Chapter I. He Name
of Evan Evans was a household word in the Dead Letter Office. For four generations a certain desk had been occupied by a bearer of that ancient and highly respectable patronymic, and no letter was ever considered thoroughly defunct uutil its funeral oration had been pronounced by an Evan Evans. A conservative family the Evans's; Welsh — very much Welsh, as their name implies — with a pedigree reaching far, far back beyond mortal ken till it became merged in the halo surrounding the palace, or, more probably, the hovel of an original Cambrian king. The Evans's were proud of their royal descent, but they never made any boast of it, not even to the extent of parading a family tree. It was their privilege, in common with other Welshmen, to be descended from royalty, and in the magnanimity of their race they would have been quite ready to associate on even terms with Anglican dukes and marquises of even recent creation had opportunity offered, which unfortunately it never did, for the Evans's of whom I write did not live in a Bel gravian mansion nor attend court functions.
Their means were not nearly so large as was their family pride, and dukes and marquises were not nearlv so common as donkey boys on Hampstead Heath, where they resided, not so much from choice as from necessity. "The Guv' nor," as the boys called him, was No. 4 in the hierarchy of Evans's who had entered the Dead Letter Office on his seventeenth birthday at a salary of forty pounds per annum, payable quarterly, with the prospect of rising ten pounds a year till he could show a clean record of twenty years consecutive dead lettering. After that he wrould go up like a sky rocket at double the annual rate of increase for the next quarter of a century, when he would be retired with the thanks of a grateful country7 on half-pay for the rest of his natural life. Evan Evans was perfectly content with his prospects, and Elizabeth, his wife, whom he had taken unto himself some twenty years ago, was of the same mind also, and they cut their coat — not to mention the boy's knickerbockers — according to their cloth, and always had at least a quarter of an inch to spare.
An exceedingly economical man was Evan Evans; some people — among whom I'm afraid, to be truthful, I must reckon " the boys" — said he was mean; but, like the village blacksmith, he looked the whole world in the face for he owed not any man, and his happiness in having a quiverful of eight on a salary of two hundred and fifty a year never positively overflowed. On one occasion which "the boys" never for got he gave an omnibus conductor half a sovereign instead of a sixpence — at least that was the only way in which he could account for being for the first and last time in his life nine and sixpence out in his accounts at the end of the week. The whole family7 was in a turmoil for days in consequence; the boys were cross-examined in a manner which they deeply resented and never forgave, and the cook, for similar reasons, gave warning on the spot, thereby exercising a privilege which Evan, the eldest boy, remarked he only wished he enjoyed himself, as he should instantly take advantage of it.
Cupboards were rummaged, boxes and drawers and packets turned out, every article of furniture in the house moved, carpets and oil cloths taken up at a cost, as Master Evan joyously calculated, of about fifteen shillings. He drew up an account which was surreptitiously circulated amongst "the boys" and enjoyed an enormous success. It was headed "The Guv'nor's Latest Spec, " and was itemized as follows: To done in the eye by 'bus conductor. .£ 96 To good money7 chucked after bad, viz. : — (1) Cost of moving carpets, furniture, etc x5 ° (2) Advertisement for new cook 50 (3) Postage 6 (4) Difference wages 2s. per month to new cook for one year 1 40 (5) Doctor's bill for attending Mother; ill ten days because guv' nor kicked up such a beastly row. Four visits at 5s. 6d 120 Total loss .£$ 16 o Moral: When you get done in the eye by a 'bus conductor give your sous and daughters five bob each all round; it will cost you less money in the end and tend to promote filial affection.
Evan Evans prided himself on being a just man, but justice in this wicked world of ours has a tendency, possibly of necessity, to be hard: and there was certainly nothing soft about Evan Evans. He never went back on his word; he ruled his wife and daughters with a rod of iron, his .sons with a thin malacca cane as being more flexible and capable of greater execution. He was foud of his woman kind, that is to say, of his wife and daughters three, but if he entertained any affection for "the boys" his efforts to conceal its existence were so successful that he managed to convey a totally different idea to the outside world. He did not understand boys; he entered into none of their games nor pleasures, and looked upon the holidays as a semi-annual nuisance — for schools had only two vacations a year in those days.
Evan, the eldest boy, used to sa}- the Guv' nor was born at forty. " The little mother, " as the boys always called her, ever did her best to smooth matters over and act as a buffer between father and sons, but she was in reality afraid of both, and probably suffered most, as buffers frequently do, in the family encounters. The boys said they hated "the Guv'nor. " They told their mother so, which made her miserable. The Guv'nor said the boys were the burden of his life, which made her worse, so, taking one consideration with another, " the little mother's " lot was not a happy one. Evan was a boy of no less determined character than his father, and when on his seventeenth birth day, in accordance with family usage and tradition, the time came for him to occupy for the first time the reserved and ancestral seat in the Dead Letter Office, he produced the equivalent of a cyclone at the breakfast table by blurting out without any warning : "Oh, I say, Mother, I'm not going into the Dead Letter Office.
" The entire family looked up (it was holiday time and they were all there) in consternation. The Guv'nor laid down the morsel of fried bacon he was in the act of carrying to his mouth, un tasted. He had had fried bacon for breakfast for twrenty-five years, but the boys only had porridge. He put his knife and fork together, gazed fixedly across the table over his spectacles at his son, cleared his throat and said, calmly: "Elizabeth, my dear, I think I'll take another cup of tea, " and he handed her his cup as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Evans poured out her husband's tea with a trembling hand, and the rest of the family masticated so slowly that they might have been mistaken for cows chewing the cud. All the taste had gone out of the porridge. The rest of the boys glanced at Evan under their eyebrows, half in fear, half in admiration of his temerity.
What was going to happen next? Miriam, the eldest girl, two years older than Evan, sniffed audibly; Esther, next in her point of age, looked danger ously like crying, while Janet, the youngest, only seven years old, began to howl. "Elizabeth, my dear," said the Guv'nor, as he took his second cup of tea, "send that child awav. " The child required no further bidding. She got up and rushed from the room, followed im mediately by her two sisters. No one said a word. The little mother motioned the rest of the boys to go, and Harold, David, Ross and Arnold all tramped out of the room in order of age, leaving Evan alone to sustain the the cross-fire of his parent's cannonade. He felt terribly uncomfortable; he was in the region of the unknown, which always induces a feeling of nervousness. He didn't know what was coming next, and he wished that he hadn't broken the ice with a sledge hammer.
He wasn't prepared for the Guv' nor ignoring him in this way. He thought there would have been " an awful shindy;" that they would all have lost their tempers and had a general row, and that he would have been enabled to maintain his point, though he didn't exactly know how, through the melee. But this death-like stillness and chilling unconcern were more than the boy had bargained for. The little mother looked at her husband, but he was reading the morning's Times, which it was his daily custom to prop up against the sugar basin; then she looked at Evan, who was staring out of the window with a strained, hard look upon his face ill in keeping with his seventeen years. The clock struck half-past eight. The Guv'nor folded The Times and rose from his seat. "You'd better not belate for the 'bus," he said to Evan, and he passed out of the room.
The 'bus left for the city at a quarter to nine, and it took five minutes to walk from the house to the crossroads where it started. The Guv'nor had'nt missed it once in twelve years, and he certainly wasn't going to miss it to-day. As he left the room the little mother rose from her seat, and, standing behind Evan's chair, put both her arms around his neck; she laid her cheek against her son's, and said softly: ' ' What is it, Evan dear; tell me?' ' Evan stroked her face with his hand, but still looked out of the window. "Tell m:," said his mother again; " why did you say you wouldn't go into the Dead Letter Office? What has made you change your mind?" " I haven't changed my mind, " he said, almost fiercely. " Who ever asked me if I wanted to go into the beastly place; I hate the very name of it.
I want to go back to school; I'm in the upper fifth now and should get my remove into the sixth next term and be captain of the eleven. Didn't I tell the Guv'nor so; and what did he do? Re fused to go into the question at all — said he knew what was best for me, and all that rot — that I must go into the Dead Letter Office as he and half a dozen of the grand paters did before him. Well! as I can't do what I want, by Jove! I won't do what he wants; I'll strike out on my own account. I loathe the idea of being shut up in a stuffy hole like that from ten till six. Oh, I know what you are going to say, mother. It's in the family, and all that rot. What's the family ever done for me? What's the Guv'nor ever done?" "Oh, hush, hush Evan!" said his mother; "don't speak against your father." "Oh, well, mother, I don't want to hurt your feelings, you know; but the Guv'nor hasn't got any to hurt so it don't matter.
But what's the good of jawing about it ? If he's so set on having one of us in his office he can take Harold next year; but he doesn't want to have any of us, really, — all he wants' is to keep up the old tradi tion, and it doesn't even occur to him to think whether we like it or not. Does he ever think about anything any of us like, except you and the girls? He hates the sight of us, but, by7 Jove! not more than we hate the sight of him!" "Oh, Evan, Evan, don't say that!" pleaded his mother, tearfully. " You know it isn't true; your father is so — ' ' " Yes, mother, I know what you' re going to say — so kind and good to every one but us boys. He goes to church twice and makes notes on the sermon every Sunday evening, and I hate going to church, and I'm blowed if you'll ever get me to make notes on the sermon."
The boy was walking up and down the room by this time in a state of suppressed excitement. "What have I ever done — what have the others done to the Guv'nor that he should treat us as he does? I tell you what it is, Mother, I'm not going into that office — I don't care what the Guv'nor does. It's no use his trying to lick me, because I won't stand it, and he knowTs that well enough. All he can do is to turn me out of doors." The little mother was crying bitterly by this time. Just then a footstep sounded outside the dining-room door. She hurriedly dried her eyes. She knew it was her husband putting on his coat and hat and she went, as was her daily wont, outside to assist him. The guv'nor stooped down and presented his cheek as was also his daily wont. Mrs. Evans had to stand on tip-toe even then.
As she kissed him she said: " Couldn't you wait a moment, dear, and speak to Evan? I think if you said a few kind words to him you could bring him round. " Evan Evans looked at the clock on the stairs; it was twenty-four minutes to nine. " What's the matter with the boy? " he asked. "I don't understand." (That is exactly what AS IT WAS IN TfiE FIFTIES. 12 the matter was, if he'd only known it. He did not understand.) "Oh, do stop till the next 'bus, dear, and speak to him properly," pleaded Mrs. Evans; "you can't have a good long talk in four minutes. " " I can say all I have to say in two, " replied the Guv'nor shortly. He went into his sanctum, a tiny box of a room off the hall, opened his desk and wrote out a check for payable to bearer. On a slip of paper he wrote: Dear E\7an: — If you have thought better of your foolish utterance I too am willing to forget it.
If you are still of the same mind take the enclosed cheque for and do what you like with it, but never let me see or hear from you again. If you are not at the office by 10 a.m. this morning I shall know y7ou have decided against my wishes, and that you consider yourself competent to make your own way in the world without further assist ance or consideration from your affectionate father. E. E. 1 2th May, 185 — He reread the letter; he did not show it to his wife but folded it, put it in an envelope with the cheque and addressed it, Evan Evans, Esq., jr., favour of Mrs. Evans. "Oh, Evan!" said the poor little mother; ' ' what have you done? ' ' "What I consider to be my duty, " said the Guv'nor sternly. " Give that to Master Evan. I've given him a last chance, which is more than he deserves. No one shall say I've been hard on the boy" and he inarched out of the house just in time to catch his morning 'bus.
Chapter II. Carcely
had the front door closed behind him than there was a rush down stairs of fourteen feet of all sizes, be longing to the remaining members of the family, who had been congregated still as mice on the front floor landing to pick up such scraps of in formation as they might. "Hush, children, hush!" "Oh, Mother, what is father going to do to Evan? ' ' asked Janet. He isn' t going to beat him, is he?" " Shut up, Baby, " said Evan, for they w7ere in the dining room by this time. The boy was standing by the window and had seen his father walk down the little path. "I think it's a beastly7 shame, " said Arnold. "Hold your row7, youngster," said Evan. " What do you know about it? " Such a hubbub and commotion followed as only eight young people can raise. The little mother was lost in it all, and looked helplessly from one to the other.
She still held her husband's letter in her hand. Miriam caught sight of it first. She had wonderfully sharp eyes, had Miss Miriam; few things escaped her. "Whom is the letter for?" she asked, and she took it out of her mother's hand. " Evan, it's for you, " she said, " from father. " Evan snatched it and opened it. This brought the little mother to her senses. Evan read the letter through; his mother came and looked over his shoulder and read it too. Then she sat down and cried silently. Evan's face was perfectly white and his voice trembled slightly. "Mother, dear, " he said, " I'm awfully sorry to leave vou and the others. " "Oh, Evan, my boy, my boy, don't say that you are going away? Your father will come round; he isn't really hard, Evan, dear. "Well, I don't know about that, Mother; I rather think he is — but never mind, I'm not com ing round.
I've made up my mind I'm going. " "Oh, where are you going?" sobbed Mrs. Evans. " I'm going " said Evan, slowly and deliberately, "to British Columbia. " This was a bombshell only second in point of explosive effect to the dynamite cartridge which Evan had dropped at the breakfast table. " To British Columbia! " they all cried aghast, "Where is it?" "I know," said David; "it's in South America. " "Idiot! " said Evan; "it's nothing of the kind. It's in North America. There's a fellow at school — he's in my form — who has a brother out there. He w7rote home some time ago and says it's a grand place — lots of gold. He found a nugget weighing forty pounds, or something — anyhow it was a whacking big one. Then there are grizzly bears and Indians. He's shot a lot of them himself. " "What Indians?" asked Miriam.
"No grizzles, stupid, " replied Evan "Well, why didn't you say so," retorted Miriam, w7ho always had the last word. "Oh, mother, I should like to go too, " in chorus from the other boys. Evan was the hero of the hour. They all talked at once after the manner of youth in delighted admiration of Evan's audacity. His mother couldn't get a word in for about ten minutes, but at last she managed to make herself heard. " But, my dear boy, what are you thinking of? What will your father say? " "Oh! the guv'nor , " said Evan with a hard laugh. " He's given his answer already; here it is, " and he waived his father's letter. " Thirty pounds, just think of it! Fred Harrison's kit cost I know, and his guv'nor gave him in his pocket besides. The Evans' were always famed for their imminence. But don't you fear, I'll get along all right.
" And Evan proceeded to submit plans and specifications (mostly in ele vation) of his future fortunes in British Columbia on a capital of thirty pounds, less cost of outfit and journey. The little mother tried her utmost to shake the boy's determination. She had the girls on her side, the boys naturally sided with their brother. But Evan with the impetuosity due to his own vouth and obstinacy inherited from his father, over rode all obstacles. The morning went in fruitless endeavours to alter his purpose, and by lunch time Mrs. Evans had come to the conclusion that his mind was irrevocably made up. She dreaded telling her husband, for this was the first time his decision had not been law to every member of the family, and she didn't quite know what the effect would be. The ink bottle has a fatal fascination for some characters, which as a rule are not of the strongest calibre, and Mrs. Evans thought it would be easier to write than to speak to her husband.
She could send a note by one of the boys to his office so that he might have plenty of time to think the matter over before coming home. The eldest girl, Miriam, without whose counsel she never did any thing even to the extent of buying a postage stamp, approved of this step, so she sat down and wrote a deeply involved letter of four pages crossed, with a postscript, to her husband, telling him exactly what had happened, and begging him to be kind and affectionate to the boy in the hope of altering his decision. Harold took it in to London, walking both ways to save the ' bus fare, and this is the answer he brought back : Dear Elizabeth: — I have nothing whate\7er to add to my letter of this morning to Evan. If he wishes to go to British Columbia, he is at liberty to go there or anywhere else he chooses.
His movements henceforth neither affect nor interest me. My house is no longer his home, and I shall therefore expect to find that he has started when I return home this evening, as I do not desire to submit him to the indignity of forcible expulsion. Your affectionate husband. May 12th, 185 — E.E. " All right, mother dear, don't you worry, "said Evan, after this gracious epistle had received its full share of family condemnation. " I'll go to Uncle Bob's till I can find a ship. He won't turn me out. " Uncle Bob was Mrs. Evans' brother. He was a retired captain in the navy, and a great friend of the boys. He and his brother-in-law didn't hit it off as well as they might, for they were as diametrically opposed in character as it is possible for two men to be. The only subject upon which they had an}' ideas in common was chess, and every Saturday night for years they had played the king of games.
The only reason why they played it without quarrelling was because the game was a silent one. The two old gentlemen would sit for hours intently watching the chess board, and frequently the whole evening passed without a move being made by either of them. The children detested chess because it robbed them of Uncle Bob's society. The boys one and all were devoted to him, mostly, as they explained, because they could say what they liked to him and he didn't mind "Uncle Bob's so jolly good-natured, you see, mother. He isn't like the guv'nor. " Poor Mrs. Evans! These home truths were bitter to hear, for she revered her husband and had a deep affection for him. He had always been kind to her, and it was a constant grief to her to note now wide, and apparently unbridgeable, a breach existed between her sons and their father.
As for the girls, they adored Uncle Bob. But for his escort they would never have gone anywhere nor seen anything, for the guv'nor didn't approve of the boys taking their sisters about. Captain Rolston had only his pension, and lived in a tiny cottage about a mile from the Evans', with an old one-armed marine who had ser\7ed him for years, as his factotum and bodyguard. ' ' Poor devil, ' ' the Captain used to say, ' 'couldn' t turn him out, you know, and by gad it's astonish ing what the beggar can do with that one hand of his. Besides, he knows my ways by this time, and that counts for a deal in this life, let alone the next. " The Captain's religious views were heterodox, and a source of constant trouble and distress to Mrs. Evans, but she consoled herself with the comforting reflection that " Bob was such a dear good fellow at heart that one of these days he was sure to come round.
" The brothers-in-law were opposed on every conceivable point, but partic ularly on religion, for Evan Evans was an extremely low churchman and the Captain was no church man at all. He never paraded any particular views, and considered it a point of honour to avoid all allusion to religious matters in conversation with his nephews, though Uncle Bob was the recipient of all the family troubles. The boys always went to him with their tales of woe about the guv'nor, and but for his sensible cheery way of getting them to see things in his own light there would probably have been a rupture long ere this. "Don't talk nonsense, boys," he would say. " Must have discipline at any price. You can't command a family of headstrong unruly boys any more than you can a ship's company without discipline. You don't like the guv'nor's ways!
Well, I dare say you don't. Can't say I'm enam oured of 'em myself sometimes, but that's only a matter of opinion. Do you think the guv'nor wants to do you fellows harm or good? " "Well, Uncle Bob, I'm hanged if I know," Evan, who was generally spokesman, would answer. ' ' Which is but another way of expressing that you're not quite sure in the matter. Give your father the benefit of the doubt, my boy. You'll never regret it. Always give every one the benefit of the doubt. " "Yes, but Uncle Bob—" "But me no buts, boy. The only complaint you boys have to make is that your father seems to yrou a little hard and unsympathetic, and whacks you rather more frequently than you find agreeable. I haven't the faintest doubt you deserve it. The guv'nor isn't perfect, not am I, nor is any mother's son of us on this earth; but I'll tell you what it is, there isn't a man of higher principle living than Evan Evans.
He's brought up a jolly sight more of you than there ought to be, and clothed you, and educated you, and doesn't owe any one a brass farthing, and the Lord only knows how he does it, for I don't. His life has been one long series of self denials, and I wish I was like him in many things." The boys would mentally thank their stars that he wasn't, but they did not argue with Uncle Bob when he talked in this strain. The Captain never let them know how often he fought their battles for them, and though in his heart of hearts he grieved scarcely less than did his sister at the want of geniality and affection existing between the boys and their father, he gave them no sign that he sympathised with them. Under these circumstances when Evan expressed his determination to go to Uncle Bob's, no one was a bit surprised.
It was the natural thing for him to do. "I'll tell you what it is," continued Evan, "I'll have to go pretty soon. By jove, it's four o'clock now, and I'm to be out of the house by7 the time the guv'nor's back, sharp six. Well, I haven't too much time to pack. " Esther, the second girl, Evan's senior by only a year, had come close up to her brother during the conversation and linked her arm into his. With her other hand she held her mother's. Esther was the boy's favourite. Miss Miriam, as they called their eldest sister, they couldn't bear. The duty of keeping them in order devolved upon her when the guv'nor wasn't there, and she revelled in the privilege, but Esther never kept any one in order. She was everybody's favourite, and could do more w7ith her father than any of them, which, however, wasn't saying much.
"I'll pack your things for you, Evan," she said. "Indeed you won't," snapped Miss Miriam. "I shall pack his things, besides you don't know where half of them are. That reminds me, the wash! Arnold, run over at once to Mrs. Price's and take this note. " She hastily scribbled off her instructions. "Bring them with you," she said, "rough dried if they are not ready, which they ought to be. You other three boys go too," she added, "it will keep you out of the way while I do some mending, ' ' and she bustled the four of them out of the room. "Come along, Janet, you can help me. " "Mother, " said Esther, gently, "let's go round the garden with Evan, ' ' and the little mother suffered herself in a dazed kind of way to be led off with Evan's strong arm supporting her. The trio walked silently round the little plot, perhaps a quarter of an acre in extent, which the boy7s had known so well from their infancy.
None of them spoke, they all took after their father in self-restraint, and when they felt most they showed least. Round they went several times. "Oh, Evan, " said Esther, "say good bye to Punch. " "Yes," answered Evan, slowly, "I'll say good by7e to Punch. " Punch was an ancient retriever, a dozen years old at the least, whom the boys had had since he he was a puppy, almost blind now aud very fat. He was lying on his side, half asleep, outside his kennel, and didn't eveu take the trouble to raise his head when Evan patted him, he only twitched one ear. " Punch old boy, I'm going away, and I shall never see you again. You'll be dead and buried long before I come back. ' ' Punch's tail thumped joyously on the ground as if he relished the prospect of immediate disso lution. "Good bye, old chap, we've had some good times together.
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You’ve reached the end of As it was ... in the Fifties. By 'Kim Bilir.'.