Urbana union. [volume] (Urbana, Ohio) 1862-1872, 1870-12-14
I john PARSONS "
STORY OF AN ENGLISH PERUVIAN.

I, John Parsons, ferFyman, B. river
Little Barton, Yorkshire, haven't lived
! fifty-eight years in the world without
making up my mind to something. And
what I've come to Is this; for merry easy
careless life, try ferry. In fine wealth
er, it's unexpeetionally jolly; when it's
wet with thick coat and a little tobac-
co, so long as the damp don't make for
your joints, you can easily keep up your
spirits. As for seeing the world com
! fOrtably from where you stand, why, sir,
there's nothing like it, take them over
slOWly and not too many at q time, so I
can put my finger on each one when I
see them again, and know that's you.'
It's astonishing the number of faces I've
seen between the two banks of the river.
| When / think of it, shut my eyes and
say to myself. Multiply it by tens, by
hundreds, by thousands, by millions,
and there you've the size of the world as
neatly set before you as possible, John
| Parsons I tell you, sir, when the
thought comes across me after market
day. it's almost too much for my mind.
On an evening generally have the
river to myself We keep as still as
| possible, partly because I get drowsy,
/ and partly because / ldon't like to remind
| the creatures unpleasantly that Pm the
| only man there. Tbs birds often hop
down on the seat beside me, but / never
move or make a remark, and I've no
doubt they take it kindly on their part,
! poor things. On MOONLIGHT nights the
river, with its white water-lillies, is a
perfect show I make bold to say there
isn't sight to equal it in all England or
on any of the cOntinents-no, nor at the
exhibition. I even forget my pipe and find
myself upright in the boat at dawn. IF
you doubt my word, sir, come to Little
Barton, Yorkshire, ask for John Par
sons, and you shall have the ferry for
one night, along with the profits, and
try for yourself
That chimney you see through the
trees belOngs.tO Mrs. Beresford's room at
the Hall: Tt hasn't smoked since she
died. Mr.. Beresford foTebade it. don't
see much of the Hall, except when it
goes once fortnight to market at Bar
ton Common, thFee-quarters of a mile
straight through the wood, and then turn
to your left. The RectoEy crosses much
oftener. Stand just where you are, and
put your head to one side, and you'll
observe ared-tiled house-that's it.
Little Miss Eleanor used to run down
from the Hall with her dolls, and beg
me to lift her into the boat and tell her
story. I had only two stories I could
tell; one was Tom the Tavern-keeper
and his Daughter jane She liked the
first best, and when / came to $50 little
Jane straightway put the shilling in her
pocket and ran away h0me; she clap
ped her hands, and begged to hear it
over again. But one day, just as was
going to begin, John Parsons, said she,
drawing herself Upf nurse SAYS you're a
vulgar man and tell vulgar stories, and
Pm not to listen 20 them again. They
aren't for little lady like me-
On Sundays Miss Eleanor came down
without her dolls. I used to tuck her
white frock round her, that she might
not dirty it, and give her my coat to sit
upon. She was always full OF news
what sash she wore at church, and how
Master Hugh made faces at her Then
she Wouldgro suddenly serious. Shall
I tell you about the book pve been read
ing, John Parsons p she said. It's a
Sunday book.
And she bent forward with her chin on
her hand, and looked gravely at me-
4 remembered what she said, word for
word.
There's a river, John Parsons,1 she
began, like this river, only it's called
the River Of Death. And there on that
bank'-she pointed to 1t with her little
hand-ithere,s a valley so dark, that
it's called the Valley of the Shadow of
Death. But she added solemnly, shak-
ing her head, there's no ferry to take
you across-nO feTryman like John Par
sons to row you over to the other side.'
By degrees Miss EIenor came less fre-
quently. l missed her dTeadfully, and
looked out for her dress through the
trees.
Mrs. Parker, said ], one day, to the
lady's-maid, ,-she was a hard woman to
speak tots your young lady i'll, that
she never comes down to the ferry?'
John Parsons answered she, sharp
ly, you're fool. Do you think it like
ly that Miss Eleanor viii be allowed to
to talk to the ferryman? What atmanners
and education would she gain by it, do
you suppose2 ? You forget the difference
Of station
$50, ma'am,' said I, Il 'musn' thope
to see Miss Eleanor again p
Why answered she. Il don't say she
won't run down on holiday to shake
hands with you. But it was only yes
terday her papa punished her for crying
about it, and was very angry with me
for allowing her to come so often.'
John Parsons said I to myself, as
soon as Mrs. ParkerS long SKIRT had dis
appeared, you are a fool, and there's no
doubt of it. It WASH, t your place to love
little Miss Eleanor. You did forget the
difference of station
tried my best not to watch for her;
but for all that felt had lost her, and
it was a great loss to me. Every now
and then, heard of her through the
servants. She had a new governess,
and was looking rather pale; Master
Hugh from the Rectory rode with her.
she was going to school. The next news
was, she was gone. The difference of
station was hard thing to bear, forshe
never came down to bid me gOOd-by.
Three months after I was smoking my
pipe with Jim Slaughters, when heard
her merry laugh, and there she stood on
the bank. She had grown little, and
her froek was longer; but her blue eyes
were Just the same, and her, voice as
sWee5 eF
II couldn't help running to see you,
John Parsons she said; but I mustn't
stay. Hadn't we pleasant days togeth-
er? Little Jane will always come into
my head when Pm doing my sums
i've forgotten the bit after a pint of beer
for dad, please Some day pll beg
papa to let me come down to hearth
tGood-by, dear John Parsons
! tGood-by, Miss Eleanor said 1, and
sba vvos goiia. Presently her face peep