Australian Tales - Setis

nicht, freends,” to all the constables, and hastened home to look after his
hair trunk. As he limped along on his bruised legs, he could not fail to
remember Dr. O'Flaherty's shillelah, and, doubtless, he reflected at the
same time that had he but displayed manly courage, and a true friendly
spirit, he would have saved his host and hostess the disagreeable exposé;
and his next door neighbour on either side the annoying disturbance of
that eventful night, and would have saved himself too the beating, and
the ignominious association with the usual nightly denizens of the watchhouse.
* * * * *
“The world rings with answering echoes:” writes a popular authoress,
“they come not alone from braes and hills, but from hearts and lives.
Some are soft and low as the sound of the wind among the leaves; some
wild as the eagle's scream, or sullen as the ocean's roar. Like produces
like is the law. Storm clouds blacken the earth, sunshine brightens it.
Thunder is answered by thunder; bird song by bird song; petulance and
distrust by petulance and distrust; kindness by kindness.”
Mr. Lemonpip understood that law, for he was a philosopher in his
way. He knew “that as a cross word begets a cross word, so will a kind
one beget its likeness;” and that it is by little acts of watchful kindness
that affection is won; the comfort of social life is preserved, and a
softening influence is secured over hearts which an opposite conduct
would repel, or overload with acerbity.”
Mr. Lemonpip had long grieved over his dear wife's infirmities of
temper and habit, and had tried with affectionate solicitude, and by every
means which kindness could suggest, to restore her mind to that serenity
which she once enjoyed, and which had in former days filled his house
with happiness. The accursed thing in his household — the blight of his
domestic comfort, was his wife's fondness for stimulants, which had
gradually increased to a dangerous excess. It was yielding to that
debasing passion which had soured her temper and turned her into a
shrew. Mr. Lemonpip had tried every means, and had used every effort,
both of example and precept, to induce her to abandon that slavish
besetment, but apparently without effect. His kind words and tender
solicitude, however, were not unappreciated by her, and they were
gradually producing their softening effects. That memorable night was
the turning point in her life, for she had resolved to banish “Old Tom”
or the ginbottle — from her house for ever. The resolution was partially
carried out next morning, when the black bottle was smashed, and she
solemnly promised that she would never again taste strong drink.
The joy of Mr. Lemonpip may be imagined at observing from day to
day the thorough change in his wife's habits and temper. The old happy