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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Seaforth News, 1938-11-03, Page 6PAGE SIX. THE SEAFORTH NEWS THURSDAY, 'NOVEMBER 3, 1938• The Little Orphan The pole turned quickly and went. lengthwise into the rapids, He ran down the bank and I after him. The pole was speeding through the swift water. We scrambled over logs and through bushes, but the pole went faster than we. Presently it stopped and swung around. Uncle Eb went splashing into the brook. Almost within reach of the pole he dashed his foot upon a stone falling ,headlong in the current. I was 'close upon his heels and gave 'hint a hand, He rose hatless, dripping from head to foot. and pressed on. He lifted his pale, The line clung to a snag and then gave way; the tackle was missing. He looked at it silently, tilting his head. We walked slowly to the shore. Nei- ther spoke for a moment, 'Must have been a big fish," I re- marked, "Powerful!" said he. chewing vig- orously on his quid of tobacco as he shook his head and looked down at his wet clothing. "In a desp'rit fix aint I?" "Too bad!" I exclaimed. "Seldom ever hed sech a disapp'nt- ment," he said. "Ruther counted an ket'chin' thet fish -'-he was hooked." He looked longingly at the water a moment. "If I don't go hum:' said he, "an' keep any mouth shet 1':1 say sutnthin' 1'11 he sorry fer." He .vas never quite the sante after that. Fir told often of his struggle with this unseen, mysterious fish and I imagined he was a bit more given to reflection. He had had hold of the "01' settler of Deep Hole,"—a fish of great influence and renown there iu Faraway, Most of the local fisher- men had felt him tog at the line one time or another. No man had ever seen hint for the water was black in Deep Hole. No fish had ever exerted a greater influence on the thought, the imagination, the manners or the moral character of his contempor- aries. Tip Taylor always took off his hat and sighed when he spoke of the "or settler." Ransom Walker said he had once :ween 'his top fin and thought it longer than a razor. Ransom took to idleness and chewing tobacco im- mediately after his encounter with the big fish, and both vices stuck to him as long as he lived. Everyone had his theory of the "or settler," Most agreed he was a very heavy trout, Tip Taylor used to say that in his opinion "'twas nuthin' more'n a plain overgrown, common sucker," hut Tip came from the Sucker Brook country where suckers lived in colder water and were more entitled ,to respect, Mose Tupper had never had his hook in the "or settler" and would believe none of the many stories of adventure at Deep Hole that had thrilled the township, "Thet fish lees made s' many liars 'round here ye dunno who t' b'litre," he had said at the corners one day, after Uncle Eb had told his story of the big :fish. "Somebody 't knows how t' fish hed oughter go 'n ketch him fer the good o' the 'town—thet's what I think" Now Mr. Tupper was an excellent man but his incredulity was always too 'bluntly put. It had even led to some ill feeling. He came in at our place one even- ing with .a big hook and line from "down east"—the kind of tackle used in salt water. 'What ye 'goin' t' dew with it?" Uncle Eb inquired. "Ketch thet fish ye talk s' much about goin' t' put him ou't o' the way." "'Taint fair," 'said'Un.cle IEb, "its reediolous, Like leading a pup with a log chain.", "Don't care,". said Mose, ''I'm goin' t' go "fishin' t` morrer.. If :there reely is any sech .fish --which I don't be- lieve there is -I'm ,gain' t' rassie with. him an' lndlabe itele him out o' the river. Thet fish rs sp'iliti' the moral character o' this town, d -Ie oughter'he rode on a rail—that fish hed." How he .would 'punis'h a trout in that manner Mr. Tupper 'failed to explain, but his metaphor was always a worse .fit than this trousers and that was bad enough. It was 'just 'before haying and, there being little to do, we 'had also planned to try ,our 'lu'ck iq. 'the morn- ing. When, at sunrise, we were walk- ing down the cow path to 'the woods r saw Uncle Eb had a coil of bed cord on this shoulder. "What's that for?" I asked.. "Wall," said he, goin' to' 'hey fun anyway. If we can'tketch one thing well try -another," We bad -great luck that morning and when our basket was near full we came to Deep Hole and made ready for a scrim in the water above it, Uncle Ell had looped an end of the bed cord and tied a few pebbles on it with bits of string. "Now," said he presently, "I wan t' sink this loop a the bottom an' pass the end o' the cord under the drift wood so 't we can fetch it 'crost under water," There was a 'big stump, just op- posite, with roots running down the bank into the stream. I droved the line under the drift with a pole and then hauled it across where Uncle Eb drew it up the hank under the .stump roots. "In 'bout half an hour I ca'latc Mose Tupper '11 be 'long," he whisp- ered, "Wisht ye'd put on yer clo's an' lay here back the stump an' held on t' the cord. When ye feel a bite give a yank er two an' 'haul in like Sam Hill—:fifteen feet er mare gttickcr'n scat. Analch his pole right away from him. Then lay still." Uncle Eb left nie, shortly, going up stream. It was near an hour before I heard them coming. Uncle Eb was talking in a low tone as they came down the other bank. "Drop right in there," be was say- ing, "an' let her drag down, through the deep water, deliberate like. Git dos t' the 'bottom." Peering through a screen of bushes I could 'see .an eager look on the un- lovely face of Mose. He stood lean- ing toward the water and jiggling his hook along the bottom. Sudden- ly I saw Mose jerk and felt the cord move. I gave it a double twitch and began to pull. He 'held hard for a jiffy and then stumbled and let 'go yelling like mad. The pole bit the wa- ter with a splash and went out of sight like a diving frog. I brought it well under the foam and drift wood. Deep Hole resumed its calm, unruf- fled aspect. Mose went running to- ward Uncle Eb. "'S a whale!" he shouted. "Ripped the pole away quicker'n lightnin ," 'Where is it?" L'itcle Eb asked. "Tuk it away .f'm me," said Moses, "Grabbed it jes' like thet," he added with a violent jerk of. his hang. "What d' he dew with it?" 'Uncle Eb inquired. Mose looked thoughtfully at the wa- ter and scratched his head, his fea- tures all a tremble, "Dunne," said he. "Sweltered it mebbe." "Mean t' say ye lost hook, line, sinker 'n prole?" 'Hook, line, sinker 'n ,pule," he an- swered mournfully. "Come nigh haul - in' me in tew." ""Taint possible," said Uncle Eb. Mose expectorated, his hands upon his hips, looking down at the water. "Wouldn't eggzac'ly say 'twos pos- sible," he drawled, "but 'twas a fact," "'Yer mistaken;" said 'Uncle Eb. "No I hall t," was the .answer, "I tell ye I see it." "Then if ye see it the nex' thing Ye orter see 's a doctor, There's sum - thin' wrong with you sumwheres," 'Only one thing the matter o' me," said Mose with a little twinge of re- morse. "I'm jest a natural thorn .per- IEec' dum fool. Never c'u'd .'b'.lieve there was any •sech 'fish." "Nobody ever said there was any sech fish," said. :Uncle Eb. '''Re'g done more t' you 'n he ever done t' me. Never served me no sech •trick as. Chet, 'If I was you I'd. never ask no- body t' b'dieve it. 'Si a leetletew much." Mose went slowly and 'picked up his hat Then he returned and looked regretfully at the water. 'Never seethe beat o' th'e't," he went on, "'Never see sech power 're h fish. Knocks the spots off any fish I ever hearn od " Ye stied him with that big tackle o' yourn" said !Uncle IEb. "He would- n't stan' it." "Feel jest as if I'•d 'hed 'holt ay .a wit' cat," said Mose. "Tusk the hull thin Vole an'all—t 'uioker 'n g Pq'gh wut Nice a bit 'o' hickory as a man. ever 'see. Gal 'darned if I ever •heern o' the like o' that, ever" He sat down a moment on. ,the bank. 'Got t' rest a minute," he remarked. 'Teel 'kind o' wopsyafter thet squab- ble," They soon went away. And when Mose told the story of "the swallered pole" he got the same sort of repu- tation he had given to others. Only it was real and large and lasting, "Wha'®d' ye think 'in it?" he asked, when he had finished. "Wall," said Ranson Walker, "wouldn't want t' say right out plain t' yer face." "'Twou'ldn't be p'lite," said Uncle Eb soberly.. "Sound a fettle ha'sh," Tip Taylor added. "Thet fish .has jerked the fear o' God out o' ye—thet's the way it looks t' me," said Carlyle Banber, "Ye tip 'n the air, Mose," said an- other. 'Need a sinker on ye." They :bullied him—they 'talked 'hint down, demurring mildly, 'but firmly, "'Tell ye what I'll do," said _Mose sheepishly, "I'11 'b'lieve YOU fellers if you'll be'lieve me." "What, swap even? Not mu'eh1" said one, with emphasis, '"'Twouldn't be fair, Ye've ast us 't' b'lieve a genu- wine out '0 ;out impassibility." Mose lifted his hat and scratched .his head thoughtfully, There was a look of embarrassment in his face. "Might a ben 'dreamin'," said he slowly. "I swear it's •gittin' so here 'n this town a feller can't hardly b'lieve himself." "Fur 's my experience goes," said Ranson] Walker, "he'd be a fool 'f he did." "'Minds me o' the time I went ,fish - in' with Ab Thomas, said Uncle Eb. "]-Ie ketched an of cocker the fust thing. I went off by myself 'n got a good sized fish, but 'twain s' big 's hisn, So I tuk 'n opened his mouth 'n pourned in a lot o' fine shot. When 1 conte back Ab he looked at my fish '•n begun t' 'brag. When we weighed ',em mine was a leetle heavier. "" 1S''hat!' says he. "Taint possible thet leetle cuss uv a trout 's heavier 'n mine.' ""Tis sartin,' I said, "'Dunned deceivin' business,' said he as he hefted 'em both. 'Gittin' so ye can't hardly b'lieve the stillyurds,' CHAPTER XI The fifth summer was passing since we came down Paradise road—the dog, Uncle ,Eb and I. Times innumer- able I had heard my good 'old friend tell the story of our coming west un- til its every incident was familiar to me as the alphabet. Else I fear my youthful memory would have served me poorly for a chronicle of my child- hood so exact and so 'extended as this I tare written. Uncle Eb's 'hair was white now and the voices of the swift and the panther had grown mild and tremulous and unsatisfactory and ev- en absurd. Time had tamed the mon- sters of that imaginary wilderness and I had begun to lose my respect for them. But one fear had remained with me as I grew older—the fear of the night man. Every boy and girl in the valley trembled at the mention of him. Many a time I had 'held awake in the late evening to hear the men talk of him before they went asleep— Uncle Eb and Tip Taylor. I remem- ber a night when Tip said, in a low awesome tone, that the was a' ghost, The word carried into my soul the first thought of its great and fearful mystery. "Years and years ago," said he, "there was ,a boy by the name of Ne- hemiah Brower. An' .he 'kille,d another boy, once, by accident an' run away an' was drownded. "Drowneded l" said Uncle Eb. "How? "In the ocean," the first answered gaping, "Went away off 'round the world an' they get a letter than said he was drownded on this way to Van Dieman's Land." "Yes, an some say the night man is the ghost o' the one he 'killed." I remember waking that night and hearing excited whispers at the win- dow near my bed It was very dark in the room and at first I could not tell who was there, "D'onh you .see him?" Tip whisp- ered. "Where?" f .heard _'Uncle Eb as'ic "Under the pine trees—see him move." At that I was .up at thewindow. myself and could plainly see the dark figure of a man standing 'un'der the little Mae below 'us. "The night mail, I tguess," said Uncle IEb, "'but he won't do no harm. Let hiin along; he goin' away now. We saw hint disappear behind the trees and then we got 'back into .air beds again. I covered my head with the bed clothes acrd said a . small prayer for the poor night man, And in this atmosphere of mystery and adventure, among the plain folk of Faraway, whose care of nie when 1 w'ae in great need, and whose love inc4always,n among h of o I cdt t elect the 1 g priceless treasures of God's ;provid- ence, city childhood passed. And the day came near when I was to ,begin to play my :poor part in the world. ,GH'AFPE'R XIII le wasa time of new things ---that winter when I saw the end of my fif- teenth year. Then S (began to enjoy the finer h'um'ors of life in Faraway- to see with understanding; and by God's grace,'—ta feel. The land of play and .fear and fable was now far 'behind me and I' had be- gun to feel the infinite in the ancient forest, in the everlasting hills, in the deep of heaven, in all the ways of men. Hope Brower was now near woman grown. She had a beauty of face and 'form that was the talk of the country side. 4 have traveled far and seen 'many, a .fair face but never one more to my eye. I have heard men say she was like a girl out a story (book those days. Late years something had conte be- tween us. Long ago we had fallen out of each other's confidence, and ever since s'he ha.d seemed to shun rte. It was the trip in the sled house, that, years' after, came up 'between ars and broke our childish intimacy. Uncle Eb had told, 'before company, how she had kissed me that day and bespoke me 'for •a husband, and while the oth- ers laughed loudly she had gone out of the room crying. She would have little to say to me then' `And it made the miserable to 'hear the boys a bit older than I gossip of her 'beauty and accuse each other of the sweet dis- grace of love. But I must hasten to those events in Faraway that shaped our destinies And first comes that memorable night when I had the privilege of escortin•a Hope to the school lyceum where the argument of Jed Feary—poet of thi hills—fired my soul with an ambition that has remained with me always. Uncle !Eb suggested that I ask Hope to go with me, "Prance right alp to 'her," he said "an' say you'd be glad of the pleasure of her company." It seemed to me a very dubious thing to do. I looked thoughtful and turned red in the face, "Young man," ite continued, "the boy thet 's ''frtid o' women '11 never hey whiskers." "How 's that?" I inquired, "Be scairt t' death,"' he answered, "fore they've 'hed time t' start. Ye want t' step right up t' the rack jes' if ye'd bought art' paid fer yerself an was proud o' yer (bargain" I took his advice and when I found Hope alone in the parlor I carie and asked her, very awkwardly as I now remember, to go with .me. She Looked at me, 'b'lushing, and said she would ask her mother. And she did, and we walked to the school -house together that evening, her hand 'holding my arm, timidly, the most serious pair that ever struggled with the problem of deportment on such an occasion. I was oppressed with a heavy sense of responsibility in every wont I uttered. Ann Jane Foster, known as "Scoot- er (Jane," for her rapid walk and stiff carriage, met us at the corners on her way to the schoolhouse. "Big turn out I guess;" said she, "Jed .Feary 'n' Squire Town is comm' aver from 'Jingleville an' all the :big ;guns ''il the there. I love t' hear Jed Feary speak, he's so techin ," Ann 'Jane was always looking around for some event likely to touch her feelings. She went to every 'funer- al in Faraway and,when sorrow was scarce in her own vicinity, journeyed far in .quest of it, "Wouldn't _ wonder 'f the fur flew when they git t' goin';' she remarked, and then :hurried pn, her head erect, her 'body motionless, her legs ;flying, Such energy as she gave to the pur- suit of mourning I have never seen equalled in any other 'form of dissipa- tion. The schoolhouse was nearly full of people when we came in. The big boys were wrestling in the 'yard;; men were. lounging on the rude seats, inside, idly, discussing craps and cattle and lapsing into silence, frequently, that bore the signs both of expectancy and relflection. Young .men and young wo- men sat together on one side of the house whispering aii•d giggling. Alone among them was the 'big and 'eccen- tric granddaughter of Mrs. Bisnette who was always slapping some young- ster for impertinence. 'Jed Feary and. Squire Town sat together behind a pile of. hooks, !both looking very seri- ous. The ,long hair and 'heard of the old poet were now white and his forin bent with age. die came over and, spoke' to ;us and took a our' of Hope's hair . in his stiffened :fingers and held it to the Vlampliglit, "What silky gold!" he whispered. "'S a skein o' fate, my bear .girll" Suddenly the 'school teacher rap- ped on the desk and bade 'us come to order and 'R'ansom Walker was called to the chair. "Thet there is talent in Faraway township he s id, leaving reluctantly cone to the platform, "and talent of the very highest order, no. one can deny who has ever attended a lyceum at the Howard schoolhouse.'( see eve deuces of talent in. every 'face 'before me. And I wish to ask what are the two great talents of the Yankee—tat- ents that made our !forefathers famous the world overt I .pause for an an- swer." He had once been a schoolmaster and that accounted !for .didactic style. "What arethe two great talents of the Yankee?" he repeated, his hands clasped before stint,. "Doughnuts an' pie," said 'Uncle Eb who sat in a far 'corner. . "No sir," Mr. Walker answered, "'there's some her a -talent fer sawin' wood, but we 'don't count that. 'It's war an' speakin', they are, the two great talents 'of the 'Yankee. But his greatest talent is the .gift o' gab, Give hint a chance t' talk it over with his enemy an' he'll lick 'im without a fight, An' when his enemy is another Yankee—why, they 'both git 'licked, jest as it was in the case of the roan thet sold me lightnin' rods. He was sorry he done it before I 'got through with him. I'f .we did not encourage this talent in our sons they would he talked to death by our daughters. La- dies and !gentlemen, it gives ane plea- sure t' say that the 'best speakers in Faraway 'township have come here t' discuss the important question: • "Resolved, that intemperance has caused more misery than war? "I call upon 'Moses Tupper to open for the affirinative." lvloses, as I have remarked, had a most unlovely (face with a thin brist- ling growth of whiskers. In giving him features Nature had been gener- ous to a fault. He had a large red nose, and a mouth vastly too ,big for any proper use. It was a mouth ,fash- ioned for odd sayings. He was well to do and 'boasted often that he was a self made man, Uncle Eb used to say that if Mose Tupper had had the "ntakin uv himself he'd oughter done it more careful," I remember not much of the speech he made, but the picture of hien, as he rase on tiptoe and swung his arms like a man fighting bees, and his drawling tones are as familiar as the things of yesterday. "Gentlemen an' ladies," said he presently, "let the show you a pictur', It is the drunkard's child. It is hun- gry an' there ain't no food in its home,. The child is poorer'n a straw fed hoss. 'Tain't lied a thing t' eat since day before yistiddy. Pictur' it to yourselves as it comes eryin' to its mother an' says: "Dial Gi me a piece o' bread an' butter.' "She covers her face with her ap- ron an' says she, `There ain' none left, my child.' "An' bime bye the child comes ag- in' an' hb!ds alp its poor little han's an' says: 'Mal ,please gi' me a piece o' cake.' "An' she goes an' looks out o' the winder, er mebbe pokes the fire, an' says: 'There ain' none left, my child.' "An' bime bye it comes agin' an' it says: 1Please gi' me a piece o' pie,' "An' she imbibe .flops into a chair an' says, Bobbin,' 'There"ain' none left, my child. "No piel Now, Mr. Chairman!" ex- claimed the orator, as he 'lifted 'both hands high above his head, '•'Itf this ain't misery, in 'God's name, what is it? "'Years ago, when I was a young man, Mr. (President, I went to a dance one night at the village of Mig- leyvil'le. I got a toothache, an' the Devil tempted 'me with whiskey, an' I tuk one glass an' then another an' putty soon I begun t' think I was a nighty hefty sort of a character, I did, an' I stud om a corner an' skimp- ed everybody t' fight with me, an' Wine bye an accomrnodatin' kind of a chap conte along, an' that's all I re- member of what happened. When ,I come to, my coat tails had been tore off, I'd lost one .leg o' my 'trousers, a bran new silver watch, tew 'dollars in stoney, an a pair o' spectacles. When 1 stud .up an' tried t' realize .what hed happened I felt jes' like a 'blin'd roos- ter with only one leg an' no tail fea- thers." A roar of laughter !followed these frank remarks .of Mr. 'Tupper and broke into a storm .of merriment when 'Uncle E'b rose and said: "Mr. President, I'hape you see that the .misfortunes of our friend 'was Inc t' war, an' not to intemperance." Mr. Tupper was .unhorsed. For some .minutes 'he stood. 'helpless, or s'ha'king with the emotion that posses- sed all. Then he 'finished la'me'ly and sat down. PROFESSIONAL CARDS Medical SEAFORTH CLINIC Dr. E. A. McMaster, M.B., Gradu- ate of 'University of Toronto, J. D. Golquhoun, M.D., C.M., 'Grad- uate of 'Dalhousie 'University, Halifax. The Clinic is fully ' u ]y equipped wi'bh• complete and modern x-ray and other up-to-date diagnostic . and thereuptic equipment. Dr. Marga're't K. Campbell, M.D.,. L.A B.P. Specialist in Diseases in Infants and Children, will .be at the Clinic 'last Thursday in every month from 3 to '6 p.m. Dr. F. J. R. Forster, Specialist in Diseases of the Ear, Eye, . Nose; a'nd. Throat, will be at the Clinic the first Tuesday in every month from 4 to - 6 o6 !p,m. Free well -baby clinic will be held' on the second and last Thutmsd'ay in every month from 1 to 2 pm. W. C. S'PROAT, M.D., F.A.C.S. Surgery Phone 90-W. •Offioe John St., Seaforth DR. II. H'UiGIH ROSS, Physician and Surgeon Late of London Hos- pital, London, England, Special at- tention to diseases of the eye, ear, nose and throat. Office and residence r'be'li.ind Dominion Bank. Office Phone No. 5; Residence Phone 104. DR, F. J. BIURROWS, %Office Main St, Seaforth, over Dominion Bank, Hours 2.15 and 7 to 8 p.m, and by ap- pointment. Residence, ,Goderich St., two doors west of 'United Church, Phone 4'b. DR F. J. R. FO1.STE'R- Eye Ear, Nose and Throat. Graduate in Medicine, University of Toronto 1897. Late Assistant New York Ophthal- mic and Aural Institute, Moorefield's Eye, and Golden Square throat hospi- tals, London, At Commercial Hotel, Seaforth, third Wednesday in each month from 1.30 p.m. to '5 •p,m. Auctioneer. GEORGE ELLIOTT, Licensed Auctioneer for the County of Huron. Arrangements can be made for Sale Date at The Seaforth News, Charges moderate and satisfaction. guaranteed F. W. AHRENS, Licensed Auotiot eel' for Perth and Huron Counties. Sales Solicited, Terms an Application. Farm Stock, chattels and real estate property. R. R. N. 4, Mitchell. Phone 634 r 6, Apply at this office. WATSON & REID REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE AGENCY (Successors to James Watson) MAIN ST., SEAFORTH, ONT. All kinds of Insurance risks effect- ed at lowest rates in •First -Class Companies, THE R1cKILLOP Mutual Fire Insurance Cil HEAD OFFICE—SEAFORTH, Ont OFFICERS President, Thomas Moylan, Sea - forth; Vice President, William Knox, Lon.desiboro; Secretary Treasurer, M A. Reid, Seaforth. AGENTS F. McKercher, R.R,11, Dublin; John E. Pepper, R.R.1, Brucefielel; E. R. G. Yarmouth, Brodhagen; James Watt, Blyth; C. F. Hewitt, Kincardine; Wm. Yeo, Holmesville. DIRECTORS Alex. Broadfoot, Seaforth No. 3; James S'holdice, Walton; Wm. Knox, Londesboro; George Leonhardt, Bornholm No. 1; Frank 'McGregor, Clinton No. 5; James Connolly, God - , rich; Alex McEwing, Blyth No. 1; Thomas :Mylan, Seaforth No. 5; Wm. R. Archibald, Seaforth No. 4. Parties desirous to effect insurance or transact other business, will be promptly attended to by applications to any of the above named officers addressed to their respective post - offices. The narrowness of the man that saw so much where there was so lit- tle in his own experience and in the trivial events of his own township was what I now recognize as most valuable to the 'purpose of this his- tory. It was a narrowness that cov- ered a m'ultitude of .people in St, .Law- rence caupty in those days. (To Be Continued) "The General's sick:" "'Really! W'het's the matter?" "Oh, things in ,general," He'—"Did you notice how my voice filled the hall 'last night?" She—"Yes, dear. I noticed several people leaving to make room for it." 1