Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Seaforth News, 1938-11-10, Page 6PAGE SIX. The Little Orphan Jed Feary was greeted with ap-i tried to find in the sweat of my ,brow that exalted pleasure of which ,Mr. Greeley had visions in his comfortable retreat on Printing House Square, But unfortunately ;I had not his point of view. Hanging in my library, where I may see it as 2 write, is the old sickle of Uncle •Eb, The hard hickory of its handle is worn thin by the grip of his, band. It 'becomes a melancholy sym- bol when I remember how also the hickory bad worn him thin and bent him low, and how infinitely :better than all the harvesting of, the sickle was the strength of that man, dimin- ishing as it wore the wood, I cannot help smiling when I look at the sickle and think of the soft hands and tend- er amplitude of Mr. Greeley. The great ,editor had been a play- mate of David Brower when they were boys, and his paper was read with much reverence in our home. 'How- quick ye can plow a ten acre lot with a pen," Uncle Eb .used to say when we had gone up to lbed after fa- ther had been reading alpud from his Tribune. Such was the power of the press in that country one had but to say of any doubtful thing, "Seen it in print" to stop all argument. If there were any further doubt he had only to say he had read it either in the Tribune or the Bible, and couldn't remember which. Then it was a stere question of veracity in the speaker. Books and other reading were carefully put away for an improbable time of leisure, "I might break my leg some time," said ])avid Brower, "then they'll come handy." But the Tribune was read carefully every week. 1 hate seen David Brower stop and look at'nte while I have been digging potatoes, with a sober grin such as carate to him always after he had swapped "bosses" and got the worst of it. Then he would show me again, with a little impatience in his manner, !tow to hold the handle and straddle the row. He would watch me for a moment, turn to Uncle Eb, laugh hopelessly and say: "Thet boy'll hev to be a minister. He can't work." But for Elizabeth Brower it might have gone hard with me those days. My mind was always on my books or nay last talk with (Jed Feary, and she shared my confidence and fed my hopes and shielded me as much as possible from the heavy work. Hope had a Better head for mathematics than 1. and had always helped me with my suns, but I had a better me- mory and an aptitude in other things that kept me at the 'head of most of my classes. Best of all at school 'I en- joyed the "compositions"— I had many thoughts, such as they were, and some facility of expression, 1 doubt not, for a child. Many chroni- cles of the country side came off my pen—sketches of odd events and char- acters there in Faraway, '.('hese were read to the assembled household, Eli- zabeth Brower would sit looking gravely down at me, as I stood by her knees reading, in those days of my early boyhood. Uncle Eb listened with his head turned curiously, as if his ear were cocked for coons. Some- times he and David Brower would slap their knees and laugh heartily, whereat my foster mother would give them a quick glance and .shake her head. For she was always fearful of the day when she should see in her children the birth of vanity, and sought to put if off as far as might he. Sometimes she would cover her mouth to hide a smile, and, when I had finished, look warningly at the rest, and say it was good, for a little boy. Her praise never went further, and indeed all those people hated flat- tery as they did the devil and frowned upon conceit. She said that when the love of flattery got hold of one he would lie to gain it. I can see this slender, !blue eyed woman as I write, She is walking up plause and then by respectful silence when he rose to speak. The fame of his verse and his learning had gone far beyond the narrow ,boundaries of the township in which he lived. It was the ,biggest thing in the county. Many a poor sinner who had gone out of Faraway to his long home got his first praise in the Obituary poem by Jed Feary. These tributes were generally published in the county paper and paid for by the relatives of the deceased at the rate of a dollar a day' for the time spent on them, or by a 'few days of ,board and lodging— glory and consolation that was, alas! too cheap, as one might see 'by a glance at his forlorn figure. I shall never forget the courtly manner, so strangely in contrast with the rude deportment of other men in that place, with which he addressed the chairman and the people. The drawl- ing dialect of the vicinity that flav- ored his conversation fell from hint like a mantle as he spoke and the light in his soul shone upon that little company—a great light. as 1 naw remember, that filled me with burning thoughts of the world and its nighty theatre of action. The way of my life lay clear before me. as I listened, and its days of toil and the sweet success my God has given me. although I take it (tunably and hold it infinitely above my merit. I was to get learning and seek some :way of expressing what was in me. It would ill become me to try to repeat the words of this venerable seer. but he showed that intemper- ance was an individual sin. while war was a national evil. That one meant often the ruin of a race: the other the ruin of a family: that one was as the ocean, the other as a single drop in its waters. And he told us of the fall of empires and the millions that had suffered the oppression of the conqueror and perished by the sword since Agamemnon. After the debate a young lady read a literary paper 'full of clumsy wit, rude chronicles of the country side, essays on ".Spring," and like topics— the work of the best talent of Far- away. Then came the decision, after which the meeting adjourned. At the door some other boys tried "to cut me out." I came through the noisy crowd, however, with Hope on my arm and my heart fall of a great happiness. "Did you like it?" she asked. "Very .much," I answered, "What did you enjoy most?" "Your company," I said. with a fine air of gallantry. "'Honestly. I want to take coo to Rickards some tine?" That was indeed a long cherished hope, "Maybe I wont let you," she said. "a,Vouldn't you?" "You'd better ask ire some time and see." "I shall. I wouldn't ask any other girl." "Well," she added, with a sigh, "if a boy likes one girl I don't think he ought to have anything to do with other girls. I hate a flirt." I happened to hear a football in the snow behind us, and looking back saw Ann Jane Foster going slow in easy hearing. She knew all, as we soon found out. "I dew •jes love t' see young folks enjoy themselves," said she, "it's en- trancin' 1" Coming in at our gate I saw a man going over the wall ?back of the big stables. The 'house was dark. "Did you see the night man?" Eliz- abeth 'Brower whispered as I lit the lamp, "Went through the garden just now. I've !been watching him here at the window." CHAPTER XIII The love Of labor was counted a great virtue there in Faraway, As for myself, I could .never put my heart in a ,hoe handle or in any like tool of THE SEAFORTH NEWS spindle as she feeds it with the (fleecy ropes. That loud 'crescendo echoes in the still; house of memory. 'I can hear her singing •as she stops forward and slows the wheel and swings the cra- dle with her 'foot: "On the other side of Jordan, In the sweet fields of Eden, 'Where the tree of Life is blooming, There is rest for you." She lays her hand to the snakes again and the roar of the spindle drowns her voice. A day,from- 11 he•,bneakf as t hour to t supper time, 1 have heard the dismal sound of the spinning as she walked the !floor, content to sing of rest brut never taking it, Her Bone was almost a miracle of neatness. She could work with no peace of mind until the house had been swept and dusted. A., fly speck on the window was enough to cloud her day. She went to town with David now and then—not oftener than once a quarter—and carate back ill and ex- hausted. If she sat in a store waiting for David, while he went to mill or smithy, her imagination gave her no rest. That dirt abhorring mind of hers would .begin to clean the windows, and when that was 'finished it would sweep the floor and dust the counters. In due course it would lower the big chandelier and take out all the lamps and wash the chimneys with soap and water and rulb them till they shone. Then, if David :had not come, it would put in the rest of its time on the woodwork. \Vith all her cleaning I ani sure the good woman kept her soul spotless. Elizabeth Brower be- lieved in goodness and the love of God, and knew no fear. 'Uncle Eb used to say that, wherever Elizabeth Brow- er went hereafter it would have to he clean and convfortalble, E'lder Whitmarsh came often to dinner of a Sunday, when he and Mrs. Brower talked volubly about the .Scriptures, he taking a sterner view of God than she would allow. He was an Englishman by ,birth, who had set- tled in Faraway because there he had found relief for a serious affliction of asthma. He carate over one noon in the early summer, that followed the ,event of our ,last chapter, to tell vs of a strawberry party that evening at the White Church, "'I've had a wonderful experience," said he as he took a seat on the piaz- za, while Mrs. Brower carne and sat near him, "I've discovered a great ge- nius—a wandering fiddler, and I shall try to bring him to play for us," "A fiddler! 'Why, Elder!" said site, "you astonish ate!" 'Nothing but sacred ,music," he said, lifting his hand, "I heard him play all the grand things today -Rock' of Ages,' 'Nearer My God, to Thee,' 'The b'Iarseillaise' and 'Home, Sweet Home.' Lifted me off my feet! I've heard the great masters' in New York and London, but no greater player than this mane "Where is he and where did he come from?" "He's at my house now," said the good man, "II found him this morn- ing. He stood under a tree by the road side, above Northrup's, As I came near 1 heard the strains of 'The Marseiliaise, For more than an hour I sat there listening. It was wonder- ful, Mrs. Brower, wonderful! The poor fellow is eccentric. He never spoke to me. His clothes were dusty and worn. But his music went to my heart like a voice ,from Heaven. When he had finished 'I took him home with me, gave •him food and a new ' coat, and left him sleeping. I want you to come over, and be sure to Taring Hope. She must sing for vs." "Me. Brower will he tired out, but perhaps the young people may go," she said, looking at Hope and me. My heart gave a leap as I saw in Hope's eyes a reflection of nay own joy. in a moment she came and gave her mother a sounding kiss and asked her what she should wear. "I mast look nay 'best, mother," she said. "My child," said the elder, "it's what you do and not what you wear that's important," 'They're both important, Eld- er," said my foster mother, "You should teach your people the duty of comeliness. They honor their Maker when they look their best" The spirit of liberalism was abroad in the sons of the Puritans, In Eliza- beth Brower the ancient austerity of her race had been 'freely diluted with humor and cheerfulness and human sympathy, 'It used to be said of Dea- con 'Hospur, a good but •lazy, man, that he was given both to prayer and profanity. uncle Eb, who had once heard the deacon swear, when the lat- ter had been bruised by a kicking cow, said that, so far as he knew, the deacon never swore except when t' was necessary. Indeed, most of those men had, I doubt not, too little of that fear of God in them that ,oharacteriz- :d their fathers. And yet, as shall ap• near, there were in Faraway some rel• cs of a stern faith. Hope came out in fine feather, and toil. They made a blister upon my and. down beside her spinning wheel, spirit, as well as upon my handsr; I' I can hear the dreary 'buz-z-z of the THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1938.' although .I have seen ,many grand la- dies :gowned Jfetr the eyes of "kings, I have never seen a lovelier 'figure than. when, that evening, she came tripping down to the buggy. It was . three miles to the White Church, and riding over in the twilight I laid the plan of my life .before her. She sat a moment in silence after I had •finished. I amcin too she re- marked, awaY marked, with a sigh. 'Going away!" I said with some surprise, for in all my pians I had sec- retly counted on returning in grand style to take her ,batik with me. "Going away, said she decisively. "It isn't nice for girls to go away from home," I said. 'It isn't nice for ,boys, either," said she. We had come to the church, its op- en doors and windows all aglow with. light. I helped her out at the steps, and. hitched my Horse under the long shed. We entered together and made our way through the chattering crowd. to the little cloak room in one corner. Elder Whitmarsh arrived in a moment anti the fiddler, a short, ,stout, stupid looking man; his fiddle in a blaok box under this arm, followed 'hint to the platform that had been cleared of its pulpit. The stranger stood staring .va- cantly, at the crowd until the elder motioned him to a chair, when he ob- eyed with the hesitating, blind obedi- ence cd a dog. Then the elder n'iede a brief ,prayer, and after a. few remarks flavored with pants, sacred and imme- morial as the pulpit itself, started a brief program of entertainment. A broad smile marked the beginning of his lighter mood. His manner seemed to say: Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will give good heed, you shall see I can be witty on occasion." 'Then a young man came to the plat- form and recited, after which Hope went forward and sang "The Land o' the Leal" with such spirit that I can feel my blood go taster even now as I think of it, and of that girlish figure crowned with a glory of fair curls that felt low upon her waist and ming- led with the wild pink roses at her bosom. The fiddler sat ,quietly as if he heard nothing until she began to sing, when he turned to look at her. The elder announced, alter the bal- lad, that he had brought with him a wonderful musician who would favor their with some sacred music. He used the word "sacred" because he had observed, I suppose, that certain of the "hardshells" were looking ask- ance at the fiddle. There was an awk- ward moment in which the fiddler made no move or sign of intellig- ence, The elder stepped near him and whispered. ,Getting no response, he returned to the front of the platform and said: "We shall first resign our- selves to social intercourse and the good things the ladies have 'provided." Mountains of frosted cake reared their snowy summits •on a long table, and the strawberries, heaped in sauc- ers around them, were like red foot- hills. P remember that while they were serving us Hope .and I were in- troduced to one Robert Livingstone — a young New Yorker, stopping at the inn near by, on his way to the big woods. He was a handsome fellow, with such a fine air of gallantry and so trig in fashionable clothes that he made me feel awkward and uncom- fortable. I have never heard anything more delightful than that !ballad," he said to Hope. "You must have your voice trained—you really must. It will make a great name for you." I wondered then why his words hurt Inc to the soul. Tire castle of my dreams had 'fallen as he spoke. A new light came into her face—I did not know then what it meant. "Will you let me call upon you be- fore I leave—may I?" He turned tome while she stood silent, "I wish to see your father," he added, 'Certainly," she answered, blush- ing, "you may come -if you care to come," The musiciaif had begun to thrum the strings of his violin. We turned to look at him. He still sat in his chair, his ear bent to the echoing chamber of the violin. Soon he laid his bow to the strings and a great chord hushed every whisper and died into a sweet, ,low melody, in which his thought seemed to be feeling its way through sombre paths of sound. The music brightened, the bow went faster, and suddenly "The 'Girl I Left Behind Me" came rushing off the strings,. A look of amazement gath- ered on the •elder's face and :deepened into horror. It went from one to an- other as if it had been a ,dish of ipe- cac. Ann ]Jane Foster went directly for her things, and with •a most un- christian look hurried out into the night. Half a dozen others followed her, while the unholy music went on, its merry echoes rioting in that sacred room, hallowed with memories of the hour of conviction, of the day of mourning, of the coming of the bride in her beauty, Deacon Hospur rose and began to drawl a sort of apology, when the 'Mayer stopped suddenly- and shot an oath at him. The deacon staggered ,tinder the shoik of it. His whiskers seemed to lift a .bit like the hair of a cat under provocation, Then he tried to speak, but only stuttered helplessly a moment as if his tongue were os- cillating between -silence and profan- ity, and vias,finaily,ptilled down. by his wife, who had laid - hold of 'his coat tails. If it had been any .other than Deacon .1:Ipspur it would have gone. badly Iktith the musician thenand there, :but we boys saw his discomfi- ture with positive gratitude. In a mo- ment ,all rose, the dishes were gather- ed up, and many hurried away with indignant glances at the poor elder, who was 'busy taking. counsel .with some of the brethren. I have never seen a more pathetic figure .than that of poor Niolc :Goodall as he sat there thrumming the strings of which he was a Heaven -born mas- ter. I saw hien often after that night— a poor, half-witted creature, who wan - tiered from inn to inn there in" the north country, trading music for lion- pitality. A thoroughly intelligible sentence never .passed his lips, but he had a great gilt of eloquence in mu- sic. Nobody 'knew whence he had come or any particular of ,his `birth or training or family. But for his sullen temper, that !broke into wild, unmean- ing ,profanity at times, Nick Goodall would have made fame and •fortune. II'e stared ,at the thinning crowd as if be had begun dimly to comprehend the havoc Ile had wrought Then he put on his. chat, came down off the platform, acid shuffled out of theopen door, his violin in one hand, its box in the other. There were not more than a dozen of us who followed hint into the little churchyard. The moon was rising, and the shadows of lilac and rose !bush, of slab and monument lay long ,across the green mounds. Standing there between the graves of the dead he .began to play. I shall nev- er forget that solemn calling of the silver string: "Conte ye 'disconsolate where'er ye languish." It was a new voice, a revelation, a light where darkness had been, to Hope and to me. We stood' listening far into the night, forgetful of every- thing, even :the swift flight of the hours. Loud, impassioned chords rose into the moonlit sky and sank to a taint whisper of melody, when we could hear the gossip of the birds in the bel- fry and under the eaves: trembling tones of supplication, wailing notes of longing and regret swept through the silent avenues of the churchyard, thrilling us with their eloquence, For the 'first time we heard the music of Handel, of +Mendelssohn, of Pagani- mi, and felt its power, then knowing neither naive nor theme. Hour by hour he played on for the mere joy of it. When we shook hands with the elder and tiptoed to the buggy he was Still playing. We drove' slowly and listened a long way down the road, I could hear the strains of that ballad, then new to ate, but now familiar, growing fainter in' the distance: O ye'll tak' the high road an' I'll tak' the low road An' I'll he in Scotland afore ye; But me an' me true love will never meet .again On the bonnie, bonnie hanks o' Loch Lomond. PROFESSIONAL CARDS 1Vfedieal SEAFORTH CLINIC Dr. E. A. McMaster, M.B., Gradu- ate of 'University of Toronto. D, Colquhoun, M.D., C.M., 'Grad- uate of 'Dalhousie University, Halifax. ed fullyequipped The Clinic isq plp with complete,and modern x-ray and other up -oto -date diagnostic and thereeptic equipment. Dr. Margaret K, Campbell, M.D„ L.A.B.P., Specialist in Diseases in Infants and Children, ill be at the will Clinic last Thursday in every months from 31 to '6 p.m, Dr. F. J. R. Forster, Specialist in Diseases of the Ear, Eye, Nose and Throat, will be at the 'Clinic the first Tuesday in every month from 4 to 6 p.m. Free well -baby clinic will ,be held on the second and last Thursday in every month from I to 2 What connection it may have had with the history of poor Nick Good- all I have often wondered. As the last note died into silence I turned to Hope, and she was crying, "Why are you crying?" I asked, in as miserable a moment as I have ever known, 1 "It's the music," she said. We ,both sat in silence, then, hear- ing only the creak of the buggy as it sped over the sandy road. Well ahead of us I saw a .man who suddenly turned aside, vaulting over the fence and running into the near woods, 'The night man!" I exclaimed, pulling up a moment to observe him. Then a buggy came in sight, and ,presently we heard a loud "hallo" from David Brower, who, worried by our long stay, had come out in quest of us. CRAFTIER XIV Hope's love of music ;became a pas- sion after that night. Young Mr. Liv- ingstone, "the city chap" we had mot at the church, came over next day., His enthusiasm for her voice gave as all great hope of it. David Brower said he would take her away to the big city when she w.as older. They soon decided to send her in Septem- ber to the big school in Hillsbor- ough. "She's got 't' be a lady," said David Brower, as he drew her into his lap the day we 'had all discussed the mat- ter. "She's (learnt everything in the 'rithmetic an' geography en' speller. I want her t' leant so'methin' more scientific." "Now you're talkie'," said "]Uncle IEi. '"'There's dots o' things 'ye can't learn ,by cipherin'. Nethin's too ,good .for Hope," "I'd like t' 'know what you mien ex- pect of her anyway," said Elizabeth W. C. SPROAT, M.D., F.A.C.S. Surgery Phone 90-W. Office John St., Seaforth DR. H. HUGH 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 gesidence behind Dominion Bank. Office Phone No, 5; Residence Phone 104. DR. F. J. BURROWS, ,Office Main St., Seaforth, over Dominion Bank. Hours 2-8 and 7 to 8 p,m. and by ap- pointment. Residence, Godcrich St., two doors west of 'United Church. Phone 416, DR, F. J. R. FORSTIER— 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 M each month from 1.30 p.m. to 5 p.m. Auctioneer. GEORGE ELLIOTT, Licensed kuctioneer 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 eer for Perth and Huron Counties, Sales Solicited. Terms on Application, Farm Stock, chattels and real estate property. R. R, No. 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 McKILLOP Mutual Fire lusurauce C HEAD OFFICE—SEAFORTH, Ont. O'PFI CERS President, Thomas Moylan, Sea - forth; Vice President, William Knox,. Londeaboro; Secretary Treasurer, M A. Reid, Seaforth. AGENTS F. lvtcKercher, R.R.1, Dublin; John, E. Pepper, R.R.1, Brucefield; E. R. G. Yarmouth, Brodhagen; James Watt, Blyth; C. F. Hewitt, Kincardine; Wm, Yeo, Holmesville, DIRECTORS Alex. Broadfoot, Seaforth No. 3;. James Sholdice, Walton; Wm. Knox, Londesboro; George Leonhardt, Bornholm No, 1; Frank MoGregor, Clinton No. 5; James Connolly, God- erich; Alex McEwing, Blyth No. 1; Thomas Moylan, Seaforth No. 5;, Wnt. 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. Brower, "Yes! an' thet's another secret," said he. I tol' D'avid Brower what I thought 0' your writing thet essay on bugs in ,pertiokler—an' I tol' 'im what people were sayin' o' your work in school," (To Be Continued) .. "1 heard about a man who lived on onions alone," "Anyone who lives on onions should," Auto Salesman I(desperately)a "But,' naadant, if you take this car we will put you initials on it free." Mrs. 'Saver: "But imy husband says it's not the initial •cost .thatcounts, but the upkeep."