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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Seaforth News, 1938-11-24, Page 6PAGE SIX. THE SEAFORTH NEWS THURSDAY, NOV. 24, 1938. he Little Orphan Ab's tongue had limberedup at last. His pipe was well a going and he seemed to have struck an easy grade. There was a tone of injury and aggrievement in his talk of the, bear's ingratitude. He smiled over his whittling as we laughed heartily at the droll effect of it all. "D'ye ever hear o' the wild man 'at roams 'round's these woods?" he asked. 'Never did,"' said Uncle Eb, "I've seen 'im more times 'n ye could shake a stick at," said Ab cross- ing his legs comfortably and spitting; into the fire. "Kind o' think he's the sante man folks tells uv down'n Para- dise Valley there—'at goes 'round 'n the clearin' after bedtime," "The night ratan!" I exclaimed. "Guess theft what they call 'int," said fib. "Cerus moan I Sometimes I've hed a good .quint at 'int ofi'n the woods. He's wilder' n a deer an' I've peen 'inn jamp over logs, half as high as this shanty, jest as easy as ye 'd hop a twig. Tried t' foller 'int once gr twice but lain' no use. He's quicker nawil'cat" "What Bind of a lookin' man is he?" Tip Taylor asked. "Great, big, br.'ad shouldered Id- ler," said A't. "Six feet tali :: he's an inch, Hr"1 a kilnd cif a deerskin jacket ;on wheti I rein 'inn an' breeches an' moccasins made ,I some kind e'' bide. I recallcc' one day I was c." er on the ridge two mile er nt,tre from the Stillwater gain' south. I seed 'im. gittin' a drink at the spring there 'n the burnt timber. :\n' if Itaken there there was a real lice panther playin' 'round 'in. if 't ',va'ii t a panther ['was pesky nigh it I can tell ye, The critter see rata fust an' drew up 'is back. Then the Iran got up quickerin' a flash, Soon's he see me —tjtetniuyl didn't they move. Never see no human critter run as he did! A bis; tree hed fell 'cross a lot a' bush right 'n his path. I'll be gol dummed if t' want higher 'n my head! But he cleared it jest as easy as a grasshopper 'd go over a straw, I'd like t' know where he comes from, gol dammed if I wouldn't. He's the consarndest 'queerest animal 'n these woods. A'b emphasized this lucid view of the night :watchman by an animated movement of his fist that held the' big hunting knife with which he whittled. , Then he emptied his pipe and began cutting more tobacco. "Some says 'e 's a ghost," said Tip Taylor, splitting his sentence with a yawn, as he lay on a buffalo robe in ,the shanty. "Shucks an' shoestrings!" said Ab, "he looks too nat'ral. Don't believe , no ghost ever wore whiskers an' long hair like his'n. Thct don't hol' t' reason," This remark was followed by dead silence. Tip seemed to lack both . courage and information with which to prolong the argument. Gerald had long been asleep and we were all worn out with up hill travelling and the lack of rest. Uncle Eb went out to look after the horses that were tethered near us. kb rose, looked up through the tree tops, ventured a guess about the weather, • and strode off into the darkness. We were 'five days in camp, hunt- ing, fishing, fighting flies and picking 'blueberries. Gerald's cough had not improved at all—it was, if anything, a 'bit • worse than it 'had been and the worry of that had clouded our holiday. We were not in high spirits when, finally we decided to break camp the .next afternoon. The morning of our fourth day at Blueberry, Uncle Eb and I crossed the lake, at .daylight, to fish awhile in Soda Brook and gather .orchids then abundant and !beautiful hi that part of the woods. We headed for camp at noon •and were well away front shore when a wild yell rang in the dead timber that Choked the wide inlet be- hind us. I was rowing and stopped the oars while we both looked back •at the naked trees, belly deep in the water. But for the dry limbs, here and there, they would have looked like masts of sunken ships, In a moment another wild whoop carate rushing over the water. Thinking it night be somebody in trouble we worked a- bout and pulled for the mouth of ,the inlet. Suddenly I saw a 'boat earning in the dead timber. There were three nen in it, two of whom were pad- dling. They yelled like mad men as they caught sight of us, and one of them waved a bottle in the air. "They're Indians," said Uncle Eb. 'Drunk as lords, Guess we'd better git out o' the way," I put about and with a hearty Tull made for the other side of the lake, three utiles away, The Indians came after us, their yells echoing in the far forest. Suddenly one of then[ lifted his rifle, as if taking aim at ns, and, hung it went, the hall ricochetting a- cross OUT bonus, "Crazy drunk," said Uncle. Eh, "alt they're in fer trenhle. Pull with all yen might." I did that same, putting my arils „ stiffly to their task that I feared the oars would break. In a moment another hall carte splintering the gunwales right 'he- taeen tis, but fortunately, well above the a atsr line. Beim" half a mile from :hare I saw ere were in great seri". l ,ti•le Eh reached for his rifle, his hand trembling, "Sink 'ern." I shouted. "an' ilo it gtn!ek or they'll sink ns, MI i n;c:nira tick careful ::bra and .his 'ball !lit them right on the starboard 'tow below the water :hie. .\ splash told where it had landed. They stopped yelling. The ratan in the bow clapped his hat against the side of the boat. "(Mess we've gin 'est a little busi- ness t' ten' to," said Uncle Eb a, be made haste to load his rifle. The Indian at the bow was lifting leis rifle again He seemed to reel as he took aim. He was very slow about it I kept pulling as I watched hien. I saw that their boat was slowly sink- ing, 1 had a strange fear that lie world bit int in the stomach. I dod- ged when I saw the flash of his rifle. His •ball .struck the water, ten feet away front us, and threw a spray into my face. Uncle Eb had lifted his rifle to shoot again. Suddenly the Indian, who had shot at us. went overboard. In a second they were all in the water their boat bottom up. "Now take yer tine," said Uncle Eb cooly, a frown upon his .face. "They'll drown," said I. "Don't care if they do, consarn 'en," he answered, "They're some o' them St. Regis devils, an' when they git whisky in 'em they'd jes' soon kill ye as look at ye. They sin' no 'helter'n rats.' We kept on our way and 'by and by a wind came up that gave us both some comfort, for we knew it would blow then[ ashore. Ab Thomas had come to our camp and sat with Tip and'Gerald when we got there. We told of our adventure and then Al) gave us a+ bad tura, and a proper ap- preciation of our lurk, by telling us that they were a gang of cut- throats—the worst in the wilderness. "They'd a robbed ye sure," he said. "It's the same gang 'at killed a man on Cat Mountain las' summer, an' I'll bet a dollar on it." Tip had everything ready for our journey hone. Each day Gerald had grown paler and thinner. As we wrapped him in a shawl and tenderly helped him into the wagon I read his doom in his face. We sate so much of that kind of thing in our stern _climate we knew what it meant, Our fun was over. We sat in silence, speeding down the long hills in the fading light of the afternoon. Those few solerhn 'hours in which I heard only the wagon's rumble and the sweet calls of the whippoorwill— waves of music on a sea of -silence— started me in a way of thought which has led me high and low these many., years ,and still invites ire, The clay was near, its' end when, we_ got, to the first big clearing. From the top of a high hill we could see above the far forest, the ted rim of the setting sun, big with winding front the skein of day, that was now flying off the tree tops in the' west. . We' stopped to !feed the horses and to take a bite of jerked venison, wrap° ped ourselves warmer, for it was now dusk and chilly, and went on again. The Toad went mostly down hill, go- ingf •h out t o the woods, and we could make good time I't •was near raid- night when we drove in at' our gate. There was a light in the 'sitting• -room and Uncle Eb and I went in with Gerald at. once. Elizabeth Brower knelt at the feet of her son, unbut- toned his coat and took off his muff- ler, Then she put her arms about his nett while neither spoke nor uttered any sound. Both mother and son felt and unders'too)ti and were silent. The ancient law of''God, that rends asun- der and makes havoc of our plans, bore heavy on theng in that moment, I have no doubt, but neither mur- mured. Uncle Eib began to pump vig- orously at the cistern while David fussed with the fire. We were all quaking inwardly .but neither !be- trayed .a sign of it. I•t is a way the Puritan has of suffering. His emo- tions are like the deep under currents of the sea. CHAPTER XVII If I were writing a navel merely I should try to fill it with merriment and good cheer. I should thrust no sorrow upon the reader save that he might feel for having wasted his time. We have small need of Manu- factured sorrow when, truly, there is so much of the real thing on every side of us. But this book is nothing more or less than a history, and by the same token it cannot be all as I would have wished it. In October fol- lowing the events of the .last chapter, he died, having borne a linger illness with .great fortitude. I, who, had conte there a homeless orphan in a 'basket, and who, with the God-given eloquence of childhood had 'brought then[ to take me to their hearts and the old man that was with me as well, was now the only son left to Elizabeth and David Brower. There were those who called it folly at the lime they took us in, I have heard, but he who shall read this history to the end shall see how that kind of folly may profit one or even mans here in this hard world. It was a gloomy summer for all of ns. The industry and patience with which hope bore her trial, night and day, is the sweetest recollection of icy youth. It brought to her young face a tender soberness of woman- hood—a subtle change • of expression that made her all the more clear to me. Every day, rain or shine, the old doctor had conte to visit his patient sometimes sitting an 'hour anti gazing thoughtfully in his face, occasionally asking a question, or tell a quaint anecdote. Atid then came the end. The sky was cold and grey in the late autnm and the leaves were drift- ed deep in the edge of the woodlands when Flope and I went away to school together at Hillsborough, Uncle Eb drove us to our boarding place in town. When we bade hint good -by and saw him driving away, alone in the wagon, we hardly dared look at each other for the tears in our eyes. David Brower had taken hoard for us at, the house of one Solomon Roll- in—universally known as "Cooky" Rollin; that was one of the first things I learned at the Academy. It seemed that many years ago he had taken bit girl to a dance and offered her, in lieu of supper, cookies that he had thoughtfully brought with him. Thus cheaply he had come to life- long distinction. "You know Rollin's Ancient Hist ory, don't you?" the young ratan ask- ed who sat with me at school that first day. "Have it at home," I answered, "It's in five volumes," "I mean the history of Sol Rollin, the man you are boarding with," said he smiling at•me and then he told the story of the cookies, sitive youth, just out of a country home, the sight of, such violence was appalling. My first tall: with hiin, however, renewed my courage. He had heard I was a good scholar and talked with me in a friendly way about •iny plans. Both Hope and I Were under ']rim in algebra and Latin. I web remember only Ifirst error iseonsti t e d. a his in bra class. I h n ad n Latin sentence. He looked at me, a smile and a sneer crowding each other for .possession of his face. In a loud, jeering tone he cried:,"Mirabile dietu l" I looked at him in ',doubt of 'his meaning. "Mira,bile dicta!" he shouted, his tongue trilling the I corrected niy error.. ""Perfectl". he cried 'again. "Fuer pciohre1 [Next!" He never went further than that with me in the way of correction. My size and my skill as a wrestler, that shortly ensured for 'me the 'respect of the boys, helped me to win the esteem of the master. I learned my lessons and (kept out of mischief. But others of equal proficiency were not so fortunate, He was apt to be hard on a light pian who could be hanndled. without over-exertion. . Uncle Eb came in to see me one day and sat awhile with me in my seat. While he was there the master took a boy by the collar and almost Literally wiped the iblackboard with him. There was a great clatter of heels far a moment, Uncle Etb went away shortly and was at Sol Rollin's when I came to dinner. "Powerful man aint he?" said Uncle Kb. "Rather,'' I said. "Turned that boy into a reg'1•ar horse ' fiddle," he remarked. 'Must 'ave unsot his reason." "Unnecessary)" I said. "Reminded me o' the time 'at Tip Taylor got his tooth pulled," said he. "Shook 'im up so 'at he thought he'd had his neck put out o' ji'nt," Sol Rollin was one of my studies that winter. He was a carpenter by trade and his oddities were new and delightful. He whistled as he worked, Ile whistled as he read, he whistled right merrily as he walked up and down the streets—a short, slight fig- ure with a round boyish face and a fringe of iron .grey hair tinder his chin. The Mlle man had one big pas- sion A''that for getting and saving. The ancient thrift of Itis race hail pinched hint small and narrow as a foot it stunted by a tight shoe. His mind was a bit out of register as we say. His vocabulary was rich and nivid and stimulating. "Somebody broke into the arsenic to -day," he announced, one evening, at the supper table, "The arsenic,' ' said somebody. "what arsenic?" "Why the place where they keep the powder," he answered. "Ohl the arsensal." "Yes, the arsenal," he said, cackling with laughter at his error, :Then he grew serious. "Stole all the ambition out of it,' he added. "You mean ammunition, don't you, Solomon?" his wife inquired. "Certainly," said he, "wasn't that what I said." When he had said a thing that met his own approval Sol Rollin would' cackle most cheerfully and then crack a knuckle by twisting a finger. His laugh was mostly out of register also. It had a sad lack of relevancy. He laughed on principle rather than pro- vocation. Some sort of secret com- edy of which the world knew noth- ing, was passing in his mind; it seemed to have its exits and its en- trances, its villain, its clown and its miser who got all the applause. While working his joy was un- confined, Many a time I have sat and watched hint in his little shop, its window' 'chin with cab -webs. Some- times he would stop whistling and cackle 'heartily as he worked his plane or drew his pencil to the square. I have even seen mini drop his tools and give his undivided attention to laughter. He did not like to be inter- ritpted—he loved his ,own company the best while he was 'Skin' busi- ness:" I went one day when he was singing the two line and their quaint chorus which was all he ever sang in my hearing; which gave him great relief, I have no doubt, when ]fp weary with whistling: Scz I "Dan'l Skinner, I think yer mighty mean To send me up the river, With a sev'n dollar team," Lully, uuy, diddle ully, diddle ally de, Oh, bully, idly, diddle ully, diddle ully. dee. "Mr, Rollin!" I said: "Yes scree,"said he, pausing in the midst of his Chorus to look up at mer 'Where can I get a piece of yellow pine?" "See '11 a minute," he said. Then he continued his sawing and Ibis song, "''Says I Dian Skinner, I think yer might mean'—what 'd' ye want it fer?" he a's'ked stopping abruptly. "Going to make a 'ruler," I an - The principal of the .Hills'borough Academy was a 'big, brawny bache- lor of Scotch descent, with a stern face and cold, grey, glaring eyes. When he stood towering above us on his ,platform in the main room of the building where I sat, there was an alertness in his figure, and a look of responsibility in his face, that remind- ed me of the pictures of Napoleon at Waterloo. He always carried a stout ruler that had ;blistered a shank of every mischievous boy in school. As he stood by the line, that came marching into prayers every morn- ing be would frequently ;pull out a boy, administer a loud whack or two, shake .hint violently and force him into a seat. The day I began my: studies at the Academy I saw .him put two •cients in the wall with the heels of a young ?ran who had 'failed in his algebra. To a bashful and sen- swered. ".‘T' sen' inc up the river with a seven dollar 'team,' " he " went on, pioking out a piece of smooth planed lumber, and handing it to me. "How much is it worth?" I in quired. He whistled _a moment as he sur- veyed it carefully. "'Bout one cent he answered o , seriously. I handed him the money and sat clown awhile to watch dim as he, went on with: his work. It was the cheapest •amusement I 'have yet 'en- joyed: Indeed Sol Rodin 'became a I dissipation, a subtle and seductive habit that grew upon me and on one pretext or another I went every Sat- urday to the shop if I :had not gone home. "'Whitt ye goin' t' be?" He stopped Ilia saw, and looked at me w.a!ting, far an answer. At lalst the time had come when I must declare myself and I did. '+A journalist," I replied, "What's that?" he inquired, curi- ously. 1 "An editor," I said. '"A printer man?" "A .printer man." "Huh!" said he, "Mebbe I'dl give ye a job. Salrey tol' me I'd orter t' 'ave some oards printed, I'll ,want good plain print: Solomon • Rollin, Carpenter 'n iJ'iner, Hillsborough, N,Y.—soun's purty good don't it" "Beautiful" I answered, "I'll git a big lot on 'en," he said. "I'll want one. for Sister Susan 'at's out in Minnesoty—no, I guess I'll send 'er tew, so she can give one away—an' one fer my !brother, Eliph- alet, an' one fer my Aunt Ilirandy. Lc's see—tew •an' one is three an' three and three is six an ` one is seven. 'Then I'll .git a .few struck off fer the folks 'here --,guess they'll think I'm gittin' .up 'n the world." IIe shook and snickered with anti- cipation of the glory of it. Pure van- ity inspired him in the matter and it had no vulgar consideration of :busi- ness policy. He whistled a lively tune as Ile bent to his work again. "Y er sister says ye're a splendid scholar," said he. "Ilear'n 'er brag - gin' 'bout ye 'tother night: she thinks a good deal o' her brother, I can tell . ys. Guess I know what she's .gain' t' give ye Crissnnns. "What's that?" I asked, with a curiosity more youthful than becom- ing. "Don't ye never let on," said he. "Never," said I. "'IIear'n 'em tell," he said, "'twas a gol' lockup, with 'er pictur in it." "Olt. a locket!" I exclaimed. "That's it," he replied, "an' pure gob', too." I turned to go, "Hope she'll grow up a savin wo- man," he remarked. "Traid she won't never he very good t' work." "Why not?" I inquired. He cackled uproariously for a mo- ment, then grew seribus. "Her father's rich," he said, "the richest ratan o' faraway, an I guess she won't never !tee anything t' dew hut set'n sing an' play the melod•iunt," "She can do as she likes," I said He stood a moment looking down as if meditating on the delights he had pictured, "Gall" he exclaimed suddenly. My subject had begun to study me. and I came away to escape further examination. CHAPTER XVIII I ought to say that I have had and shall have to chronicle herein much that would seem to indicate a mighty conceit Of myself. Unfortunately the little word "I" throws a big shadow in this history. It looms up all too frequently in every page for the sign of a modest man. But, indeed, I can not help it, for he was the only ob- server of all there is to tell. Now there is much, for example, in the very marrow" of my history—things that never would have happened, things that never would have been said, but for my lame as a scholar. My learning was of small account. for, it must ,be remembered, I ani writing of a time when any degree of scholarship was counted remarkailile among 'the simple folk of Faraway. Hope took singing lessons 'and sang in church every Sunday. David or Uncle Eb came down for us often of a Saturday .and brought us back before service in the morning. One may find in that town to -day many who will love to tell him of the voice and beauty and sweetness of Hope Brower those days; and of what 'they: expected 'regarding her and Inc. We went out a good deal evenings to concerts, lectures at thechurchesor She college, or to visit some of the many people who invited ,us to their hotness We had a recess of two weeks at the, winter holidays aitd David Brower name after us the day the tern' ended. 'O, the' great happiness 01 that 'day before Christmas• , when we .came fiyin•g' home in the sleigh 'be'hind a new team 'of greys and felt the intoxication .of the frosty .,air, end drove in at dusk after the lamps' were lit and we could see mother and PROFESSIONAL CARDS IVIedical SEAFORTH ` CLINIC , Dr. E. A. McMaster, M B., Gradu- ate of University of Toronto. • J. D. Calquhoun, M.D,, C.M., Grad- uate of Dalhousie %University, Halifax. 'The. Clinic is fully equipped a ui ed with complete and modern x-ray and other up-to-date diagnostic" and thereuptic equipment. Dr, Margaret K. Campbell, M.D., L.A.B.P., Specialist Diseases i ecialist in n Infants and Children, will be at the Clinic last Thursday in every month 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. ! Freewell-baby clinic will 'be held on the second and last Thursday in every month front 1 to g .p.m. 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- pita!, London, England. Special at. tendon to di,seases of the eye, ear, nose ar'l throat. Office and orsidence behind Dominion Bank. Office Phone No, 5; Residence Phone 104, DR. F. J. BURROWS, Office Main St., Seaforth, over Dominion Bank. Hours 2-6 and 7 to 8 p.m. and by ap- pointment. Residence, Goderich St., two doors west of United Church. Phone 46. DR, F. J. R. FORSTER— 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 \nctioneer 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 Auctiot eer for Perth and Huron Counties. Sales Solicited, Terms on Application. Farm Stock, chattels and real estate aroperty. 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 Fere insurance Cfl HEAD OFFICE—SEAFORTH, Ont.. 'OFFICERS President, Thomas Moylan, Sea - forth; Vice President, William, Knox, Lundesboro; Secretary Treasurer, M A. Reid, Seaforth. AGENTS F. McKercher, R.R.1, Dublin; John E, Pepper, R.R,1, Brucefield; E. R. G. Jarmouth, 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 'McGregor, Clinton No. 5; James Connolly, God- erich; Alex MeEwing, Blyth No. 1;. Thomas Moylan, Seaforth No. 5; Wnn. 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. Uncle Kb and Grandma Bisn•ette looking out of the window, and a steaming , dinner on the 'table! I de- clare! it is long since then, but I can not ever think of that time without wiping my ,glasses and taking a mo- ment off. Tip Taylor took the 'horses and we all came in where the ;kettle was, singing on the stove and loving hands helps its opt of our wraps. The supper ,was a merry feast, the like 'of which one may find•only by returning 'Co his boyhood. .Alaokl that is'a long jotirney for someof us. Supper aver and the dishes nut of the way we gathered about the stove with cider and butternuts, (To Be Continued)