Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1879-05-27
CHATTER }.

CHATTER :.
II was Saturday afternoon, and il was
summer tiuc. There could be no more
excellent reasons given than these why
Mr.. Bowkcr should have engaged himself
En- tha blis,ful works of idlcuc>s. GAY in
q bclchcrhaudkerchicf, which displayedit-
selma H0vcr-Gke knototredandy yellowat
hi,throat:i i'm trowssr>o of molc,kjH, ,thcmovc
prominent parts whereof were patched
with snow-vhitcpa,cheS; inan un,;archcd
shirt of something Ike canvas: a billy
cock hat. uucouScratjyc as 90 form, and
pair of huge boots, the tongues of which
lolled with a thirsty and a gaping look
over the dusty drynes~ of the lIcc>; Mr..
Bowker Law upon his back ON @ green
bank and listened 20 the twittcring of the
birds. and smoked his pipe, and was at
peace with all mankind. Hi, coat was
rolled up and placed beneath his head for
a pillow: the cool wind played about his
face, and bore 20 HIM the scent of many
green and Towering things; the brook
mumured opposite. and beyond the brook
the hay meadow dozed in the sunshine.
Beyond the hay meadow, right away on
the verge Of the landscape, certain pit
frames were visible. and certain mounds
of mine refuse, and two or three tall
chimnevs. They smoked 50 lazily that
afternoon. and looked so slim and delicate
in the distance, that Mr.. Bowker, though
he knew them well, had visions Of Z
cluster Of giants lying in rough semi
circle. smoking enormously long and thin
cigars. For the day was so peaceful and
full of rest there. where Mr. Bowker lay
In shadow. that II seemed impossible to
fancy that anything was working. Mr..
Bowker was by nature of q literary turn.
He was by force of circumstances coal
miner. He was a thorough, good, whole
hearted fellow too, as most of his tribe
are, despite the roughnesS Of their exterior.
Mr.. Bowl ker had no love for solitude as a
rule, but that day he stunned IN. fellows
He had a fine palate for beer, yet that
afternoon the Rosy Lass had opened her
arms to him in vain The Rosy Lass
was public house in those parts, and at
that hour, as Mr.. Bowker knew, many Of
his chums sat in solemn circle round the
kitchen, holding high debate on ''whum-
mers" and game uns, and other holi-
/ dav matters. Mr. Bowkcr himself was
keen pigeon-fyer, and his word was OF
authority on the breeding of game ones,
Vet he willingly held aloot from his COM
panions, and aired himself in solitude.
The plain truth about the matter was that
William was in love.
The place has changed sadly since !
knew il, but a score of years ago there
were few lovelier spots in England than
that in which Mr.. Bowker lay that sum-
mer Saturday. lis beauty was of a
very gentle type, and had no dazzling
surprises in it. To walk straight out OF
that circle of ashes and smoke and fire.
which men call the Black Country. into
the green lanes and tranquil fields which
Ilav about it, was ike walking out of the
| bowling noises Of Ludgate Hill on a week
dav. into the sacred quiet of st. Pauls
was ike going home to see ones silver
haired, tranquil-mirded mother after a
wears grind in the city; was ike a quiet
dream in the midst of tevered fancies. Ii
was like none Of these things TO Mr..
Bowker. for he had never seen Ludgate,
land never knew his mother, and had never
been troubled with any fevered fancieS
Yet he felt the benediction and the rest OF
it quite as completely perhaps, as he
would have done if he had been able tc
find a thousand SMILES for his enjoyment
He was well-made Young fellow at
this time, with a look OF sturdy manli-
ness and rough goOd-nature. Not love
itself could quench the native humor o.
ms soul, and he grinned behind his pipe
| in a serio-comic deriSion of his own for.
lornness.
| "Its a rum thing-luy," said he Il
himself. "It's 4 sort o complaint like