HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1921-09-30, Page 71
`Teat. o
By
Frwees Redeem Barnett
Toronto—William Briggs.
Stet g6s: �Pean.tt#a.. IIn mastitis Ping
apps. at4o and a Palos. 41tN
ortwoDR. MILE' £ i-PAiltl i!M IAs
'mud the pain .Is gone. , Guaranteed sail
nisi flute. $riot, 30c.
Bold in eleafarth_by
t E. vis LCH, Phos a
i He's an American, isn't bee The
loaf heir who had 'to besought for
I high and low—prjnci-sally low, T un -
f deretand."
, �'he beef tea was excellently sav-
, cry, the fire was warty,. end relief
from two weeks of pain left a sort
I of Nirvana of peace. Rarely had the
1 duke passed a more delightfully en-
tertaining morning. There was a
richness in the Temple Barholm sit-
uation as described 1n detail by Mrs.
Braddle, which filled' him with de-
light. His regret that he was not a
writing person -intensified itself. Am-
ericans itad not appeared ,'upon the
horizon in Miss Mitford'e time, or
in Mise Austen's,. or in the Brontes'
the type not having entirely detach-
ed itself from that of the red Indian.
It struck him, however, that Miss
Austen might have done the best
work with tthis affair if she had sur-
vived beyond her period. Her finely
demure and sly sense of humor
would 'have seen and seized upon
its opportunities. Stark moorland
life shad not encouraged humor in
the Brontes, and Village .patronage
had not roused .in Miss Mitford a
sense of ironic contrasts. Yes, Jane
Austen would have done it best.
• That the story should be related by
Mrs. !Braddle gave it extraordinary
flavor. No man or woman of his
btvn class could have given such a
recounting, or revealed so many facets
of this jewel of entertainment. He
and those like him could have seen
the thing only from their own amus-
ed, outraged, bewildered, or cynically
disgusted point of view. Mrs.
Braddle sew it as the villagers saw
it-- ci
ex ted carica r
s sec ell ba
eful
Y
P
of undue lavishness from "a chap as
had nivver had brass before an'
wants to chuck it away for brag's
sake," or somewhat alarmed at the
possible neglecting of customs and
privileges by a person ignorant of
memorial benefactions. She saw it
as the servants saw it—secretly dis-
dainful, outwardly respectful, wait-
ing to discover whether the sacrifice
of •professional distinction would 'be
balanced by liberties permitted and
lavishness of remuneration and
largess. She saw it also from her
own point of view—that of a respect-
able cottage dweller whose great -
great -grandfather had been born in
a black-andLwhite timbered house in
a green lane, and who knew what
were "gentry ways" and what na-
ture of being could never even re-
motely approach the assumption of
them. She had seen Tembarom more
than once, and summed him up by
no means ill-naturcdly.
"He's not such a bad-lookin' chap.
He is na short -legged or turn -up -
nosed, an' that's summat. He con
stride along, an' he looks healthy
enow for aw he's thin. A thin chap
niWer looks as common as a fat un.
If he wur pudgy, it ud be a lot more
agen him."
"I think, perhaps," amiably re-
marked the duke, sipping his beef
tea, "that you had better not call
him a 'chap; Braddle. The late
Mr. Temple Barholm was never re-
ferred to as a 'chap' exactly, was
ire?"
Mrs. Braddle gave vent to a sort
of internal -sounding chuckle. She
had not meant to be impertinent, and
she knew her charge was aware that
she had hat, and that he was neither
being lofty or severe with her.
"Eh, I'd 'a' loiked to ha' heard
somebody do it when he was nigh,"
she said. "Happen I'd better be
ntoindin' ma P's an' Q's a bit store.
But that's what this uh is, yore
Grace. Re's a `chap' out an' out. An'
theer's some as is aayin' he's not a bad
sort of a chap either. There's -lots
o' funny stories about hitn in' Temple
Barhohn village. He goes in to tie
cottages now an' then, an' though a
fool could see he does na know his
place, nor other people's, he's down-
reet open.handed. An' he maks foak
laugh. He took a lot o' New York
papers.wi' big pictures in 'em to lit-
tle Tummas Hibblethwaite. An' wot
does tha think he did one rainy day?
He walks in to. the owd Dibdens'
cottage, an' sits down betwixt 'ent
as they sit one each side o' th' f're,
an' he tells 'em they've got to cheer
him up a bit beeps he's got nought
to do. An' he shows 'em til' picter-
papers, too, an' tells 'em about New
York, an' he ends up wi' singin' 'em
a comic song. They were frightened
out o' their wits at first, but some-
how he got over 'em, an' made 'em
laugh their owe heads nigh off."
Her charge laid his spoon down,
and his shrewd, lined face assumed
a new expression of interest.
"Did he! Did he, indeed!" he ex-
claimed. "Good Lord! what an ex-
hilarating person! I meet go and
see him. Perhaps he'd make me
laugh my `owd head nigh off.' Wlhat
a sensation!"
There was really immense color
in the anecdotes •and in the aide
views accompanying ,them; the rout-
ing out of her obscurity of the iso-
lated, dependent spinster relative, for
instance. Delicious! The man was
either desperate with loneliness or he
was one of the rough -diamond bene-
factors favored by novelists, in
which latter ease he -would not be so
entertaining. Pure self-interest
caused the Duke of Stone quite un-
reservedly to Shope that he was an-
guished by the unaccustomedness of
his surroundings, and was ready to
pour himself forth to any one who
would listen. There would be orig-
inality in such a situation, and one
could draw forth revelations worth
forming an audience to, He himself
had thought that the volte-face such
circumstances demanded would sure-
ly leave a man staring at things for-
eign enough to bore him. This, in-
deed, had been one of hie cherished
theories; but the only man he had
ever encountered who had become a
sort of mr�illionaire between one day
and anoiliRr had been an appalling
i'lfork !ilea rau, Wile hid ao
eactraor4brery luck with diamond.
brei- Mines in h Afrlose end he
'beep s op)y dmale With pScWtaratio
}n4 the delight of spending mon With both hands, While he fl!<urethrol
slapped an the hook persona who six
' weeks. before would have kicked him
for doing it. c
Thep man did not appear' to be ex:
cited. The duke mentally rocked
with gleeful appretdetion of certain
(Continued from last week.)
CHAPTER XXIII.
The man who in all England was
most deeply submerged in deadly
boredom was, the old Duke of Stone
said with wearied finelity, bimmelf.
He had been a sinful young manof
finished taste in 1820• be had cultivat-
ed these tastes, which were for liter-
ature and art and divers other things,
in the most richly alluring foreign
capitals until finding himself becom-
ing an equally sinful and finished
elderly man, he'had decided to marry.
After the birth of her four daughters,
his wife had died and left them on
his hands. Developing at that time
a tendency to rheumatic gout and a
daily increasing realization of the
fact that the resources of a poor duke-
dom may be hgpelessly depleted by an
expensive youth passed brilliantly in
Vienna, Paris, Berlin, and London,
when it was endurable, he found it
expedient to give up what he consid-
ered the necessities of life and to face
existence in the country in England.
It is not imperative that one should
enter into detail. There was much,
and it covered years during which
his four daughters grew up and he
"grew down," as he called it. If his
temper had originally been a bad one,
it would doubtless have become un-
• bearable; as he had been born
an
amiable
er n
p ao he merely sank into
the boredom which threatens extinc-
tion. His girls bored him, his neigh-
bors bored him, Stone Hover bored
him, Lancashire bored him, England
had always bored him except at ab-
normal moments.
"I read a great deal, I walk when I
can," this he wrote once to a friend
in Rome. "When I am too stiff with
rheumatic gout, I drive myself about
in a pony chaise and feel like an aunt
in a Bath chair. I have so far escap-
ed the actual chair itself. It perpetua-
ally rains here, I may mention, so I
don't get out often. You who gallop
on white roads in the sunshine and
hear Ita::.in voices and vowels, figure
to yours •If your friend trundelling
through ,'amp, lead -colored Lanca-
shire lana and being addressed in
the Lance.. hire dialect. But so am I
driven by necessity that. I listen to it
gratefully. I want to hear village
news from villagers. I have become
a grasip. It is a wonderful thing to
be a gossip It assists one to get
through ont's declining years. Do
not wait so long as I did before be-
coming one. Beginin your roseate
middle age." '
An attack of gout more severe than
usual had confined him to his room
for some time after the arrival of
the new owner of Temple Barholm.
He had, in fact, been so far indis-
posed that a week or two had passed
before he had heard of him. His
favorite nurse had been chosen by
him, because she was a comfortable
village woman whom he had taught
to lay aside her proper awe and talk
to him about her own affairs and her
neighbors when he was in the mood
to listen. She spoke the broadest
possible dialect,—he liked dialect,
having learned much in his youth
from mellow -eyed Neapolitan and
Tuscan girls,—and she had never
been near a hospital, but had been
trained by the bedsides of her chil-
dren and neighbors.
"If I were .4 writing person, she
would become literature, impinging
upon Miss i, itford's tales of 'Our
Village,' Miss Austen's varieties, and
the young Bronte woman's 'Wuther-
ing Heights.' Mon Dieu! what a
resource it would be to be a writing
person!" he wrote to the Roman
friend.
To his daughters he said:
"She brings back my tenderest
youth. When she pokes the fire in
the twilight and lumbers about the
room, making me comfortable, I lie
in my bed and watch the flames
dancing on the ceiling and feel as if
I were six and had the measles. She
tucks me in, my dears—she tucks me
in, I assure you. Sometimes I feel
it quite possible that she will bend
•ver and kiss me."
She had tucked him in luxuriously
in his arm -chair by the fire on the
first day of his convalescence, and
as she gave him his. tray, with his
beef tea and toast, he saw that she
contained anecdotal information of
interest which tactful encouragement
would cause to flow.
"Now that I am well enough to be
entertained, Braddle," he said, "tell
me what has been happening."
"A graidely lot, yore Grace," she
answered; "but not somuch i' Stone Barholm. as i' Temple He's
eoomi"
Then the duke vaguely recalled
rumors he had heard sometime be-
fore his indisposition.
"The new Mr. Temple Barholm?
Everybody knows
that in Canada there are more
Templeton's
Rheumatic Capsules
Sold than all other Rheumatic
Remedies combined fol. Rheu-
matism, Neuritis, Neuralgia,
Sciati Ic e, Lilmbago, etc.
Mas.y doctors prescribe them,
most drag/jute sea them. Write
for free trial Templeton, Toronto.
Sold by E, Umbacb' in Walton by
W. 0. Nast.
°� Husband's; Wilt
has tl er ze Seafoll'
a $• syle: "Ad#erd-ka helps; .
wee. tee rags pp t stomach and
y stomach is W 'tY MINUTF .
wonky beyoa g'eatest expectation..'
Adler-1-ks acts on BOTH upper end
lower bowel removing foul mattes
which poisoned atenutc,h. Brings out
all ggaasnses aad sour, decaying food,
EXCELLENT for ,chronic concisp-a-
tion. Guards against appendlcitla.
Adler-i-ke remove/ matter you never
thou ht was in your system and
which may have been poisoning you
for months, PI, . Uaebigh,. Druggist,
*legs Mra Straddle detailed. She
gave, of coarse, Burrill's version of
the, brief interview outside the dinne
ing-room door when. Mies •Aliciars
Mates in the household [tad been made
clear to him. But the duke, being e
man endowed with a subtle sense of
shades, was wholly enlightened as, to
the inner meaning of Burrlll's mas-
ter.
Now, that was good," htl said to
himself, -almost chuckling. "By
the Lords the man [night have been
a gentleman."
When to all this wee added the
story of the friend or poor relative,
or what not, who was supposed to be
not quodte rest i' th' yed," and was
taken care of like a prince, in com-
plete isolation, attended by a valet,
visited and cheeped up by his bene-
factor, he felt that a boon had in-
deed been beebowed upon shim. 'It
waa a nineteenth century "Mysteries
of Udolpho" in embryo, though too
greatly diluted by the fact that
though the stranger wee seen :by no
one, the new Temple Barholm made
no secret of him.
• If he had only made a secret of
him, the whole thing would have been
complete. There was of course in
the situation a discouraging sugges-
tion that Temple Barholm might turn
out to be merely the ordinary noble
character bestowing boons.
"I will burn a little candle to the
Virgin And offer up prayers that he
may not. That sort ofthing would
have no cachet whatever, and would
only depress me," thought his still
sufficiently sinful Grace.
h n
"•WIC Waddle, do you
think b
I
shall
be able� m
to take a drive again?"
he asked his nurse.
Braddle was not prepared to say up-
on her own responsibility, but the
doctor would tell him when he came
in that afternoon.
"1 feel astonishingly well, consid-
ering the sharpness of the attack,"
her patient said. "Our little talk has
quite stimulated me. When 1 go
out,"—there was a gleam in the eye
he raised to hers,—"I am going to
call at Temple Barholm."
"I knowcd the would," she com-
mented with maternal familiarity. "1
dunnot believe tha could keep away."
And through the rest of the morn-
ing, as he sat and gazed into the tiro,
she observed that he several times
chuckled gently and rubbed his deli-
cate, chill, swollen knuckled hands
together.
A few weeks later there were some
warm days, and his Grace chose to
go out in his pony carriage. Much
as he detested the suggestion of "the
aunt in the Bath chair," he had de-
cided that he found the low, informal
vehicle, more entertaining than ! a
more imposing one, and the' despera-
tion of his desire to be enerte.i ud
can be comprehended only by those
who have known its parallel. If he
seas not in some way amused, he
found himself whirling, with rheu-
matic gout and seventy years, among
recollections of vivid pictures better
hung in galleries with closed doors.
It was always possible to stop the
Pony carriage to look at views --bits
of landscape caught at by vision
through trees or under their spread-
ing branches, or at the end of little
green -hedged lanes apparently adorn-
ed with cottages, or farmhouses with
ricks and barn -yards and pig -pens de-
signed for the benefit of Morland
and other painters of rusticity. He
could also slacken the pony's pace
and draw up by roadsides where soli-
tary nien sat by piles of stone, which
they broke at leisure with hammers
as though they were cracking nuts.
He had spent many an agreeable half
hour in talk with a roadmender who
could be led into -conversation and was
left elated by an extra shilling. As
in years long past he had sat under
chestnut -trees in the Apennines and
shared the black bread and sour wine
of a peasant, so in these days he fre-
quently would have been glad to sit
under a hedge and eat bread .and
cheese with a good fellow who did'
not know him and whose summing
up of the domestic- habits and needs
of "th' warkin' mon" or the amiabili-
ties or degeneracies of the gentry
would be expressed, figuratively
speaking, in thoughts .and words of
one syllable. The pony, however,
could not take him very far afield,
and one could not lunch on the grass
with a stone -breaker well within
reach of one's own castle without an
air of eccentricity which he no more
chose
to assume than he would have
chosen to wear long hair and a flow-
ing necktie. Also, rsheurnatic gout
had not hovered about the days in
the Apennines. He did not, it might
be remarked, desire to enter into
conversation with his humble fellow-
man from altruistic motives. He did
it because there was always a chance
more or lose. that he would be amus-
ed. He might hear of little tragedies
or comedies, he much -preferred the
comedies, --.and he often learned new
words or phrases of dialect interest-
ingly allied to pure Anglo-Saxon.
When this last occurred, he entered
them in a notebook he kept in his
library. He sometimes pretended to
himself that he was going to write
a book on dialects; but he knew that
he was a dilettante sort of creature
end would really never do it. The
pretense, however, was a sort of
asset. in dire moments during rains
nr foggy weather when he felt
twinges and had read bill his head
/NE You Cannot Buy
New Eyes
Dal yen can Pram•[. a
£Ieu.BeanlryC.ndnNa
UQ yallisda
e Murine Eye Reseda
Night end Noising."
nese yew NrsMale, Oast
Writs for Free gyeGare Book.
Ewer tre.raw tee* a Pat cue tient Celeste
ached, he had whiled that lie had net
eaten all ilia eaacs:at the .first course
of life's feast, that. he had formed a
habit or so wasickl might have sur-
vived and helped tarn w eke out even
as easy -chair existence through the
last courses. He did net find conso-
lation in the • use of the palliative
adjective as applied to hiineelf. A
neatly cynical sense of humor pre-
vented it. He knew he had always
been an entirely selfish man and
that he was entirely selfish still, and
was not revoltingly fretful and dom-
ineering only because be was consti-
tutionally .unureitable.
He was, however, amiably obstinate
and was accustomed to getting his
own way in most •bhurgs. On this
day of his outing be insisted on driv-
ing himself in the face of arguments
to the contrary. Re was so fixed in
his intention that his daughters and
Mrs. Braddle were obliged to admit
themselves overpowered,
"Nonsense! Nonsense!" he pro-
tested when they besought him to
allow himself to be driven by a groom.
"The pony is a fat thing only suited
to a Bath chair. He does not need
driving. He doesn't we when he is
driven. He frequently lies down and
puts his cheek on his hand and goes
to sleep, and I am obliged to wait
until he wakes up."
But, papa, dear," Lady Edith
said, "your poor .hands are not very
strong. And he mightrun away and
kill you. Please do be reasonable!"
"My dear girl," he answered, "if
he runs, I shall run after him and
kill him when I catch him. George,"
-
ihe called to the green holding the
plump pony's head, "tell her lady-
ship what this little beast's name is."
"The Indolent Apprentice, your
Grace," the groom answered, touch-
ing his hat and suppressing a grin.
"I called him that a month ago,"
said the duke. "Hog:trih would have
depicted all sorts r,f evil ends for
him. Three weeksices w
s when I was
in bed being fed by Braddle with a
spoon, I could have eierun hint my-
self. •Let George !.slaw me on a
horse if you like, but he must keep
out of my sight. Half a mile behind
will I.
He got into the phaeton, conceal-
ing his twinges with determination,
and drove down the avenue with a
fine air, sitting ere.- and smiling.
Indoor existence had become unen-
durable, and the spring was filling
the 4.1weoIthe -spring,"
" be 'orotund
!ta"6ians : "t am a •boat
h. I am quite hone. g
besa a welting )arson, I ails here
matte verses overt' yeas in, April and 1
Rent them to magazines&
would hive besot returns$ o me
The Indolent Apprentice awes, 1t is
trite, fat, though comely, and he Iva%
aka entirely deeerring of bis same.
Idke fsis Grace of stone, however,
be bad seen other and livelier days,
and now and then be was besot by
recollections. He Was still a rather
high, though slow, stepper --the lat-
ter from fixed preference. He had
once stepped fast, as well as with a
spirited gaet. During sets master's
indisposition he had atood in bis loose
box and professed such harmlessness
that he had not been annoyed by be-
ing token out for exercise as regularly
as he might have been. He lead
champed his oats and listened to the
repartee of the stable -.boys, and he
had, perhaps, felt the coming of the
spring when the cuckoo insisted upon
it with thrilling mellowness aeeosa
the green sweeps of the park •land.
(Continued on page 6)
Pain` Jndictatioa
of interference Wids fisto fader Hatt ett this ItpA It
�d # t11Aeq Pf 7:0; statsg- stat ROOtinu4 cats... itA.eti lirthooico
Csrtlo8$
San.• and.
humanity agree
relief hone
pais shogid be {
fire first step in
the treatment
ofR .los distic. Hae shish S ' 1�va� i
�rGligratic. Backache, Sciatic and Ovation n10•u ,ckr w0
mg R_ 1.,,‘,,‘..,...§-
- 1
Aii,HPainPil/s.
Dr. Miles' Anti.Pn
end the pain is gone. Guaranteed Side and Susan. NCO:.
Sold in Seaforth by
E. UMEACH► Phan.,
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