HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Seaforth News, 1938-12-01, Page 6PAGE SIX.
THE SEAFORT NEWS
THURSDAY, DECEMBER. 1, 1938,
■
"Well," said Hope. "I've got some "It's from that Livingstone .boy,"
news to tell you—this 'boy is the best said Mrs. Brower, °I've'heard he's
scholar 'of his age in this county. "•
"Thet so?" said David.
Uncle Els stopped his hammer that
was lifted to crack a ;butternut and
pulled his chair close to Hope's, Eliz-
abeth looked at her daughter and
then at me, a smile and a protest in
her fate.
"True as you live,' said Hope.
"The master told me so. He's first in
everything, and in the Town Hall the
other night he spelt everybody
down.,,
"What! In Hillsborough?" 'Uncle
Eb asked incredulously.
'"Yes, in Hills'borou'gh," said Hope,
"and there were doctors and lawyers
and college students, and I don't
know who all in the match."
"Most roe -markable!" said David
Brower.
"Tree-menjiousl" exclaimed !Uncle
Eb.
"I heard about it over at the mills
&'day," said 'Tip Taylor.
'Mere' Dieu!" exclaimed ;Grandma
Bisnette, crossing herself.
Elizabeth Brower was unable to
stem this tide of enthusiasm. I had
tried to stop it, but instantly it had
gone beyond my control. If I could
be ''hurt by praise the mischief had
been done.
"It's very nice, indeed," said she
soberly. 'I do hope it won't make
,him conceited. He should remember
that people do not. always mean what
they say"
"He's too sensible for that,
mother, said David.
"'Shucks!" said Uncle Eb, "he aim'
no fool if he is a good speller—not by
a dum sight!"
"Tip," said David, "you'll find a
box in the sleigh 'at come 'by express.
I wish ye'd .go'n git it."
We all stood looking while Tip
brought in and pried off the top
boards with a hatchet.
"Careful now!" Uncle Eb cautioned
him, "Might spile sumthin'."
The top off, Uncle Eb ,removed a
layer of pasteboard. Then he pulled
out a lot of colored tissue paper, end
under that was a package, wrapped
and tied. Something was written on
it. He held it up and tried to read
the writing.
"Can't see without my spectacles,"
he said, handing it to me,
"For Hope," I read, as I passed it
to her.
"Hoorayl" said Uncle Eb, as he
lifted another, and the last package,
from the box.
"For Mrs. Brower," were the
words I read upon that one.
The strings were cut, the wrappers
torn away, and two big rolls M shiny
silk loosened their coils on the table.
Hope uttered a cry of •delight. A
murmur of surprise and admiration
passed from .one to another. Eliza-
beth lifted a rustling fold and held it
to the lamplight. We passed our
hands over the smooth sheen of the
silk.
"Wail, T swan! said Uncle Eb.
"Rs' like a kitten's earl"
•'"Eggzac'lyl" said David Brower.
Elizabeth lifted the silk and let it
flow to her feet. Then for a little she
looked down, draping it to her skirt
anti moving her foot to make the silk
rustle. For the moment she was
young again.
"David," she said, still looking at
the glory of glossy !b'lac'k that cover-
ed her plain dress.
"Well, mother," he answered.
"Was you fool enough t' ,go'n buy
this stuff .fer me?"
"'No, mother ---it come from New
York City," he said.
"From INew Yosik City?" was the
exclamation of all.
Elizabeth Brower looked thought-
fully at her 'husband.
"Clear from New York City?" she
repeated.
"From New York City," said he,
"Wall, of alt things!" said (Uncle
Eb, looking over his spectacles from
one to another.
the son of a rich man."
" 'Fraid ,he took ,,a great fancy
t' Hope," said David.
"Father," said the girl, "you've no
right to say that. I'rn sure he never
cared a straw for me,"
"I don't think we ought to keep
it," said Mrs, Brower, looking up
though fully,
°'Shticks aed shavin's!" said (Uncle
Eb. "Ye don' .know hut what I had
it sent myself."
Hope went over and put her arms
around his neck.
"Did you, Uncle Eb?" she asked,
"Now you tell me the truth, Uncle
Eb."
"Wouldn't say 't I did," he answer-
ed, "but I don' want 'a see ye go
send•in' uv it `back. Ye dunno who
sent it."
"What'll I do with it?" M•rs, Brow-
er asked, laughing in a• way that
showed a sense of absurdity. "I'd a
been tickled with it thirty ye -ars ago,
,but now—folks 'ud think I was
crazy."
"Never heard such fol de rol," said
Uncle Eb. "If ye move t' the village
it'll come handy t' go t' meeting in."
That seemed to be unanswerable
and conclusive, at least for the time
being, and the silk- was laid away, We
sat talking until late !bedtime, Hope
and I telling of aur studies and of
the many people we had met in
Hillsborough.
We hung up our stockings just as
we had always done, Christmas ere,
and were up betimes in the morning
to find them filled with many simple
but delightful things, and one which
I treasure to this day—the locket and
its picture of which 1 had been sur-
reptitiously informed.
At two o'clock we had a fine din-
ner of roast turkey and chicken pie,
with plenty of good cider, and the
mince pie, of .blessed memory, such
as only a daughter of New England
may dare try to make.
Uncle Eb went up stairs after din-
ner and presently we heard him de-
scending with a slow and heavy foot.
I opened the stair door and there he
stood with the old ;bass vial that had
long lain neglected in a dusty corner
of the attic. 'Many a night I had heard
it groan as the strings loosened, in
the years it had lain on its 'back, help-
less and forgotten, It was like a
dreamer, snoring in this sleep, and
murmuring of that he saw in his
dreams. !Uncle Eb had dusted and
strung it and glued its weaker joints.
He sat down with it, the severe look
of old upon his face, and set the
strings roaring as he tuned them.
Then he brought the sacred treasure
to me and leaned it against my
shoulder.
"There that's a Crissmus present
fer ye, Willie," said he, "It may help
ye t' pass away the time once in a
while."
7 thanked him warmly.
"'S a ,reel 'firs' -class instrument,"
he said. "Ben a rip snorter 'n its day."
He took from his bosom then the
old heart pin of silver that he ,had al-
ways worn of a Sunday,
"Goin' t' give ye thet, too," he said.
"Dunno's ye'll ever care to wear it,
'but I want ye should hey sumthin'
ye can carry'n yer pocket' t' •remem-
ber me Iby."
I did not dare trust myself to
speak, and I sat ,helplessly turning
that relic of a better day in my
fingers.
"It's genuwine silver," said be
proudly.
I'took his old hand in mine and
raised it reverently to my lips,
"Hear'n 'em tell 'bout goin' t' the
village, an' I says 't' myself' 'Uncle
EIb,' says 1, 'we'll hey t' be going.'
'Tain' no place ,fer you in the vill-
age.,
"Holden," said David Bnower,
"don't ye never talk like that ag'in.
Yer just the same as married t' this
family, an' ye can't ever git away
from us."
And the never did unti 1 hishelp
was needed in other and fairer fields,
I am sure, than those of Faravay—
God knows where,
CHAPTER XIX
Tip Taylor was, in the main, a ser-
ious ?minded matt, A cross eye en-
hanced the natural solemnity of his
countenance. He was little given to
talk or laughter ,unless he were on a
Mint, and then he only whispered' Isis
joy. He ,had seen a good bit of the
world. through the peek of this rifle,
and there was something always in
the feel of a gun that 'lifted' him . to
higher moods. And yet one could
reach •a tender snot in him without
the aid of a gun. That winter vaca-
tion I set myself to study things for
!declamation--speciivens of the 'elo-
quence ,of Daniel .Waster and Hen-
ry Clay and !James Otis and Petrick
Henry. I practised them in the (barn,
often, in sight and hearing of the
assembled 'herd and some of those
fiery passages were rather too loud
and threatening. for the peace and
comfort of my audience. The oxen
seemed always to be expecting the
sting of the !bull whip; they stared at
me timidly, tilting their ears every
moment, as if to empty them of •a
heavy load; while the horses snorted
with apprehension. Phis 'haranguing
of the herd had 'been going on a
week or more when Uncle Eb and
I, returning from a distant part of
the farm, heard' a ;great uproar in the
stable. Looking in at a window we
saw Tip Taylor, his back toward as,
extemporizing a speech. He was
pressing his argument with gestures
and the tone of thunder. We listened
a moment, while a worried look
came over the face of 'Uncle Eb.
Tip's words were ,meaningless save
for the secret aspiration they served
to advertise. My old companion
thought Tip had gone crazy, and im-
mediately swung the door and step-
ped in. The orator fell suddenly ,from
his lofty altitude and (became a very
sober booking hired man,
"What's the matter?" 'Uncle Eb
inquired,
"Practicin," said Tip soberly, as he
turned slowly, his face damp and red
with exertion.
"E'er what?" 'Uncle Eb inquired.
"Fer the 'sylun,, I guess," he an-
swered, with a faint smile.
"Ye don' need no more practice,"
Uncle Eb answered, "Looks t' me
as though ye was purty well pre-
pared."
To me there was a 'touch of pathos'
in this show of the deeper things in
Tip's nature that had been 'kindled to
eruption !by my..spouting; He -•would:;
not tome in to dinner that day, pro-
bably from an unfounded fear that
we would nra'ke fun of his flight --a
thing we should have been far from
doing once we understood him.
It was a bitter day of one of the
coldest winters we had ever known.
A shrieking wind .came over the hills,
driving a scud of snow 'before it. The
stock in the stables, we all came in,
soon after dinner, and sat •comfort-
ably by the fire with cider, checkers
and old •sledge. The dismal roar of
the trees and the wind -wall in the
chimney served, only to increase aur
pleasure. It was ^growing dusk when
mother, peening through the sheath
of frost on a window pane, •uttered an
exclamation of surprise.
"Why! who is this at the door?"
said she. "Why! It's a man in a
cutter,"
Father was near the door and the
swung it open quickly.
There stood a horse and cutter, a
man .sitting in it,. heavily muffled.
The ;horse was shivering and the
man sat motionless,
"Hello!" said David Brower in a
loud voice,
He got no answer and ran 'bare-
headed to the sleigh.
"Come, quick, Holden," he called,
"it's Doctor Bigslby."
'4Ve all ran out then, while David
lifted the still figure in his arms.
"In here, quick!" said Elizabeth,
opening 'the door to the parior.
"Mustn't take tin, near the stove." •
We carried 'him into the cold
room and laid him down, and 'David
and I tore his wraps open while the
others ran quickly after snow.
I rubbed it vigorously upon his
face and ears, the 'others meantime
applying it to this feet and arms, that
had been quickly stripped. The doc-
tor stared. at vs curiously and tried to
speak.
'Get ap, Dobbin!" he 'called pres-
ently, andclucked as if urging his
horse. "Get ap, Dobbin! Man'Il thio
'fore ever, we git there,"
We all worked upon 'hiin with
might and main, The white went
slowly out of his face. We lifted ,him
to a sitting ;posture.. Mother and
Hope and Uncle Eb were rubbing Isis
hand and feet,
".Where ani •I?" he inquired,. his
face now 'badly swollen. '
"At David Brower's," said h
Huh?" lie asked, with that kindly
and :familiar grunt of interrogation.
"At David Brower's," I repeated.
"'Well, IT have t' hurry,' said h;
trying feebly to rise, "Man's dyiq'
over—" he hesitated thoughtfully,
"on the 'Plains;"' ire added, looking
around 'at 'us.
Grandma Bisniette brought a lamp.
and held it so the light fell otr,. Ibis
face, He looked from one to another.
He drew one of his hands away and
stared at, it.
"'Some'bbdy 'froze?" he ,asked.
"'Yes" said I.
"Hen! Too 'bad. How'd it 'happen?"
he asked. •
"I don't know." '
"How's the pulse?" he •inquired,
feeling for my wrist. •
I let him ;hold it'in his hand,
"Will you bring me some water in.
a glass?" he inquired, turning to Mrs.
Brower, j'us't as 1 had 'seen 'him do
many a time. Before she came with
the water his head fell forward 'upon,
lits (brea's't, while he -muttered feebly;
I !thought then Ise was dead, ''but pres-
ently he roused himself with a
mighty effort,
"David Brower!" Ihe, called .loudly,
and' trying 'head to rise, "bring the
horse! bring the .'i'orsel Mus' Ibe
goin,' S tell ye. Man's dyin' over—on
the Plains."
He went limp es a rag then. I
could feel his heart leap and struggle
feebly.
'"'Therets a man 'dying here," said
David Brower, in a low tone, "Ye
needn't 'rub no more."
"He's dead," Elizabeth whispered,
holding his hand tenderly, and look-
ing pito ;his half-closed eyes. D1'ien
for a moment she covered her own
with 'her handkerchief, while David,
in a low, calci tone, that showed the
depth, of his ,feeling, told us what to
do,
"Uncle Eb and I watched that night,
while Tip Taylor drove away to
town. The body lay in the patios and
we sat by the stove in the room ad-
joining. In a half whisper we talked
of the sad event of the day,
"Never oughter gone out a day like
this," said Uncle Eb. "Don' take'
much t' freeze an of man."
"Got 'to thinking of what happen-
ed yesterday and forgot the cold," 1
said.
"Bad day to be absent minded,"
whispered Uncle Els, 'as etre rose and
tiptoed to the window and peered
through the frosty panes, "May o'
got faint er sumthin'. Ol' hoss
brought 'int right 'here --been here s'
often with 'int.'"
He took the lantern and went out
a moment. 'Ihe door creaked upon its
frosty hinges when he Opened it.
"Thirty ,below zero," he whispered
as he came in. "Win's gone down a
Allele bit, nreblbe•"
Uncanny noises broke in upon the
stillness of the old house, Its timb-
ers, racked in the mighty grip of the
cold, creaked and settled. Sometimes
there came a sharp, breaking sound,
like the crack of bones,
'If any man oughter go 't' 'Heaven,
he had," said 'Uncle Eh, as he drew
on his 'boots,
"Think 'he's in Heaven?" I asked,
"Hain't a doubt uv it," said he, as
he chewed a moment, preparing for
expectoration.
"What kind of a place, do you
think it is?" I asked.
"For one thing," he said deliberate-
ly, "nabody'll die 'there, 'less he'd
ought to; don't believe there's goin'
t' be any need o' swearin' er quarrel -
in'. To my way o' thin'kin' it'll be a
good deal like Dave Brower's ,farm—
nice, smooth land and 110 stun 011 it,
an' hills and valleys an' white clover
a plenty, an' wheat an' corn higher'n
a man's ,head. No bull thistles, no
hard winters, no narrer contracted
fools; no long faces, an' plenty o'
work. Folks sarin' "How d'y do'
'stid o' 'gond-by,' all the while—corn-
in' 'stid o' goin.' There's .goin t' be
some kind o' fun there. I ain' no
idee what 'tis. Folks like it an' I
kind a' ,believe 'at when God's gin a
thing t' everybody he thinks middlin'
well tse it,"
"Anyhow, it seems a hard thing to
•die," 1 remarked.
"Seems so," he said thoughtfully.
"Jes' like ever'thing else—them 'at
knows much about it don' have a
great deal t'say. Looks 't'me like this:
I cal'ate a man hes on the everidge
ten things his heart is sot on—what
is the word I want—If'
"Treasures?" I suggested.
"Thet's it," said he. "Ev''ry one
hes about ten treasures. Some hey
more—some less. Say one's his
strength, one's this plan, the rest is
them ;he ;loves, an' the more he loves
the 'better 'tis fer him. Wall, they 'be-
gin t' go one by one. Some die,
some turn agin' him. Fin's it hard
t' keep his allowance. When lie's
only nine he's ,lost eggzac',ly one-
tenth uv his dread o' 'dyiu,' Bime
bye he counts op—one-two-three-
four-five—an' thet's al( ther is ,left,
He figgers tit up careful. H'i,s strength
is ,gone, his plan's a failure, meblbe,
an' this one's dead an' thet one's
cteacd, an' !'other one better the. Thcfn
's 'bout 'half ways with him. ' Lf he
lives 'till the ten treasures is all gone,
God gives him one more -tie's death.
An' the can swap bhet off an' git back
all he's lost, Then he 'begins t' think
•
it's a pasty ,dim', good 'thing, after
Party good thing, after affil," he
peated, gaping as he spoke.
He began nodding shortly, and
soon he went asleep in his chair,
CHAPTER XX
We went back to our work shortly,
the sweetness and the (bitterness of
life fresh in our •remenvbrance. When
we 'caste back„ "'hook an' line," for
another vacation, the fields were
aglow with "color, and the roads
where Dr,. Bigsby had feltt'•he sting
of :death that winter day were now
over drifted, with meadow -music and
the smell of clover. I had creditably
taken examination for college, where
I was to begin my course in the fall,
with a sdholarshiipe Hope had :made
remarkable progress' in music and
was soon going to Ogdensburg .for
instruction,
A year had 'gone, 'since {led Feary
had 'cauti'oned me about falling in
dove. 'I had ,kept enough of my :heart
about vie "to do business with," 'but
I had continued to feel an, uncomfort-
able absence in the reion of it.
Young men et 't-Ii'llsborough—many
of whom, I' felt sure, had a smarter
look than I --had bid stuiblbornly for
her favor. T wondered, often, it did
not turn her 'head—this tr?bu•te of rus-
tic admiration. But she seemed to :be
all unconscious of its cause and went
about her work with small conceit of
herself. Many a time they had tried
to take .her from my arm at the
church ,door—a good-natured phase
of youthful rivalry there in those
days --but she had always said, laugh-
ingly, "No thank you," ,and clung all
the closer to me. Nov'', Jed Feary .had
no knowledge of the worry it gave
me, or of the peril it suggested. I
knew that, if I felt free to tell him
all, he would give ole other counsel,
I was now seventeen and she a bit
older, and had I not heard of many
young men •and women who had
been engaged—aye, even married—at
that age? Well, as it happened, a day
before she left us, to go, to her work
in Ogdensburg, where she was to
live with her uncle, I made an end
of delay. I considered carefully what
a man ought to say, in the circum-
stances, and I thought I had near an
accurate notion, 'We were in the gar-
den ---together — the playground of
our childhood.
"Hope, I have a secret to tell'you,'
I said.
x"'A secret," she exclaimed eagerly.
"I love secrets."
"A great secret," I repeated, as I
felt my face ;burning.
"Why—it must be something aw-
ful!"
"Not very," I stammered. Having
missed my cue from the beginning, I
was now utterly confused,
"William!" she exclaimed, "what is
the matter of you."
"I—I am in love," said I, very
awkwardly.
"Is that all?" she answered, a trace
of humor in her tone. "I 'thought it
was bad news."
I stooped to pick a rose and hand-
ed it to her,
"Well," she remarked soberly, but
smiling a little, as she lifted the rose
to her lips, 'is it anyone I 'know,"
I felt it was going 'badly with me,
hut caught a sudden inspiration.
"You have never seen 'her," I said.
If she had suspected the truth I
had turned the tables on her, and
now sh e was guessing. A quick
change came into her face, and, for a
moment, it gave me confidence.
"Is she 'pretty?" she asked very
seriously as she dropped the flower
and looked down crushing it beneath
her foot.
"She is very' 'beautiful—it is you I
love, Hope."
A flood of color came into her
cheeks then, as she stood a moment
looking down at the flower .in silence.
"I shall keep your secret," she said
tenderly, and hesitatingly as she
spoke, "and when, you are through
college—and you are older—and I am
older—and, you love me .as you do
now•—I hope—I shall love you, too
—as—I do now."
Her . lips were trembling as she
gave me that sweet assurance;—dearer
to me—far clearer than all else I re-
member of that golden •time—and
tears were coursing down her cheeks.
For myself I was in a worse plight
of emotion. I daresay she rememb-
ered also the look of my face in that
moment.
"Do not speak of it again," she
said, as we walked away together On
the shorn sod of the orchard meadow,
now sown with apple 'blossoms, "until
we are old, and, if you never speak
again, I shall know you—you -d'o not
love me any .longer."
The dinner horn sounded, We
turned and walked slowly back.
"Do I honk all right?" she asked,
turning her face to me and smiling
sweetly.
"All right," 'I said. "Nolbody would
know that anyone loved you—except
for your beauty and that one tear
track 011 your check,"
She wiped it away as she laughed.
"Mother knows anyway," she said,
"anti she has given me good advice.
all.
e=
PROFESSIONAL CARDS
Medical
SEAFORTH CLINIC',.
Dr, E. A. McMaster, - M,B., Gradu-
ate of University of Toronto,
J. D.' Colquh'oun, M.D., 'C.M., Grad -
elate of 'Dalhousie (University, Halifax.
The Clinic is, fully equipped with
complete ,and modern x-ray Wand other
up -'to -date diagnostic' .and thereuptid
equipment.
D'r. Margaret IC.' 'Campbell, M,D.,
L.A.B.P., Speciali'st in Diseases in
Infants and Children, will he 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 and
Threat,' will be at the Clinic the first
Tuesday in every month •from 4 to
6 p.rn.
Free well -baby clinic will be held
on the second and last Thursday in
every month from 1 to Q pan.
W. C. S'PROAT, M.D., F.A.C.S.
Surgery
Phone 90-W. Office John St., Seaforth
DR. H. HUGH ROSS, Physician
and Surgeon Late of Landon Hos.
pita], London, England. Special at.
tention to diseases of the eye, ear,
nose and throat, Office and aesidence
behind Dominion Bank. Office Phone
No. 5; Residence Phone ;04.
DR. F. 3. BURROWS, Office Main
St., Seaforth, over Dominion Bank.
Hours 2-5 and •7 to 8 p.m. and by ap-
pointment,, Residence, Goderich St.,
two doors west of United Church.
Phone 4'6,
DR, F. J. R. FO'RSTER— 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-
ta1s, 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
3n'aderate and satisfaction. guaranteed
F. W. AHRENS, Licensed Aurltiot
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 & RETD
REAL ESTATE
AND INSURANCE AGENCY
(Successors to James Watson)
MAIN ST., SEAFORTR, ONT,
All kinds of Insurance risks effect-
ed at lowest rates in .First -Class
Companies.
THE McKILLOP
Mutual Fire insurance Cit
HEAD OFFICE—SEAFORTH, Ont.
OFFICERS -
President, Thomas Moylan, Sea -
forth; Viae President, William Knox,
Londesboro; Secretary Treasurer, M
A. Reid, Seaforth.
AGENTS.
F. McKercher, R.R.il, Dublin; John.
E. Pepper, R.R.1, Bnucefield; E. R. G,
Jarmouth, Brodhagen; James Watt,.
Blyth; C. F. Hewitt, Kincardine;
Wm. Yeo, Holmesville.
DIRECTORS
Alex. Broadfoot, Seaforth No. 3;
James Sholdice, Walton; Wan. Knox,
Londesboro; George Leon hardt,
Bornholm No. 1; Frank McGregor,
Clinton No. 5; James Connolly, God-
erich; Alex McEwing, Blyth No. 1;
Thomas Moylan, S•eaforth. No. 5;
Wm. R. Archibald, Sea'forth 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.
Wait!" she added, stopping and turn-
ing to rne, "Your eyes are wet!"
3 felt for any handkerchief.
"Take mine," she said.
Elder Whitmarsh was at the house
and they were all sitting •down to
dinner as we came in,
"Hello!" said Unc'le Eb, "Here's a
good lookin' couple. We've got a
chicken pie an' a dhotis' minister ler
,dinner an' both good. Take yer pew
nex' t' the minister," he added as he
held the chair for me.
(To be continued.)
Notice to Creditors, 3 wks, for ;'2.50.
4