Basil and Annette: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

"And you must act as 'Our Special Correspondent' at home. A letter once a month."

"I promise you."

"You have not beaten me entirely, you see," said the editor good humouredly, "I shall get something out of you. I am pleased we shall part good friends."

They shook hands, and passed a pleasant evening together. The editor had a motive in stipulating that Basil should remain till Thursday. He was not going to let such a man leave Princetown without some public recognition of his merits; and on the following day Basil received an invitation to dine with the townsmen at the principal hotel on the night before his departure. He gratefully accepted it; he had worked honestly, and had won his way into the esteem of the inhabitants of the thriving township.

It was a famous gathering, and there was not room for all who applied for tickets. John Jones, of the Only Beehive, took the chair. On his right sat Basil, on his left, Mr. Majoribanks. The Government Camp was worthily represented; all the large storekeepers were present, and several of the most prosperous miners. It was a gala night; the exterior of the hotel was gay with flags of all nations, and the editor's wife and Edith had stripped their garden of flowers to decorate the table. The Governor of the colony could scarcely have been more honoured.

Of course there were speeches, and of course they were reported in the Princetown Argus the next morning. Basil's health was proposed by John Jones in magniloquent terms, which were cheered to the echo; had Basil's thoughts not been elsewhere, even in the midst of this festivity, he would have been greatly amused at the catalogue of virtues with which he was credited by the chairman, but as it was he could not help being touched by the evident sincerity of the compliments which were showered upon him. Princetown, said John Jones, owed Basil a debt which it could never repay. He had elevated public taste, and had conferred distinction upon the township by his rare literary gifts. Great was their loss at his departure but they had the gratification of believing that he would ever look back with affection upon the time he had spent in "our flourishing township." And they had the further gratification of knowing that they had a champion in the great world to which he was returning, and which he would adorn with his gifts. Before resuming his seat it was his proud task to give effect to one of the pleasantest incidents in this distinguished gathering. The moment it was known that Basil was about to leave them a movement was set afoot to present him with some token of their regard. In the name of the subscribers, whose names were duly set forth in the illuminated scroll which accompanied the testimonial, he begged to present to the guest of the evening "a gold keyless lever watch, half-quarter repeater, dome half hunting case, three-quarter plate movement, best double roller escapement, compensated and adjusted, and with all the latest improvements." John Jones rolled out this elaborate description as though each item in it were a delicious morsel which could not be dwelt upon too long. Engraved upon the case was a record of the presentation, which the orator read amid cheers, and attached to the watch was a gold chain, with another long description, of which John Jones took care not to miss a single word. Then came the peroration, in which the chairman excelled himself, its conclusion being, "I call upon you now to drink, with three times three, health and prosperity to our honoured guest, a gentleman, scholar, and good fellow." He led a hip, hip, hip, hurrah--hoorah--hoorah! And a little one in (the giant of the lot), "Hoo-o-o-o-rah-h-h-h!" Then they sang, "For he's a jolly good fellow," in which they were joined by all the gold-diggers at the bar and in the High Street outside. John Jones sat down beaming, and gazing around with broad smiles, wiped his heated forehead, and whispered to himself, "Bravo, John Jones! Let them beat that if they can!" The presentation of the watch was a surprise to Basil; the secret had been well kept, and the generous-hearted donors were rewarded by the short speech which Basil made in response. It was eloquent and full of feeling, and when he had finished the cheers were renewed again and again. The watch and chain were really a handsome gift, and before Basil put them on they were passed round for general inspection. Then a sentimental song was sung, followed by another toast. (The story-teller must not omit to mention that the first proposed were loyal toasts, which were received with the greatest enthusiasm.) Other toasts and other songs followed, the health of everybody who was anybody being proposed and drunk with acclaim. One of the most effective speeches of the evening was made by the editor of the Princetown Ares, in response to the toast of "The Press." He paid full tribute to Basil, and said: "He is about to leave us, but we shall not lose him entirely. I take the greatest pride in announcing that he has accepted the post of special European correspondent to the Princetown Argus, and we shall look out eagerly for the polished periods in which he will describe the great events of the old world. We send a herald forth to represent us, and the mother country has reason to congratulate herself that our choice has fallen upon such a gentleman as our guest," &c., &c. It would occupy too many pages to give a full report of the proceedings. Those who are curious in such matters cannot do better than consult the columns of the next morning's issue of the Princetown Argus, in which the speeches were fully reported, with a complete list of the names of those present on the notable occasion. The party did not break up until the small hours, and it is to be feared that some of the jolly fellows, when they sang "Auld Lang Syne," were rather unsteady on their legs. Whether the occasion furnished any excuse for this sad lapse the present chronicler will not venture to say. To judge from John Jones, who was not the least of the offenders, they were little the worse for it, for he was attending to his Only Beehive, early the following morning as fresh as a lark. But then John Jones was an exceptional being.

The hardest parting was with Edith. The child gave Basil a bunch of flowers and her favourite doll. To refuse the doll would have caused the little maid fresh sorrow, so Basil accepted the token of affection, and subsequently, before he left Sydney, sent Edith another, with which she fell violently in Jove, and christened it Basil, though it was of the female sex.

"Good-bye, my dear," said Basil, "and God bless you!"

Edith's voice was choked with tears, and she could only gaze mournfully at the friend who had supplied her with loving memories.

"Speed you well," said the editor; "hope we shall meet again."