Australian Tales - Setis

“Is anything troubling you, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Bustle, when her
husband sat down to tea, an hour or two afterwards, in an unusually
thoughtful mood.
“No, love; nothing is actually troubling me,” replied Mr. Bustle, “but I
cannot remove an impression from my mind that I ought to buy that bank
draft which Mr. Dubbs offered me this afternoon, and send it to my
mother. Since the lamented death of several members of my family I
have been uncertain as to her pecuniary position; and I feel a strange
uneasiness on the subject to-night, nor can I reason it away.”
“Well, my dear, buy the draft, and send it by the first ship that sails to
England,” replied Mrs. Bustle. “If you think your mother wants it, send it
by all means; it is a positive duty.”
“I do not see that I can afford it,” said Mr. Bustle, musingly. “I want to
go to Sydney to buy goods next week, and the purchase of that draft
would take nearly half my stock of ready money. You know it is useless
to ask for credit, now that failures are so frequent, and almost every
person is viewed with distrust. No, I cannot afford to be over liberal just
now. I will, however, write and ask my mother how she is
circumstanced; and if I learn that she requires pecuniary aid from me, I
will send it at once. A few months' delay will not matter much to her, and
I shall be able to spare money more conveniently by-and-bye. I could
turn that £24 twice over in the interim. Yes, that is the best plan,” added
Mr. Bustle decisively; and then he began to converse upon some other
subject, and tried to banish the bank draft from his thoughts altogether.
That night, after he retired to bed, he was unusually restless, and in
some unaccountable way his thoughts persistently dwelt upon the
purchase of the draft. There he lay, rolling about as restless as if he had a
heavy draft to pay, and no money to pay it with. Vainly he tried to woo
“Nature's soft nurse;” she would not be wooed by him. At length he felt
so strongly the desire to send the draft home, that he resolved to do it,
and very soon after he had thus decided he fell asleep.
The next morning he informed his wife of his resolution, and she
kindly commended it. That same day the draft was purchased, and
enclosed in a long loving letter to his dear mother, far over the sea; and
then Mr. Bustle went about his usual occupations, cheerful and happy,
under the sense of having performed an imperative moral obligation.
* * * * *
Reader, please to let your fancy fly forward a few months from the date
of my story, and then take a long leap with me over the vast expanse of
ocean, which rolls its rugged waves between this great continent and the
dear little island almost beneath us, whither our hearts' fond affections so