The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1874-04-02
TIFFIN TRIBUNE.

prom the AIdine for APRIL
The Story Of Jock Willis
ton.
"SOme of our folks go over to the
Island 10 meeting to-day; you'd like
to go along, maybe ?'' queried our
host at breakfast, on the morning of
our second Sunday at L.
"To the Island? Delightful Let
US go, of course p'
"It's a good piece Of walking from
the laadiug % taeschuTch you know
"How faT?D
"AbOut two miles-up bill and
down dale.1
"Only two miles! A mere moth
ing" we chOrused, smiling at each
other as we remembered how impass-
able two miles of our native pave
ment might have seemed on that
mid-summer day But here, with
the woOing note of the sea in our ears
and the strength of the salt air ting
ling through our veins, what might
we not do and dare
So light was the breeze, as we stood
waiting on the beach, that we scarce
ly felt It strike our raised hands vet
the little boat which came to take us
off caught the soft breath in her sails
and waited US across the channel gen.
tly and noiselessly as q spirit.
need not pause to describe the
walk that followed, although we re-
membeTed it long afterward with
keen delight. The undulating slopes
rObed with spruce and fir OF marvel
GUS symmetry and color; the gray
outcrop OF limestone rock rending the
crisp carpet of short grass, and dry
brown moss spread along the road
side; the half-score little coves of
wondEOus beauty, where fleets of
small boats, like white-winged water
fowl rocked lazily at anchor, and the
blue water FLASHED softly upon tiny
islets, whose quaint roek-work was
yelled and garlsnded by creeping
vines and nOdding harebells and
far off-the line where sky and ocean
met, embracing all with suggestions
of the infinite harmony all these
then almost unprofaned, are grown
familiar in these later years, even to
most careless eyes.
4AC SAAAAAls 1llC Will
odd cupOla and slowly swinging bell,
came in sight at length, browning the
summit of a gentle elevation. En-
tering, we took our places among the
wOrshipers.
The greater part of the simple dis
course have long since forgotten, but
the closing words, spoken in the low
musical voice of the preacher, as he
bent above the pulpit rail, sound in
my memory still:
Hear, then, once more, the words
of the text: THAT was the true Light
which lighteth every man that COM
eth into the world Sometimes, my
brethren, we look for the brightness
of that rising. Even the eyes that
watch for the morning may scarcely
discern night from dawn. Yet there
is no soul but some time-somewhere
stands in the shining of that Light.
Every sacrifice of self, every victory
of love, is but its broken reflection.
God forbid that any one of you, hav-
ing felt the divine radtance;should go
away again into the outer darkness ~
A-4syasH=E,ae -saEgy Egytfsc-feF~entb bfcss-7
ing asked, and, passing out with the
congregation, we turned aside into
MONDAY intermission. Strolling
about among the quiet groves, many
of which, especially the resting-places
of little children, were strewed ten
derby with bright-hued shells and
pebbles, my attention was arrested by
the contrast between the low, plainly
carved stones around me, and tall,
slender shaft of the puress italian
v,arhla v-fc a1lt1
ite pedestal at little distance be-
yond. Drawing nearer, l read in
beautifully embossed characters:
In memory of
JOCK WILLISTON,
Who came to himself, and his
Fathers House,
On Christmas Day, 1910.
They that sat IN darkness, sdtU q great
light
The brief epitapb, beneath whose
quaint phrase some unusual signifi-
canoe seemed concealed, aroused in
me q strong desire to know more of
the quiet sleeper below. The wish
must have been unconsciously be-
trayed in my countenance, for a
wrinkled, kindly-faced old lady, who
sat upon a bench near by, with an
open lunch basket, and two rosy
grandchildren at her knee, suddenly
beckOned me to place beside her,
saying, as if in answer to q spoken
question
"The words do seem odd for a
grave-stone, maiam, but indeed the
Lords dealin's with poor Jock were
past our findin' out. You never heard
tell of him, Judge ?p
"No,-but have never been here
before.u
''Eikely ,enough,-and yet every
ehild.on the coast could tell you the
story. 1t was in the Portland papers,
too-but-bless mel that must IA
been nigh twenty years ago. No
wonder you wouldn't remember
The old DANES eyes frightened, and
she paused, as if to please herself with
the anticipation of an interested lis
tener.
"You knew him, then this Jock, as
you call him ?'' hinted gently.
'Knew him ?" she answered with a
musing smile. "I dressed him the
night he was boTn,-a strOng-limbed,
hearty babe, with bright, black eyes,
and hair as dark and curly as Jamie's
here. That was Christmas Eve, and
just one week afterward, on New
Years Day, the brig Sea GuH found
cred off the coast of Newfoundland,
with Oap'n Williston and all hismen,
and so the poor baby never saw his
fathers face.
"Poor little Mis-. Williston! can
see just how she looked, lyin' there
day after day, as white and helpless
as broken day-lily, with that little
brown head tucked against her cheek;
twas only the baby that kept her
alive. She'd make me hold him to
the light dozen times a day. YOU'RE
sure his eyes won't turn any lighter,
Mis-. Dawson p she'd say. You see
the cap'n had a coal-black eye. And
then again, He grows, Mis-. Dawson ?
You thiEE he's very well, don't you -
in a voice that wistful, that / had a
master fight with myself to keep the
water out of my eyes, instead of an
swering her up right cheerful, well
I should think he did, the little cap'n
And growin'? Look at that arm
Why he'll be liftin' his mother off
the bed before she knows it p Then
she'd smile little pale smile, and put
her two arms round my neck, poor
baby herself.
"Well, the time past on, and little
Jock grew up, as brave and handsome
q lad as you could wish to see. 1t was
real sunshine to my eyes to see him
walkin' alongside of his mother,
drawin' himself up, and keepin' step
with her like a grown man. So ten
der of her, too, he was, leayin' all his
mates for her il she was alone, and
forever lsyin' out what he meant to
do for her when he YVES q man. And
what with bein' so fond and proud of
him, she got to look, barrin' her black
dress, almost the same as when the
cap'n was alive. All, mel I've
thought q many times since how mer-
ciful it is in the Lord to let US see so
little ways ahead. In the best of
times, we're only ships in fog, and
have to steer by compass.
"The summer Jock was twelve years
old, was amazin' siekly all along the
coast. I was nigh beat out nursin'
'Bijah Porter's wife through the ty-
kr..1 L \