The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-05-26
THE PRESS.
From All the Year Round.]
Mr.. BOWker's COurtship.
CHAPTER I.

Bowker should have engaged himself in the
blissful work of idleness. Gay in belcher
handkerchief, which displayed itself in
fower-like knot of red and yellow at his
throat: in trousers of moleskin, the more
prominent part whereof were patched with
snow-white patches; in an unstarched
shirt of something like canvas; billycock
hat, utterly unconservative as to form, and
a pair of huge boots, the tongues of which
lolled with thirst and a gaping look over
the dusty dryness of the laces; Mr.. Bowker
lay upon his back on a green bank and
listened to the twittering of the birds, and
smoked his pipe, and was at peace with all
mankind. His coat was rolled up and
placed beneath his head for pillow; the
cool wind played about his face, and bore
to him the scent of many green and flower
ing things; the brook murmured 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 chimneys. They smoked so
laizily that afternoon, and looked so slim and
delicate in the distance, that Mr.. Bowker,
though he knew them well, had visions of
cluster of giants lying in rough semicircle,
smoking enormously long cigars. For the day
was so peaceful and so full of rest there,
seemed impossible to fancy that anything
was working. Mr.. Bowker was by nature of
a literary turn. He was by force of circum-
stances, a coal-miner He was a thoroughly
good, whole-hearted fellow, too, as most of
his tribe are, despite the roughness of their
exterior. Mr.. Bowker had no love for soli-
tude, as rule, but that day he Stunned
his fellows. He had tender palate for
beer, yet that afternoon the Rosy Lass had
cd har 10 In in tho Pncxr
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 tgame uns," and other holiday
matters. Mr.. Bowker himself was keen
pigeon-fyer, and his word was of authority
on the breeding of game ones, yet he will
lingly held aloof from his companions, and
aired himself in solitude. The plain truth
about the matter was that William was in
love.
The place has changed sadly since l knew
it, but score of years ago there were few
lovelier spots in England than that in which
Mr.. Bowker lay that summer Saturday. Its
beauty was of very gentle type, and had
no dazzling surprises in it. Towalk straight
out of that circle of ashes and fire, which
men call the Black country, into the green
lanes and tranquil fields which lay about it,
was Iihe WdlhlilS OuI VI tle uoWlllS NolSco
of Ludgate hill on week day in the sacred
quiet of st. Paul's; was like going home to
see ones silver-haired, tranquil-minded
mother after years grind in the city; was
like quiet dream in the midst of feyered
fancies. 1t was like none of these things to
MIR. Bowker, for he had never seen Ludgate,
and never knew his mother, and had never
been troubled with any fevered fancies. Yet
he felt the benediction and the rest Of it as
completely, perhaps, as he would have done
it he had been able to find a thousand
SMILES for his enjoyment.
He was well made young fellow at this
time, with look of sturdy manliness and
rough good nature. Not love itself could
quench the native humor of his soul, and he
grinned behind his pipe in serio-comic deris-
ion of his own forlornness.
cts a rum thing-luv," said he to HIM
self. cts sort O. complaint like, sum-
mat arter the measles an the hewpin' cuff,
sort O. thing mans got to have some
day or another. Pm got it bad an no mis-
take. l suppose Tn got it about as bad as
a mon ever had it, But Lord bless thee
Willy-yum, it's sickness as wo't kill no.
body. But it wot do for me to be lyin here
all AFTERNOON a doin' nothin. l mote go
whum empty-honded I'll talk some flowers
VII me.
Herewith Mr., Bowker arose and tying
the sleeves of his coat loosely about his neck
strayed along the lanes, and got together in
the course of the next hour, a presentable
nosegay of late May early dog-roses and
white fox-gloves. These, backed by dozen
or so prodigious ferns, he bound about with
rushes from the brook. Loves purposed
offering was some three feet in hight, and
wide and dense enough to screen the bearer
from recognition from the side on which he
carried it. 1t is the Black country fashion
to do everything on large scale, and Mr.
RowlSer might have passed, behind his bou-
quet, as one of the supernumeraries in the
army which marched against Macbeth from
Birnam Wood. Straying up Dead Mans
Lane, he climbed Jacobs Ladder, and
passed merrily Stevenson's hills, encountering
here and there friend and friendly salute.
The nosegay made it evident to the meanest
observer that the bearer was "goin'
courtin'," and William endured good deal
of more or less pointed chaff as he took his
homeward way. This was inevitable, and
he was, of course prepared for it, and gener-
ally gave good deal better than he got.
"Hello, Willy-yum," said one, par exam
pie, ga cove I'D think as yo' took the second
O. June for May day."
"Why, so l did," responded William,
cheerfully, cam Tn been getherin' some
green stuff for yo to play the fule in"
This was quite home thrust of wit after
the manner of the district. They who
looked on at the brief tournament guffawed
right joyfully.
''Yo' had him theer, Willy-yum," quoth
one youth approvingly.
"Not me-" returned William, compla-
Gently. wouldn't have him nowheer, not
at a gift"
Leaving the discounted foe behind, Mr..
Bowker pursued his way and was encount-
cred in the region of Scott's Hole by a GER
tain retail bone-dealer and merchant in
scrap-iron. The retail dealer had humor-
GUS eye and moist, full mouth, and bore
other evidence in his quantity carved coun-
tenance of the power of comic perception.
Afternoon, Willy-yum," said the retail
dealer.
Afternoon, Samyouwell," returned Mr.
Bowker, with droll-eyed and expectant
gravity.
"Goin' to plant them pretty things in the
back garden, Willy-yum" asked the retail
dealer, with show of friendly interest.
NO" said Mr.. Bowker, placidly; 81
gathered 'em to see how many fules nd AK
me what got 'em for''
Afternoon, Willy-yum," said the retail
dealer.
AFTERNOON, Samyouwell," returned Mr..
Bowker, and lit fresh pipe with feelings of
strong self-approval.
mr. DOWker uVeu on faTaQlSe street ana
had manifold opportunities for conference
with the object of his desires, who lived
next door, and was, indeed, no other than
the daughter of the retail merchant of bone
and iron. The genial war of wit and word
in which these two INDUCED made no sort
of difference in their friendship, unless in
deed, it tended to cement it. Paradise street.
in Williams day, was something of slum,
and the fields which lay in front of his
house, where the railway station now stands
were frowzy and neglected, and produced
no other crop than that of brick-bats and of
hulking ends of timber. Here and there
broken and deserted shed, built for some
forgotten purpose, went its way to ruin
slowly, and added to the general desolation
Beyond those frowsy fields rose the gaunt
frames and tall chimneys of many coal
mines, and down the hill, on the Oldbury
road, the everlasting furnaces gave the sum
mer evening sky an angry glare. You cbuld
hear Their roar and the dead thud of
the steamhammer on any quiet night,
and sometimes the clank of iron bars
and pigs, as the boats beside the
wharf were loaded, as though some great