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Home My WebLink AboutThe Wingham Advance-Times, 1937-02-04, Page 6qeli. fci. Man SYNOPSIS: Ellen Mackay, on her Way from school at Winnipeg, to join father at Fort Edson, misses the boat by 3vhich she was to travel. Hearing that another boat is to start morth in the morning, Ellen goes to the owner, John Benham, and begs him to give |ier a passage. To her surprise he flatly refuses. Angry and puzzled, Ellen tells Pat McClatchney, a kindly old storekeep- of her difficulty, and Pat with the help of one of Benham's crew, suc ceeds in getting Ellen on board as a. stowaway, * * * With axe and hammer and a hand ful of spikes, Benham went silently to work at the prow of the scow. With the poles spiked upright and a length of tarpaulin unearthed from the cargo, he fashioned a small en closure. To finish it off he brought out the blankets Pierre Buschard had provided for her and placed them in the new-built cubby. “When we tie up for the night the men shall gather you enough spruce tips for a comfortable couch,” he announced. “This will afford you reasonable privacy," Then, without another word or look he stowed the axe away, strode among his men and stood there, bringing out a short black briar pipe which he clenched affectionately in ■his teeth, to smoke calmly and dis interestedly, The next halt was made a sun down. The scows were tied up, fires lit and the evening meal prepared. Benham himself did not come near her, but he sent Pierre Buschard to her with several heaped dishes of savoury, steaming food and a panni kin of scalding hot tea. By the time she had finished her supper the In dians had brought numerous armfuls of fragrant spruce tips for her bed. Ellen arranged her own couch, then, with sudden determination, went ashore. Benham faced her. “Pm go ing for a little exercise,” she said de fiantly. “Or am I a prisoner?” '■ “Not in the last,” was the quiet answer. It is nearly dark and these woods are uncharted.” Unconsciously, Ellen stayed long er than she had intended. When she! finally threaded her way back to the; fire but a single figure remained seated before the fading flames. It was Benham. He looked at her with out speaking. A stir of response gripped Ellen.Dllen Mackay She knew he had been awaiting her' stoo<l in silence and watched the end return. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. ‘ of the M^ney materialize out of the “Sorry if I’ve kept you from your ( gathering liver mists. A strange cam rest. But somehow it seemed that I' araderie had grown between these had at last come home, after being two- 'T'ime, enforced companionship away too long. I won’t offend this and youth, had, worked slowly but way again. I realize I am very much! surely upon them. They were not an your debt.” Benham nodded. “I understand,” he said, softly. “I too, have been away—and come home. And I often sit late like this. It is at night that all this speaks.” A brief gesture en compassed the wilderness about them. Ellen was startled. Most men she had known in the north country be came hardened to its beauties. But there was something almost poetic in John Benham’s simple words and THE WINGHAM -ADVANCE-TIMES Business and Professional Directory Nights 107Office Phone 54.father. You are j DR. R. L. STEWART PHYSICIAN ATelephone 29. J. H. CRAWFORDDr. Robt. C. REDMOND OntarioWhigham R. S. HETHERINGTON Telephone No. 66 Phone 150 Wingham also be His Sunday, 5* to the feet Damn soothe him would have and him. with used indignantly Moses’ dis- he in of Dr. W, A. McKibbon, B.A. PHYSICIAN And SURGEON Located at the Office of the Late Dr, H, W. Colbome. CHIROPRACTIC and ELECTRO THERAPY BARRISTER and SOLICITOR Office — Morton Block. Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc. Successor to R. Vanstone. Golden Text. the light of the world; ho.w to to him, M.R.C.S. (England) L.R.C.P. (London)* PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON DR. W. M. CONNELL PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Phone 19. W. A. CRAWFORD, M.D Physician and Surgeon Located at the office of the late Dr. J. P. Kennedy. JESUS THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. Feb. 7.—John 8:12, 31, 32; 9:1, 11. J. W. BUSHFIELD Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc, Money to Loan, Office — Meyer Block, Wingham Successor to Dudley Holmes. ITHE SUNDAY SCHOOL LESSON ‘With was Thursday, February 4, 193J- North Street — Wingham Telephone 300. ghastly about this old man’s wailing rage and his imprecations. And this father of hers, who had wasted away to such a shell, seemed almost like another person to her. Bpt she drew upon, her young strength and went to him. Quietly but remorselessly she forced him back into his seat dropped upon her knees beside She attempted to words such as she on a child. “You must rest, not well. You have been too long alone, I am young and strong. You must let me take most of the load from your shoulders, I have not for gotten how to handle the Indians or to grade a fur." Again the factor laughed and it seemed to Ellen that all thq. elements of despair were in that laugh. He was shaking; a man palsied by the scalding outpourings of rage and hate. Over and over again he muttered the name of John Benham, cursing and reviling. It was long before he quiet ed, and the reaction left him weak and shrunken. His eyes, staring out beneath shaggy brows were glazed and bloodshot. He panted weakly for breath. At that moment all the murky shad ows in the world seemed to close in on Ellen Mackay. During those thoughtless, carefree years which she had spent at school, some great trag edy had been enacted here in the fast nesses of the north. Alone and in silence this father of hers had fought some great, overwhelming misfortune, to be slowly beaten down and shat tered until it seemed that even his reason was tottering. And the cause of his misfortune had been John Ben ham, John Benham! Something stirred and surged through her veins. Behind her was a long line of fighting ancestors, a lineage reaching to the far, gorse-1 covered highlands of Scotland. Here | before her lay ba Erie of another sort. | Yet battle none the less. With a | click of her white teeth she caught I up the gage. Gone in an instant were S all memories of that thousand-mile | trip from the north. i ts a iheker ef ? an eyelash she placed j' in new status. An enemy n< w—an en- | emy who. had shattered and brought t near t© death—her father. [ At. fest the insanity of rage k-tt j Lngtts Mackay. One this, hatid catrte [ at and rested >.n Even’s dark head’ rrmrmsred. ‘“Bsi t r.Iy the great G:-d • knows what I have bean tbrengh. It is hard, at my age, t© see defeat and I disgrace laemsrsg fest be th re the j It was fete when she kissed her father guod-mgot and went to* her ■ room,, the c-tsy ISttfe esbsy that bad : been hers srere a Jfehs its swaddling clsthes. A shaded fesa saffssed it f with a gentfes htmefe gfew. It was ; carpeted with deep, rich fiirs, even , to the enormous hide of a polar bear, in the gleaming pefege of which she sank to her slender ankles. Prepared by the loving hands of Gitchie, her bed lured, her beneath a spotless counterpane. On a little table in one corner was a bowl of wood violets, which Moosac had ga thered and which filled the air with fairy incense. Swiftly she disrobed, blew out the light and slipped be tween cool, caressing sheets. But as she relaxed the darkness brought many thoughts and many images. Try. as she would she could' not keep a certain picture from drifting before her closed eyes. It was that of John Benham, as she had seen him many times. He stood before her again, clean, splendid', powerful, his strong, still face grim and purposeful; his brilliant eyes adream with the mys tery of the wilderness. (Continued Next Week) Wellington Mutual Fire Insurance Co. Established 1840. Risks taken on all passes of insur ance at reasonable rates. Head Office, Guelph, Ont ABNER COSENS, Agent, Wingham. HARRY FRY Licensed Embalmer and Funeral Director Furniture and Funeral Service Ambulance Service. Phones: Day 117. Night 109. tong. In some intangible way it • her. At the head of the slope by seemed that a bond of friendship of common understanding between them was born there at that moment. For a long time Ellen stood there, across the flames from this strange, still, elemental mam Her mind seeth ed with truant thoughts, and words that frightened her lay close to her lips, Then one of the sleeping Ind ians stirred in his blankets. The spell was broken. Ellen moved away. “Good-night,” she called softly. “Good-night—John Benham." The low, sturdy log buildings that comprised the Hudson Bay post at Fort Edson, were spread out against the rising ridge which mounted from a short beach of shingle on the west shore of the Mackenzie river, the last and mother river of those three great streams which carried the brigades of the fur traders into the vast bosom of the north. Down the Athabasca, from there along the broad, smooth reaches of the Slave River to Great Slave Lake, then at of the brigade dreamy nights had passed in number since the day of the start, and now, at the death of still another day, the bri- BRITISH EMBASSY STRUCK BY BOMBS “Only do not go too far. last into the twisting flood Mackenzie, John Benham’s had found its way. Long days and still, mysterious The Uritish cmbassy.as it appear-i higmne of the fr.^n^^jisurgeht td. after being' struck by bombs dtir*| raids on the Spanish the fort buildings a group of Indians were gathering, Benham gestured to wards this group, “They will take care of yoiir lug gage,” he said slowly. “It i$ best that I leave immediately.” Ellen hesitated. “That first day, below Cascade Rapids—the morning you discovered I had stowed away— you spoke of exacting payment. I— what is that payment, John Benham?" The look he bent upon her was fathomless. “I would save you from that payment if I could now. But I am afraid that you must pay, just the same. Not to me—but to others.” “I—I don’t understand,” “You will.” He held out his hand. “Good-bye, Ellen Mackay.” For a moment her hand trembled in his. Then he had stepped back on to the scow. His deep voice call ed orders. The Crees bent to the sweeps and a moment later gry river was wafting him the mists. Something gathered in throat. She looked away and started feverishly up the slope. And no.w, coming towards her from the build ings was a little group of Indians led by a stooped, stumbling, white-hair ed man. the hun- off into Ellen’s Ellen looked across the flam es at this strange, still man. gade tied up there on the beach be- I • low Fort Edson. | Side by side^ on the leading scow, and John Benham j lovers in any sense of the word. If such fires burned within them, then j such fires were smouldering ones, j hidden, banked fires which would | need to know the ache of absence be- i fore thoroughly and consciously real ized. Yet each recognized in the oth er a kindred spirit, an understanding heart. The parting was commonplace enough. Ellen stepped to the shore and her baggage was placed beside ait Ellen looked aghast. “Pariier!’’ she cried. “Father!” She flgw to him, to this, stepped and gnarled patriach. What had hap pened? When she had left, four years before, this father of hers had been tall, ruddy and stalwart, al- j most as tall and stalwart as John I Benham. And now . . . How thin were his hunched shoulders! How feeble his step! She began to sob. It seemed that neither could speak intelligently now. Slowly they climb bed the slope together and entered the factor’s cabin. • It was dusky in the cabin. The door closed behind them and the old man sank into a chair with a deep, quavering sigh. “So ye have come at last, lass,” he said, and his voice was thin and high. “I was afraid—afraid ye had forgotten me, when De Soto' passed without ye.” Ellen looked at him wide-eyed. “Father—could you believe that?” There was hurt reproach in her voice. “I came immediately. I am a Mackay," she finished proudly. “Thank God for that, lass. And who was it that brought ye?” Before she thought the name slip ped out. “John Benham.” The old factor seemed to reel in his chair. His sagging head came" up. His hands gripped the arms of the chair in bloodless intensity. He star ed at her like a man glimpsing some fearsome ghost. His tongue flickered over his lips. “Ye came with—who?” Something icy closed about Ellen’s heart. Yet she had to answer. Joh Benham, father. , He—he very kind to me, where he had rea son, perhaps, to be otherwise.” The old man started to his and began to laugh, in high, shrill, senile each innations. He stumbled to and fro across the confines room. Suddenly the laughter and he began to curse—curse venom that was ghastly. “Damn him!” he -shrilled. him I He’s taken everything from me now. All he had left to me was a wee bit of pride—and now he has ta ken that You—-the daughter of An gus Mackay — travelled from yon dis tant landing to this fort With that squaw’s whelp, that thieving free trader. And mark ye, little fool, he’ll boast of it, Great God! Why did not the sickness of last winter take me off? I would have been spared this,” Ellen xva.s both sickened and,, frightened, There was something ..... . ,, K‘ things that no other man has ever ^,ne eYer c>JUJd do. His miracles ■£c\ . _ J were signs—of His person and His mission;. John tells us the purpose of these miracles: “That ye might be lieve that Jesus is the Christ, the Son uf God; and that believing ye might have life through His name.” (John In Jerusalem the Lord Jesus “saw a man which was blind from birth"’. The Light of the World a man who had lived his whole in. darkness. But that man was of the ceased with a I am that followetli Me shall not walk darkness, but shall have the light life. (John 8:12.) Here is a story—-and it is unim peachable history—etched in sharpest contrasts of black and white. A man wjlio had been brought up in a car penter’s home and shop in Galilee made a stupendous, staggering claim for Himself: I am the light of the world; he that followcth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life. Notice that the Lord Jesus did not say that He had the light, or that He could show men the light, He went infinitely beyond that in the claim, “I am the light,” And riot on ly the light of His home town, or His people of His generation, but the light ol thd Wrifid, Miracles were His credehtUls. He . ^nJj^^ajd things that nd otber 'man^Would’ dare tri sayj He did THOMAS FELLS, AUCTIONEER REAL ESTATE SOLD Thorough knowledge of Farm Stock. Phone 231, Wingham. It Will Pay You to Have An EXPERT AUCTIONEER to conduct your sale.. See T. R. BENNETT At The Royal Service Station. Phone 174W. J. ALVIN FOX Licensed Drugless Practitioner CHIROPRACTIC - DRUGLESS THERAPY - RADIONIC EQUIPMENT Hours by Appointment. Phone 191. Wingham F. A. PARKER OSTEOPATH All Diseases Treated. Office adjoining residence next to Anglican Church on Centre St. Sunday by appointment. . Osteopathy Electricity Phone 272. Hours, 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. A. R. & F. E. DUVAL CHIROPRACTORS swerable finality: “Whether He be, result must be given in the words a sinner or no, I know not: one thing ' I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.” The Pharisees kept on badgering the man, and commanded him to tell them all over again what had hap pened. He grew impatient, even with the haughty religious leaders of Jew ry: “I have told you already, and1 ye did not hear; wherefore would ye’ hear it again? Will ye disciples?” This accusation they repudiated. They were ciples, they said. “We know that God spake unto Moses: as for this fellow, we know not from- whence He is.” Now the man cornered his inquis itors. “Why herein is a marvellous thing, that ye know not from whence He is, and yet He hath opened mine j eyes. If this man were not of God, | He could do nothing.” 1 wo a fnn mnrli Tn oncrov f-liAtr of Scripture: “Who is He ,Lord, that I might believe on Him? And Jesps said un to him, Thou hast both seen Him,, and it is He that talketh with thee. And he said, Lord, I believe. And he worshipped Him.” The morn born blind received light for his body and his soul for time and eternity.his saw life go- !■ ing t© have reason for thanking God ■ that he had been born blind and had : Eved so long in darkness. Doubtless > he had complained many a time of > his affliction—but he stopped com plaining1 that day, and he has been rejoicing from’ that day to this that he was born blind, “that the works of God should be made manifest in | him.” . I The Lord stooped down and made j That was too much. In anger they clay of a bit of earth with His own j cried out: “Thou wast altogether saliva, and with this “He anointed| born in sin, and dost thou teach us?" the eyes of the blind man.” Then he put the man’s faith to the test. “Go;” said He, “wash in the pool of Si loam.” Suppose the man had had no faith in this stranger and had scoffed at His directions. He would have lived and died a blind man, physically and spiritually. But he -had faith, and both his physical and his spiritual eyes were opened. “He went his way therefore, and washed, and came see ing.” The* rest of the chapter is dramat ic in its ferse, vivid telling of what followed. The story is mostly in words of one and' two syllables, of utmost simplicity,, but unforgetable directness. People could mot believe that it was really the blind beggar who was now seeing, “Some said, This is he; oth ers said, He is like him; but he said, I am he.” They questioned and cross-ques tioned him; his answers were unhesi tating and clear. He knew tell just what had happened and he told it. Finally he was brought Pharisees, orthodox, theologically trained, but spiritually blind religious leaders of the Jews. They began to cross-question the man with the miraculous eye-sight. How had it been done? Who had done it? The miracle had been done on the Sabbath day, therefore, said the Pharisees, the miracle-worker, who ever he was,, “is not God, because he kcepeth not th,e Sabbath day,” But others of the Pharisees asked a troublesome question: “How can a man- that is a sinner do such mir acles?” finally they gave the healed man an ultimatum! “Give God the praises We know that this man is a sinner,” There came an answer from the ex-blind man that is a classic in its simplicity, It*’brevity, and Its unan- And they cast him out. But Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, took him in. He heard that the man had been cast out by the Pharisees; He found him . and asked him one question: “Dost th on believe on the Son of God?” The dialogue that followed and the LADY ASTOR British Politician FIRST PHOTO OF INFANT PRINCESS In this first photo of the infant' of a nurse, The little princess was daughter of the Duke and Duchess hern on Christmas Day of Kent, site is shown in the arms