|Newspaper Title||Southern Argus (Port Elliot, SA : 1866 - 1954)|
|Trove Title||The Kennises|
( Written expretslyfor the Southern Argiu )
Br Godfrey Egremont. [Author's rights reserved.]
(Continued from our last.)
* Oh, I see, you require an identifi cation by some respectable person.' ?Exactly, my dear sir, exactly. Some respectable, trustworthy person. Yon may be really Mr. Harry Kermis, you may not be Mr. Harry Kennie, bow do we know ? Possession of the letter is certainly evidence in your favour, but, for anything I know, possession
ot tne letter nas oeen ooiainea oy iraua or violence, not that I say it has. Ex cuse me, but you are possibly a — an im postor — yes, an impostor in fact. Not that I eay you are anything of the kind, ob, no, not at all. But in our business a matter like this is delicately handled; we require proof, 'prove all things,' you know, he, he,' and evidently well-pleased -with himself, the man of law cackled modestly, took a pinch of snuff, and calmly surveyed our friend. * Would Mr. Boggle, a contractor, living at present near Squanton, be sufficient for my identification ?' * Let me see,' and Mr. Sharpe tapped his forehead reflectively. * Boggle, Boggle. What, Amos Boggle, Mud Creek, Squanton, contractor ?' ' The very man.' ' Ah, let me see,' be touched a small bell, a clerk entered, 'Mr. Bruce, is Mr. Amos Boggle of Mud Creek, Squanton, contractor, our respected client in the action Boggle v. Larkins?' Mr. Bruce was not quite sure, but he thought so. ' Refer to the papers, Mr. Bruce.' Mr. Bruce referred to the papers, and it turned out most fortunately for Harry that his whilom employer was Weather lye, Sharpe, and Co's respected client. Mr. Boggle received a telegram very shortly afterwards, came without loss of time, and ndentified Harry to the thorough satisfaction of the legal firm ' on them terms.' Five thousand pounds were lodged to
the credit of Harry Kennie, Esquire, -with the Bank of Victoria, and the new customer, some fortnight subsequently, stepped on board an outward-bound veasel, and left the colony for ever. — ? Chapter V. Poolamponk, the delight of summer tourists, is a small village nestling pre cariously among huge granite rocks and immense sand-banks which border the sea. It is the highest point for miles along the coast, and the coolest resort that can bless jaded business- men, or refresh deli cate madams awl misses. These same rocks are prominent features of the place. They jut up amone the sand near the houses, rise amid the waters for half a mile seaward, and bound the coast with a solid, cruel wall, implacably destructive to any ship flung in their jogged teeth. Hour after hour visitors loll safely on towering boulders overhanging the beach, and, fascinated, wa'chthe breakers rolling in with a thundering roar, then eee them dash on rugged, mosset-clad masses below and spurt aloft in clouds of foam, oftentimes overhead. Woe fo the hapless mariner wrecked hereabout ;
these strong, spume-topped billows will lift him high and drag him back, and dash him to pieces against the iron but tresses on which they rah, or press him into stony chasms where foot of living man may never venture. Even in the middle of summer, Poolam ponk knows cool afternoons and night?. No dost, no mosquitoes — what wonder than that beds at the best public-house command extortionate prices, and lodg ings are dearer than anywhere else in South Australia. Invalds often stay all the year round. Brides and bridegrooms appear and disappear with what may be termed s regular intermittency. So favourite a caravansary has Poolamponk become that those faetideous folk, com mercial travellers, will variegate their route by making tortuous angles, or even ricochet, in order to spend a Sunday there.
Daring stormy weather the scene is more awful than pleasant. Caught in the winds' embrace, Poolamponk seems dangerously near to being blown bodily away. Gulls shriek dismally, rain falls continuously in drenching torrents, the fierce I last blows smoke back again down the chimneys and plays shrill piccolo concertos through keyholes while the waves run road races over the rocks, completely cover a tiny stretch of rtrand lying immediately under the village, smash boats and crayfish cages, bury the shattered breakwater under hissing surges, and make timid people fancy that a second deluge hug bean. On an afternoon dealing in weather of the last suggested character, an after noon so wild and windy that people had to shout at each other ere their voices were neardthe mail-truck, among the rent, deposited our old ac quaintances, Sara Tyrrell and Mr. John Cremer at Pooinmioiik. They had travelled together homeward-bound from Adelaide, without exchanging a single word, Sam despising the evil workiiie, 6allow-fnced attorney, and Cremer coolv oblivious regarded bis ompHiiy. Britons and members of tbe British breed arrogate as a natural prerogative the right to forget and man with whom they may le on bad terms. Soon after their arrival, the rain ceased for a while, the wind lulled, and moat people turned out to take a look at the wrathful sea, and watch the ejects of the tempest. To be continued in our next.