Australian Tales - Setis

with pearl buttons. “I'm much obliged to you for helping me up, but I'm
sorry to trouble you.”
“Doan't ee zay a word about that now,” said Jonathan, gallantly. “I
wanted to stop en from tumbling down, but that young un there wouldn't
whoa when I told en to do it. I be nation glad thee bean't killed, that I be,
sure enough. Drabbit it! what a great gorbey thee must be, to ha druv'd
along like mad, when I tould en to whoa, as loud as I could yell,” he
added, with an angry glance at Bob, who was rubbing his grazed head
and groaning dismally. “Coom an help un to get the wheel out of the
dyke, an put en on again. Doan't ee stand there paking an rubbin all the
hair off yer head. Dang it! thee beant half a man to go walloping that
poor owld bony knacker so mortal hard: thee moight a smashed thee
sister up, loike a basket of eggs, and it's a marcy thee didn't doot.”
After putting on the straying wheel securely, and picking up the
battered milk cans, and again telling Phoebe he was awfully glad her
worn't murdered, Jonathan wished her good-bye, and returned to his cart,
while she and her brother Bob retraced their way homeward for a fresh
supply of milk for their afternoon customers. As she jolted along before
her empty cans, her heart was quite full of affection for Jonathan, who
had manifested such tender concern for her personal safety.
Jonathan quickly remounted his elevated seat on the load of litter, and
after gently waking up his horse with the whip, and telling it to “gee up,”
he resigned himself to a delicious contemplation of the late occurrence,
and the happy contingencies which might accrue therefrom. He
recollected a thrilling story, which he had read in his boyhood, of a
gallant young soldier, at great personal risk, stopping four runaway
horses affixed to a carriage, in which was a young lady as beautiful as
Phoebe Skimmer. The terrified steeds were about to take a flying leap
from the top of some lofty cliffs into the sea, when the young soldier
stopped them, by some means (not very clearly defined), and saved the
young lady's life. The sequel of the story was, that the gallant young
soldier married the grateful young lady, who was the only daughter of a
wealthy baronet.
It was not difficult for Jonathan to draw a pleasing analogy between
that case and the one in which he had lately taken so conspicuous a part.
Phoebe was certainly not the daughter of a wealthy baronet, but she was
the daughter of an honest dairyman, and was perhaps worth a carriage
full of titled ladies as far as domestic qualities and working powers were
concerned. He regretted of course that he had not succeeded in stopping
the milk cart, before the wheel wobbled off into the drain: there the
analogy was again interrupted, still his kindly intentions were evidently
understood by Phoebe, and he tickled his heart by believing that she
would by and by show her appreciation of his zeal for the preservation of
her life and limbs in a similar way the rich young lady did to the poor