Australian Tales - Setis

Wife! what better friend have you in the world than your husband?
Husband! what warmer friend have you in the world than your wife?
None: certainly not. Cleave to each other then in love; and live in
preparation for another world “where they neither marry, nor are given in
marriage.” ’
“Why old folks should not love each other as tenderly as young folks,
Mr. Boomerang, I can see no reason at all; but I can see strong reason
why they should do so. Surely the recollection of ten thousand acts of
kindness and love should foster tender feelings. There are many old pairs
in the land who live jarring lives, and I wish it were otherwise. But it is
not too late for them to alter their conduct, and hence-forward to live in
amity and peace. The following little story conveys a useful moral,
though it is not so new as some of my stories. An old couple, who had
long been notorious for their quarrelsome tempers, suddenly reformed
and became loving and gentle. The change excited the curiosity of a kind
neighbour, who one day inquired of the old man the cause of the marked
change, when he replied, ‘that they had lately taken two bears into their
house.’ The gentleman smiled, while he thought that formerly, when the
old man and woman were at home, there certainly were two very savage
bears in the house; he then asked the old man for an explanation, when
he replied, ‘Why, sir, this is it: Sally and I have lately learned to bear and
forbear with each other's failings, and since we have taken those bears
into our house, we have lived in peace and happiness.’
“But we have had a long walk, Mr. Boomerang,” said Mr. Dovecott,
“so come in doors and take a little fruit and rest awhile. It is no use to
offer you wine I know. Nanny! Nanny!” he shouted, as we entered the
house. “Come this way, love; I want you. Now, sir, walk into the
drawingroom, and I will show you something that I only show to my
most intimate friends. Nanny, dear, give me the key of the cabinet.”
“Take a careful look at this,” continued Mr. Dovecott, walking towards
me, after taking from a cabinet in the corner, a little rose-wood box,
inlaid with pearl, and placing it in my hands. “Take a good look at it,
sir.” I did look at it scrutinisingly, and admired the workmanship.
“Bother the box! but look inside, sir. Open it.” I did open it, and to my
surprise, I saw therein a little old leather shoe, with ancle straps and a
rusty button. “There, sir,” said Mr. Dovecott exultingly, while tears stood
in his eyes, “that is the identical little shoe that dear Nanny was crying
for when I first saw her sweet face, sixty-nine years ago, on the margin
of Beechwood brook. And this, sir,” he added, holding up a coarse linen
bag, with a tape string in it, “this, sir, was my dinner-bag, that I used to
carry to Dame Tingle's school, and these white pebbles I picked from the
brook the very last time I set foot on its well-remembered crossingplace.”
“At some future time, sir, I should like to philosophise a little on the