course are joined
by numberless tributary streams.
When the rainy season has set in
which generally commences about
the middle of May the down-pour
sotfetimes continues for six weeks
at a time, and then these rivers
overflow their banks and flood the
surrounding country iar and near,
forming, in many places, miniature
seas. Upon the occasions hun
dred of farmers are ruined, thou
sands of sheep and cattle generally
destroyed, and not untrequently
many valuable human lives sacri
ficed. Perhaps the district most liable
to disastrous floods in the colony is
the broad vale of tlie Hunter,
where, every few years, thousands
of acres are submerged with a sud
denness that is truly appalling.
Houses are frequently buried to the
chimney-tops beneath the waters,
which rapidly form an inland sea of
at least a hundred miles in length
by a st ore in width.
Iu tbe year 1866 I wasquartered
at Wiudsor, a little township about
twenty-five miles distant from Syd
ney, the metropolis of the colony,
and for some mouths I had been
chiefly engaged iu the arduous and
by no means romantic duty of hunt
ing for illicit stills of which it was
supposed there were several in the
neighborhood.
I certainty did my best todiscov
er their whereabouts, but was com
pletely unsuccessful, and after trav
ersing the country day after day,
in evary kind of disguise, until I
must have traveler1, on foot and on
horseback, many hundreds ot miles,
I at last gave the matter up as a
bad job.
If I had not found a still, how
ever, I had in the course of my
wanderings discovered what gave
me far greater delight, tor I had
fallen across one of tlie prettiest and
most loveable little girls that an
Australian or any other sun ever
had the honor of shining upon, and,
what was better, I had so ingrati
ated myself in her good graces as
to win her promise that she would
never many any one but ma
Our acquaintance had commenc
ed iu a romantic manner enough.
I had rescued her from a wild cow
and who would certainly have gored
her had I not interposed and shot
the brute
She was too frightened to walk
home alone, and so 1 accompanied
her, was introduced to the parents,
as a matter of course, and they
were profuse in their thanks, and
begged me henceforth to look upon
their houso as my home and so
forth.
I promptly took them at their
word, and every other evening, and
sometimes even oltener, my charger
would be comfortably stalled for
hour in farmer Martin's stable;
and, meanwhile the pretty Gertrude
and myself would be cither wander
ing by the river's bank, studying
poetry together in the old Summer
house, or, as the cold weather dn w
on playing chess in the snug little
back parlor. .
These things continued until the
rainy season set in, but instead of
being deterred by the steady down
pours, my visits became, if possible,
more frequent, and through the
slushy lowlands, where the water
was often above my horse's knees, I
nightly jogged, like marine cent
aur, to visit my inamorata.
By and bjfethe father's suspicions
were aroused.
rimid it be nossible that a
mounted trooper, wearing Her
lrty'8 1 uniform, woura nue
try7 through. mud and rain,
thunder and lightning, and hail and
wind, to drink a glass of grog and
smoke a pipe with an old man of
sixty? Common sense answered JNo,
and, having a fair stock of that
commodity, so also said Farmer
Martin.
"The girl he's after, and it's time
to put a stop to this nonsense," was
the conclusion he arrived at.
And so the very next evening
that I rode over, before Gertrude
and I could finish our third game
of chess, Mr. Martin put his head
into tiie room, and said, in a dry,
dignified kind ot way
"Hem! Could I speak with you
a few minutes in the front parlor,
Mr. Rush?"
I think I knew what was coming,
and so did Gertrude, tor she grew
very pale and upset the chessboard
in her agitation, so that kings,
queens, bishops, knights and all
the smaller fry went rolliug over
the room.
Meanwhile I followed the old
gentleman into the front parlor
that horrid room wherein every
thing was buried in chintzes or yel
low muslin, and where a fire was
never lighted more than once a
year and liere be opened the trench
es, not angrily, but collectedly
calmly, determinedly, informing me
that his daughter never could be
mine, tor that he was a tolerably
wealthy man, and he had resolved
never to wed his child to one who
was not possessed of a portion equal
to her ow::.
Iu vain I told him how much I
loved his daughter, that she loved
me iu return, and that we could
never exist apart from each other.
The old man merely smiled sarcas
tically and, pointing to my uniform,
said:
"The man whose very coat is not
his own and whose pay is only seven
shillings and sixpence a day cannot
many my heiress"
He laid a strong stress on the last
word, and I don't know what pos
sessed me, but I replied :
"And what may be the extent ot
your present wealth, Mr Martin?"
The question was certainly a
very rude one but the old gentle
man did not seem to regard it as
such, for lie answered, simply :
"Well, throe months ago I had
four thousand pounds in the Hank
of Australasia, but I took it all out
and expended it in the purchase of
additional stock and in improve
ments on my farm ; I daresay I am
worth altogether twelve thousand
pounds, and Gertrude will be the
sole possessor when I die."
"Then you don't object to me in
myself, Mr. Martin, but only be
cause I'm poor ?" I said, bitterly.
"Just so my boy. I object on
principle; but, to show you that I
bear you 10 personal animosity,
come into the kitchen, and we will
honor your last evening among us
by a glass of my best grog, and some
tobacco such as you have not tasted
for many a long day "
"Stay a moment," I cried.
"Were I as rich as you, Mr. .Martin,
would you give me your child?"
"Aye, that I would lad, right
willingly," was the reply.
"And directly I am as rich as
you, if Gertrude is then single, will
yon consent to our marriage?" I
persisted.
"Aye, verily, I will, on my word
of honor, Mr. liush. J tut why talk
of impossibilities?" he added;
"where are you going to realise a
sudden fortune?"
Ahl where was I? My heart
sank as I asked myself the question,
and I followed the old man into
the kitchen in almost heartbroken
silence. A bright fire was burning
on the hearth, for grates are still
very rare in Australia, iu tact, they
would be ill adapted for the logs of
red-gum wood that form the invari
able fuel
Presently glasses and pipes were
laid on the table, and I did my best
to rekindle hope within my breast
by the aid of Hollands and Bar
ret's twist, but it was no good.
On the other 6ide of the fire sat
Mrs. Martin, a comely dame of fifty
years, fully as broad as she was
long, and with a mind wholly given
to the concerns of the dairy, and
the making of orange marmalade.
Gertrude, Knowing that something
was wrong, but scarcely guessing
what, nestled up to my side, and,
to my great joy, her father did not
rebuke her.
And thus we sat for a long time,
neither of us speaking a word, but
listening to the falling rain and
howling wind without, and to the
groaning of the great forest trees,
as their branches were swayed and
tossed by the blast. Anon came
another sound a loud but yet a
a soothing murmur, like the sighing
of a Summer breeze an) id a cork
wood.
No one seemed to notice it but
me, and I only did so as wondering
how so gentle and so musical a
murmur could make itself audit le
above the uproar ot the wind and
tempest. Suddenly however, there
broke upon our ears the dashing
open of a gate and a man's voice
shouting:
"Master Martin, if you value
your life, look sharp! The river has
overflown its banks and the waters
are out"
Then we heard the splash, splash,
ot horses' feet, as the warning visi
tor rode away.
"Water out, impossible!'' mut
tered the old farmer. "Why, bless
my heart, the river was not on a
level with its banks by a good six
inches this morning and we've had
no rain to speak of since."
"You don't know what weather
it has been amongst the mountains,
though, Mr. Martin." I saiti. "And
hark! put your ear to the floor.
By heaven! the warning was a
timely one. We have not a mo
ment to lose."
We all bent our heads down
and listened; and now we could
hear a hollow, gurgling sound un
der our feet, and little jets ot spray
leaped up between the crevices ot
the flooring.
The house according to the com
mon custom in the colonies, was
built on piles, and thus the down
stair rooms were about four feet
above the ground, between which
and the flooring the angry waters
were now fretting and fuming and
dashing against the stout wood
work with momentarily increasing
power.
The women began to cry, the
farmer was too stupefied to move.
" I his will never do," I said;
"there is not a moment to be lost.
I can take One of you up behind me
on my horse, and I know that
Carlo and I will get through it
somehow. The rest had better get
up stars or, if possible on to the
roof and with the first peep ot
dawn I'll send a boat to bring you
off. JN ow, who am I to take charge
of?"
I was very much afraid he would
bid me take the old lady, but to
my great relief both the parents
cried out "Save Gertrude!"
I lost no time in acting. I flew
down the four steps that led to the
garden, and, with the water above
my Napoleon boots, made my way
to the stable. Mine was the only
steed there for Australian settlers
seldom 6tablo their own horses
and he, poor fellow, was very mis
erable and frightened. '
I did not stop to reassure him,
but had him round at the house
door in a minute, and then Gertrude,
after bidding a weeping adieu to
her parents, sprang up behind roe,
and away we dashed into the storm
and tempest
It was indeed, a wild, fearful
night The moon shone brightly,
but every minute or two its light
was obscured by black, pall-like
clouds, that were tearing with fear
ful velocity across the sky, and then
it was so dark that I could not see
my horse's head before me.
In the brief intervals of ghastly
white light I could perceive that
we were surrounded 'uy a sea ot
waters, and that scarcely a speck
of dry land was to bo seen. True,
they were as yet very shallow,
scarcely above Carlo's knees; but I
knew how rapidly they would deep
en, and I urged the good horse in
the direction of the town as quickly
as possible.
Gertrude's aim encircled my
waist, and she clung tightly to me
with fear. Often I turned my head
to speak to her a few words of en
couragement and hope, but I was
too anxious to secure her safety and
my own to say much.
She was warmly wrapped np in
shawls wraps, and, as she was an
excellent horse-woman, I had no
fear of her falling off, though the
wind was blowing hard enough to
whirl her from her seat.
Before we had got more than a
mile from the farm tbe rain com
menced with redoubled fury, and
in a few moments we were both of
us wet through. The wind, too,
grew from a gsjle to a hurricane,
and amid the continuous roar of the
thunder and flash of the pale light
ning, we could see huge boughs ot
trees burling through the air, and
now and then heard a mighty crash,
as some aged monarch of the plain
fell prone to the earth.
Suddenly a flash of lightning
darted right in front of Carlo's eyes,
and, with a snort of feSr, he reared
nearly upright.
"Hold fast Gertrude!" I cried,
endeavoring to throw my right arm
around her to keep her from slip
ping off.
I was too late she had fallen.
I heard a splash in the water, aery,
and tbe darkness hid her from my
sight. Just, however, as I was
about to give way to despair, anoth
er flash revealed her to me standing
amid the flood, at not a dozen yards
distance.
I spurred towards her, and pre6
ently she was again on Carlo's
broad back.
The excitement of this event, and
the turning ot my horse round and
round,' had made me forget the
proper direction to the town, so
that we now rode on not knowing
whither we were heading.
Meanwhile, the flood grew deep
er each moment, and presently I
discovered that Carlo was swim
ming. I had not felt tear until now;
but I must say that a great dread
crept over me when I found that,
whichever way I guided my charger
he could not touch the ground. I
knew that, weighted as he was, he
could not keep afloat long, and
each moment he seemed to sink
deeper and deeper in the water.
At this critical juncture of affairs,
the moon shone out agaii., and
lighted up the scene as though it
had been broad daylight. Far as
the eye could reach, not a speck of
dry laud was visible; but, to ray
great joy, I perceived, close by, a
blue gum tree, whose boughs were
so disposed as to be easily scaled.
"Do you think you cau climb
that tree, Gertrude?" I asked. "It
is our only chance of preserving our
lives now."
She answered feebly in tbe affirm
ative, and with some little difficulty
I swam Carlo alongside. Under
the tree he regained bis footing, and
I was glad of this, as be was en
abled to stand steady tor my poor
little companion to climb into the
lower branches from his back.
When she had accomplished this
feat, I took off his bridle, so that
he could not catch his feet in
ho had to swim for his life, and J
Gertrude and I got some twenty
feet higher up in the blnegum, pnd
paused to rest. Shawls and wraps1
had long ago fallen off her and beeit
lost, and now poor Gertrude Was
exposed to all the inclemency of the
weather, in the low-necked, short
sleeved dress she had worn during
the evening.
How her plump, white and beau-titully-molden
arms were scratched
by the rough tree-bark in climbing,
and as the rain poured down
through the nnprotectiog vertical
foliage, the drops glittered on her
polished shoulders and trinkled
down her plump, snowy bosom.
"Why, Gertrude, you look a
veritable Undine," I said, and, hiv
ing no cape tor overcoat to protect
her, I doffed my uniform, and made
her put it on.
We then sat side by side, and,
putting my arm around her neck, I
told her all about my interview
with her father that evening.
"And did papa really say that as
soon as you were as rich as himself
he would let me marry you, Willie?"
she asked.
"Yes, Gertrude : he gave me bis
word ot honor to that effect" I re
sponded. "Then he won't break it," she
replied. "Poor papa! this night
has made him a beggar. All nis
money was invested in improve
ments on his laud and in increase
of stock. It is all lost now, so yon
may claim me sooner than you
thought for, Willie."
This view of tbe case bad never
struck me before, and I nearly
jumped off tbe gum tree in, I fear,
& most selfish ecstacy of delight.
I was bound to control myself, how
ever, ad exert all my attention in
comforting Gertrude, who, now that
the excitement attending our escape
was over, began to entertain a thou
sand fears concerning tho fate of her
parents.
At last I succeeded in convincing
her that it was a matter of impossi
bility tor the flood to cover the
house before reecuse cams in the
morning, and thereupon she became
composed, and our thoughts revert
ed to our own hopes and fears, and
amid the rain ana howling wind,
and the still rapidly-rising waters
below, she nestled in my arras, and
we talked of love, until the co)d,
gray dawn aroused us from our sev
enth heaven ot bliss. Well, then,
to make a long story short, after
another three hours perch, we per
ceived some boats coming from the
direction of Windsor, and by the
aid of a brilliant scarlet handker
that I fortunately possessed, we
signaled them, attracted their at
tention, and were in due time taken
on board.
At my instigation, we then rowed
to Mr. Martin's farm, and saved
the old man and his wife from . a
chimney-top, wberon they were both
sitting, with their feet held up (tut
ot the water. We were only just
in time.
Two months later, Gertrude Mar
tin became Mrs. William Bush.
The old man stuck to his, word,
and our position was not so bad,
after all, for, a month previously to
our marriage, I came into an annu
ity of a hundred and fifty pounds
per annum ou the death of a distant
relative in England, so that, with
my pay ot seveii-aud-sixponce per
day, we are able to begin house
keeping pretty comfortably.
Mr. Martin has retrieved his loss,
and is now the owner of a capital
farm at Hyde, New South Wales.
He has abjured, and ve7 wtoy,
the rich alluvial lands on the banks
ot rivers, so freely offered to the
emigrant in a certain column in our
leading daily newspapers. .
. Sunlight is tht best light,