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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Seaforth News, 1939-03-09, Page 6PAGE SIX THE SEAFORTH NEWS THURSDAY, IVI•ARCH 9, 1939 `!!..,?11 14, 0441'a" . r.�'�•s9 `:'�i°,"A?Yb i't F: "Be a putty 'costly. funeral," he an- swered thoughtfully. 'Ye'd he t' dig a hole deeper'n Tupper's dingle.". 'Couldn't you ' ive them away?" I inquired. "Wall," said he, helping- himself, to a chew of tobacco, "we've tried thet. Gin 'em t' everybody'we know but there ain't folks enough -there's suchs a slew ce them biler . We could give one t" ev ry man, woman an' child in Faraway ail' hev ;eno tgh left t' fill an acre lot, Dan Perry dru•v in t'other day with a double buggy. We gin hint one fer his own fam ly, It was heavy t' carry an' he didn' seem t' like the looks ay it someway. Then 1 asked him if he wouldn't like one fer his girl. 'She ai'nt married," says 'he. 'She will be,some time,' gys I, 'take it along,' so he put'.in another. 'You''You'vegot a sister over n the turnpike hain't ye says L 'Yes,' says he, `Wall,' I says, 'don' want a hev her .feel slighted.' 'She - ott't know 'bout my Kevin' 'em,' say he, lookin' as if he'd hed enough. is she will," I says, 'she'll hear u it an' , me'bbee make a fuss.' Then we piled in an- other. 'Look here,' says after that, 'there's yer 'brother ill un there 'bove you. Take one along fer him.' 'No,' he says, 'I don't tell ev'ry body, "'but Bill an' I ain't on good terms. We ain't spoke fer more'n a ear.' "Knew he. was line" Uncle Eb added with a laugh."'I'd seen hint." talkie' with Bill a d y er two before '`Whew!" he whirled as he looked at his big silver wa ch. "I declare it's mos' one o'clock. Tl ey's jes' one oth- er piece o' business t' come before this meetin.' Double or single, want. ye t' both promise n e t' be hunt Criss- 10116."Th "Bet you told me that—that you said. loved another girl," she said, her el -"Wall, I swan! is thet so?" be an- 'bow leaning on the mantel, her eyes swered. "Guess I won't fool away looking down soberly. any more time here'n 'bed. If you "When? Where?" I asked. childern'11 go in t' other room I'll slip "In Mrs. Fuller's parlor." into my trousers an' then ye'll hear "Hope," 1 said, "yeti misunderstood me talk some conversation." me:- I. meant you." "Beats the world!" he. continued, She came toward me, then, looking coming iii presently, buttoning his up into my eyes. 1 started to embrace suspenders. "1 thought Inas' likely' her but ehe caught my hands and held ye'd hitch up t'gether sante time. them apart and carne close to me. 'Taint often ye can and a pair s' well "Did you say that you meant me? matched. The same style an' gaited she asked in a whisper. jest about alike. When ye goin' t' git "I did." married?" "Why did you not tell me that "She hasn't named the day," I said. night?" "Sooner the better," said Uncle Eb "Because you would not listen to as he drew on his coat and sat down, me and we were interrupted." "'/'sed t' be so t' when a young couple "Well if I loved a girl," she said hed set up'n held each other's /tan's a 'I'd make her listen," kw night they was ready fer the mi- ") would have done that but Mrs. sister. \\ ish't ye could itx it fer 'boat Fuller saved you." Crissmue time. by lingo! T'hey's other "You might have written." elle sags things goin' t' happen then. S'pose gested in a tone of injury. yer happy now ye can stand a little "I did." had news. I've got t' tell ye --David's "And the letter never carte --just as been losin' money. Hain't never wrote I feared." ye 'bout it—not a word—'cause I did - "She looked very sober and n't know hew 't was corrin' out." thoughtful then. "You know our un' "Wall ye know that Ory Barker— •derstanding that day in the garden," runs a hardware store in Miglcyville she added. "If curl did not ask inc —he sold him a patent right. Figger- again I was to know you—you did not ed an' argued night an' day fer love me any longer. That was long, more'n three weeks.. It was a new long ago." fangled wash boiler. David he thought "I never loved any ,girl but you," I he see a chance t' put out agents an' said. "I Ione you now, Hope," and snake a great deal o' money. It did that is enough—I love you so there is look jest as easy as slidin' down hill nothing else for me. Yon are 'dearer but when we come t' slide—wall, we than my life, It was the thought of found out we was at the bottom o' the you that made me brave in battle. T hill 'etid n' the top an' it want reel wish I could be as brave here, But I good slidin'. He paid five thousand demand that you surrender—I shall dollars fer the right t' ten counties. give you no quarter now." Then byme bye Barker be wanted "I wish I knew," she said, "whether hint t' go security fer fifteen hundred ---whether you really love me or not?" tilers thet he was heviti made, I for "Don't you believe me, Hope?" David he hedn't'better go in no deep - "Yes I believe you," she said, "but er but Barker, he promised big things —but you might not know your own an' seemed t' be such a 'nice man 'at heart." hilly David he up 'n ,done it. Wall • "It longs for you," l said. "it he's lied 'em t'' pay fer an' the fact is keeps me thinking of you always. it costs s' much t' sell 'em it eats up Once it was so easy to be happy; all the profits." since you have been away it has seem- "Looks like a swindle." I said indig- ed as if there were no longer any nantly. light in the world or any pleasure. It "No." said Uncle Eb, 'tain't no has trade me a slave. I did not know swindle. Barker thought he hed a that love was such a mighty thing." gran' good thing. He got fooled an' "Love is no Cupid—he is a giant," the fool complaint is very ketchin'. she said, her voice trembling with Got it myself years ago an' I've been emotion as mine had trembled, "I doctorin' ter it ever Bence." tried to forget and he crushed me tut- The <tory of David's undoing hurt der his feet as if to punish me." us sorely. He had gone the way of She was near to crying now, but most men who left the farm late in she shut her lips firmly and kept back life with unsatisfied ambition. the tears. God grant me I may never ••'They shall never want for ane - forget the look in her eyes that mom- thing, so long as I have my health," ent. She came closer to me. Our lips I said• touched; my arms held her tightly, "I have four hundred dollars in the "I have waited long for this," I said, bank," said Hope, "and shall give —"the happiest moment of my life! them every cent of it." I thought I had lost you." "rain' nuthin' t' worry over," said "What a foolish man," she whisper- U'scle Eb. "If I don' ever lose ntore'n ed. 'I have loved you for years and a little money I shan't feel terrible years and you-- you could not see it. bad. We're all young yit. Got =reel I believe now—" a million dollars wuth a' good health She hesitated a moment, her eyes so right here 'n this roost. So well, I'm close to my cheek I could feel the 'shamed .uv it! Man's more decent if beat of their long lashes. he's a leetle bit sickly, An' that there 'That God made you for me," she girl 13ill's agreed 1' marry ye! Why! added. 'Druther hev her 'n this hull city o' "Love is God's helper," I said, "He New York." made us for each other." "So had I," was my answer. "I thank Him for it—I do love you "\Vail, you an' no. luckier 'n she is so," she whispered. —not a hit," he added. "A good man's The rest is the old, -old story" They .better 'n a gol' mine—ev'ry timet' that have not 'lived it are to be pitied. "Whoknows," said Hope. "He may When we sat down at length she be president some day." told me what I had long suspected, "Tiler's one thing I hate," Uncle that Mrs. Fuller wished her to marry Eh continued. "That's the idee c' hev- young Livingstone. in' the woodshed an' barn an' garret "But for Uncle Eb," she added, "I full o' them infernal wash biters. Ye think I should have done so --for I can't take no decent care uv a hose had given up all hope of you." there 'n the stable—they're so piled "Good old Uncle Eb!" I said, up. One uv 'em tumbled down top o' "Let's go and tell him," inc t'other day. "Druther "Would a He was sound asleep when we en- been a panther. Matte me s' mad I tered his room but woke as I lit the took a club an' knocked that tiler into gas. a cocked hat. 'Tain't right! I'm sick o' 'What's the matter?" he whispered. the sight ov 'em." lifting. his head. "They'll make a greed bonfire some i Congratulate us,". I said, "We're, day," said Hope. engaged. "Don't believe they'd burn," be an - 'Het ye conquered her?" he inquir- swered sorrowfully, ''they're tin." "Couldn't we bury 'em?" 1 suggest - We promised. "Now childern," said he. 'S, time t' go t' bed. B'lieve ye'd stan' there swappin' kisses 'till ye was knee sprung if 1 didn't tell ye t' quit." Hope came and put her arms ashcan his neck, fondly, and 'kissed hint good night. "Did Bill prance right up like a man?" he asked, his hand upon her shoulder. "Did very well," said she, smiling, "for a man with a wooden leg." 1.7nrle.E'b sank into a chair, laugh- ing heartily, and pounding his knee. It seemed he had told her that I was coming home with a wooden leg/ "That is the reason I held yam arm," she said, "'i was expecting to hear it squeak every moment as we left the depot. But when I saw that you walk- ed so naturally I knew Uncle Eb had been trying to fool me." "Party good sort of a lover, ain't he?" said he after we were done laughing. "He wouldn't take no for an ans- wer," she answered. "He was alwuss a gritty cuss," said Uncle Eb wiping his ryes with a big red handkerchief as he rose to go. "l'e'd oughter be mighty happy an' ye will, too -their ail' no doubt uv it—not a bit. Trouble with most young folks is they wan' t' fly teiv high, these days. If they'd only fly dos enough t' the ground so they could alwnss touch one foot. they'd be all right. Glad ye ain't thet kind," We were off early on the boat—as fine a summer morning as ever dawn- ed, What with the grandeur of the scenery and the sublimity of our happiness it was a delightful journey we had that day. I felt the peace and beauty of the fields, the majesty of the mirrored cliffs and mountains but the fair iace of her I loved was enough for me, Most of the day Uncle Feb sat near us and 1 remem- ber a woman evangelist came and took a' seat 'beside hila, awhile, talk- ing volubly of the scene. "My friend," said she presently, 'are you a Christian?" " 'Fore I answer I'll hev t' tell ye a story," 'said Uncle Eb. "I reeollec' a man by the name o' Ranney over'n Vermont—he was a pious man. Got into an argyment an' a feller slapped him in the face. Ranney turned t'other an' the feller •kep' a slappin' hot 'n heavy. It was jee' like strappin' a razor fer half a minnit. Then Ran- ney- sailed in—gin hint the wust lickin' he ever hed. 'I declare,' says another man, af- ter 'twas all over, 'I thought you was a Christian.' "'Am up to a sert'in ,p'int, says he. 'Can't go tew fur not 'n these parts— men are tem' powerful. 'Twon't do 'less ye wan' t' die sudden. When he begun poundin' uv me I see I'watf't eggzac'ly prepared.' " 'Fraid 's a good deal Chet way with most 'uv' us. 'We're Christians up to a cert'in p'int. Fer one thing, I think if a man'll stan' still an' see hint - self knocked into the flex' world lie's leetle Yew good fer this." The good lady began to preach and argue. For an hour Uncle I<b sat listening unable to ;get in a word. When, at last, she left hint he came to es a look of relief in his face, "1 li'lieve," said he, "if !Baiaam'e ass hed been rode' by a woman he never 'd hev spoke."' "Why not?" I inquired. "Never 'd hev hed a chance," Uncle Eh added. 'We were two weeks at home with mother and- fattier and Uncle Fab. It was a delightful season of rest in which. Hope and I went aver the sloping roads of Faraway and walked in the fields and saw the harvesting. She had appointed .Christmas day for oitr 'Wedding and I was not to go again to the war, for now my first ditty was 'to my own people, If God prospered me they were a'11 to come tQ livewith us in town and, though. slow to promise, I could see it gave them comfort to ;know we were to be for them ever a staff and refuge. . And 'the evening before we cantle back 'to town Jed Feary was with us and Uncle Eb played his Hate and sang the songs that had been the de- light of our childhood, The old poet read these lines writ ten in memory of old times in Fara way and of Hope's girlhood. The red was in the door an' the blare was in the sky: There was music ,in the meadow, there was dancing in the rye; An' 1 heard a voice a calling to the 1iocks o' Faraway An' its echo in the wooded hills -Co' day! Co' day! Co' day! ed smiling. ''Love has conquered us both," 1 ed. fair was she—my lady love—an' lithe as the willow tree, An' aye my heart remembers well her parting words t' rte. An' I was sad as a' beggar -man but she was blithe an' gay An' I think o' her as I call the Blocks Co' day! Co' day! Co' day! Her cheek, they stole the clover's red, her lips the odored air, ' :\n' the glow o' the morning sunlight she took away in her hair; Her voice had the meadow music, her form an' her laughing eye Have taken the blue o' the heavens an' the grace o' the bending rye. And there wai some truth in the warning. He was writing when I came in. A womaq'sat beside hint. talking. An inimenle ham lay on the marble top of the steam radiator; a 'basket' of eggs eat on the (floor near 'Mr. Greel- My love has robbed the summer day —the field, the sky, the dell, She' has taken their treasures with her, she has taken my heart -as well; An' if ever, in the further fields, her feet should go astray May she hear the good 'God calling her Co' day! Co day! Co' day! ey's desk. All sorts ,of merchandise were salt to the Tribune thosd days, for notice, and sold at auction to members of the staff, by Mr. Duna. "Yes, yes, Madame, go : on, I, ,hear yoti,"-said the great editor, as 'his pea flew' across the white page. ' She aslked him then for a loan of money. He continued writing but, presently, his left hand clove into his trousers pocicet coming sup full of bills. . i "Take what you want," said he, holding it. toward her, ''Fand please go for I am very busy," Whereupon she helped herself liberally and went a- way. Seeing me, Mr. Greeley came and shook my hand warmly and praised me for a good ,eoldier•. "Going down town," he said in a moment, , drawing on Ms big white overcoat; "walk along with me won't you?" . • We crossed the park, he leading Me with long strides. As we •walked he told how he had been suffering from brain fever. Passing St, Pa'uFs church yard he 'nulled the iron pickets with his hand as if to try the 'feel of \them. Many turned to stare at him curious- ly , He asked rte, soon, if I would care to do a certain thing for the Tri- bune, stopping, to look in at a show window, as I answered hint. I waited while he did his errand at a Broadway shop; then, we came back to the office. 'The publisher was in Mr. •Greeley's roost. "\'Vhere's my ham, Dave?" said the editor as he looked at the slab of marble where the ham had lain, "Don't know for sure," said the publisher, "'it's probably up at the house of the — editor by this time," "What did you go 'n 'give it to him for?" drawled Mr. Greeley in a tone of irreparable injury, 1'I wanted that ham for myself." "I didn't give it to him," said the publisher. "He came and helped him- self. Said he supposed it was sent in for notice." "The infernal theif 1" Mr. 'Greeley piped with a . violent gesture. "I'll swear! if I didn't keep my shirt but- toned tight they'd have that, too." The hart was a serious obstacle in the way of my business and it went over until evening. But that and litre incidents made me to know tate man as I have never seen hint pictured --a boy grown old apd grey, pushing the power of manhood with the' of youth. I resumed work on the Tribune that week, My first assignment was a mass. meeting in a big temporary structure—then called a wigwam—ov- er in Brooklyn. My political life be- gan that day and all by an odd chance. The wigwam was. crowded to the doors. The audience had been waiting half an hour for the speaker. The chairman had been doing his best to kill time but had ,run out of ammu- nition. He sat down to wait; ab awk- ward silence had begun. The +crowd was stamping and whistling and clap- ping with impatience. As I walked down the centre aisle, to the report- er's table, they seemed to mistake me for the speaker. Instantly a great up- roar began. It grew louder every step I took. I began to wonder and then to fear the truth. As I neared the stage the chairman came forward beckoning to rte. I went to the flight of steps leading asp to that higher level of distinguished citizens and halted, not knowing just what to do. He came and leaned over and whisp- ered down at me. 1 remember he was; red in the face and damp •with • per- spiration, "What is your name?" he inquired. "Brower," said I in a whisper. A look of relief came into his face and I am sure a look of anxiety came into mine. He had taken the centre of the stage before I could stop him. "Ladies and gentlemen,' said he, "I ant glad to inform you that 'Gen- eral Brower has at last arrived." T remembered then 'there was a General Brower in the army who was also a power ire ,politics. In the storm of applause that foll- owed this announcement, I beckoned him to the edge of the ,platform again. I was nearer a condition of mental painic than 1 have ever known since that day. "1 am not General Brower," I whispered. "What!" said he in amazement, "I am not General 'Brower," I said. "Great heavens!" 'he whispered, covering his mouth with ,his hand and looking very thoughtful, "You'll have to stake a speech anyway—there's net CHAPTER XLI I got a warm welcome on Monkey Hill. 'John Trumbull, came to dine with us at the chalet the evening of my arrival. McClingan had become editor.' in • chief of a new daily news- paper. Since the war began Mr. Force had found ample and remuner- ative occupation writing the Obituar- ies of Distinguished 'Persons. He sat between Trumbull and McClingan at table and told again of the time he had introduced the late Daniel Web- ster to the people of his native town, Reciting a passage of the immortal Senator he tipped his beer into the lap of McClingan. He •ceased talking and sought pardon. "It is nothing, Force—nothing," said the Scotchman, with great dig- nity, as he wiped his trousers and coat. "You will pardon rile if I say that I had rather be drenched in beer than soaked in recollections." "That's all right." said Mr. Opper, handing hien a new napkin. "Yes, in the midst of such afflic- tion I should call it excellent fun," McClingan added. 'If you ever die. Force, I will preach the sermon with- out charge." "On what text?" the obituary edit- or inquired. " 'There remaineth therefore, a rest for the people of God,' " quoth Mc- Clingan solemnly. "Hebrews. fourth chapter and ninth verse." • "If I •continue to live with you I shall need it," said Force. "And if I endure to the end," said McClingan, "I shall have excellent Christian discipline; I shall .lee/ like opening my mouth and snaking a loud noise." • McClingan changed his garments and then, came into my room and sat with us awhile after dinner. "One needs ear lappers and a'rub- ber coat at that table," said he. "And a chest protector," I suggest- ed remembering the finger of Force. "I shall he leaving'here soon, Brow- er," said McClingan as he lit a cigar. "T\"here shall you go?" I asked. "To my own house." "Going to hire a 'housekeeper?" "Going to marry one," said he. "That's' funny," I said. "We're all to be married—every Iran of us." "By .jewel" said McClingan, "this is a time for congratulation. God save us and grant for us all the best worn - an in the world." CHAPTER X•LII For every man he knew and loved ilr. •Greeley had a kindness that filled hint to the finger tips. When 'I re- turned .he smote me on the breast -an unfailing mark of his favor—and doubled my salary. '"T'f he ever smites you on the breast," McClingan had .once said •to me, turn the other side, 'for, man, your .fortune is made," PROFESSIONAL CARDS Medical SEAFORTH CLINIC Dr E. A. McMaster, M.B., Gradu- ate of University of Toronto, 5. D. Golquhcun, M.D., C,M.,..Grad- uate of 'Dalhonsie'Univea-sits, Halifax, The Clinic is fully equipped 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 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, Fenster, Specialist in PAGE SIX . 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 1 to 2 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- pital, London, England. Special at tention to diseases of the eye, ear, nose and throat, Office and residence behind Dominion Bank. Office Phone No. 5; 'Residence Phone 104. DR. F. J. 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 46, DR. F. J. R. FORSTER— Eye Ear, Nose and Throat. Graduate in Medicine, University of Toronto 1597. 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 eaclf 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. AHRFENS, 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 INSURA.NCE AGENCY (Successors to James Watson) MAIN ST., SEAFORTH, ONT. All kinds of Insurance risks effect- ed at lowest rates in First -Class Companies. escape." I could see no way out of it and, after a Moment's hesitation, ascended the platform, tookoff' my overcoat and made a speech. Fortunately the issue was one with which I had been long familiar. I told theta chow 1 lac] THE McKILLOP Mutual Fire Insurance C HEAD OFFICE—SEAFORTH, Ont. OFFI CERS President, Thomas Moylan, Sea - forth; Vice President, William Knox, Londesboro; Secretary Treasurer, M A. Reid, Seaforth. AGENTS F. MoKercher, 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, Holmesvilie. DIRECTORS Alex. Broadfoot, Seaforth No, 3; James Sholdice, Walton; Wm. Knox, Londesboro; ' George Leonhardt,. Bornholm No. 1; Frank MoGregor, Clintt.n No, 5; James Connolly, God- erich; Alex. 'McEwing, Blyth No. 1; Thomas Moylan, 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. been trapped. The story put the audi- ence in good humor and they helped me along with very generous ap- plause. And so began my career tit politics which has brought me more honor than I deserved although I know it has not been wholly without' value to niy country. It enabled me to repay in part the kindness of my for- nner chief at a time when he was sad- ly in need of friends.. I remember meeting him in Washington a day of that exciting campaign of '72t I was then in Congress. (To be continued.)