The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1883-05-04
THE BAR LIGHT. HOUSE.


Government had for several years
been sadly neglecting q job of mending
IN the case of the Bar Lighthouse
bridge. Here and there boards had be-
gun to spring suspiciously beneath I'M
wary footsteps; then the wind had be-
gun to tear them off, and the rain to rot
and molder them down. What was
every mans business was nobody's, and
no individual was disposed to interfere
with the province of that abstract mil
lionaire, the United States Government.
To be sure, the keeper of the Bar Light,
Jackson Reed, who was naturally more
solicitous concerning the holding out of
the structure than any one else, had
wildly and fruitlessly patched some Of
the worst places, off and on, after a
hard ''northeaster," when he awoke
more keenly to the exigencies of the
case, and the hopeless dilatoriness of
to very little. Long neglect had made
something more than mere patching
necessary. Now the quarter-mile bridge
leading to the Bar Lighthouse, if not
in an absolutely unsafe condition, was
not calculated to inspire any degree OF
confidence in the unaccustomed crosSer
at least. 1t was not quite so bad at low
tide, or on mild, still day. There
was not so much to fear then beyond q
little fall and ducking; that is, if one
cleared one of those ragged apertures
successfully. But on u dark night,
with the winds bowling over it, and the
ocean laundering beneath it, it was the
sort of a bridge that only disembodied
spirit could be supposed to cross with
any degree of nonchalance,
The lighthouse itself was only an or.
binary dwelling-house, strongly built
with tower for the light. 1t stood Oh
a massive pile of rocks, with little tufts
of coarse vegetation in the clefts. Jack.
son Reed, who had au unfortunate love
and longing for garden spot, had &C
tually wheeled enough earth over from
the mainland for little patch few
yards square, and when he was not en-
gagged in fruitless struggle with the
broken bridge he was engaged in fruit
less struggle with his garden. Apotter
ing old man was Jackson Reed, lacking
in nervous force and quickness of intel
lect; but he had never let the light q
out, and the only thing that is absolutely
required of q lighthouse keeper is K
keep the light burning for the sailor.
who steer by it. e5
The wonder was that his wife SaraI
should have been his wife. She was
person not of different mold merely
but of different kind; not Of diheren
species, but a different genus. Nervous
and alert, what her husband accepted il
patient silence she received with shril
remonstrance and questioning. He
husband patched the bridge, crawling
over its long reach on his old knees
she rallied, as she watched him, at tn,
neglect of Government. He uncom
plainingly brushed the sand from hi
little, puny, struggling plants, and sh,
set her thin face against the wind tina
cast it there.
In both, the religious element or cas-
of mind was strongly predominant, bu
Jackson Reed simply looked out OF
Nature and into his own soul, and tool
in as plain incontrovertible facts thu
broken bridge, the tossing sea, his it'll
wind-swept, sand-Strewn garden-patch
and God in Heaven. Neither prove,
the other or nullified the other; the,
were simply there. But Sarah Reed
looking out on the frail, unsafe bridg,
which connected them with the main
land, and the mighty, senseless SCI
which had swallowed up her father ant
a brother whom she had idolized, ant
the poor little tende green things trying
to live under her window, had seen il
them so many dumb denials of eithe
Gods love and mercy or His existence
She was a rheumatic old woman now
almost helpless, in fact, unable to stel
without the help of her husband. AM
she sat, day in and day.out, at one o
the sea-windows of her sitting-room
knitting, and holding her defiant oil,
heart persistently against the pricks.
The minister at Rye, a jealous youn,
man, with an innocent confidence in hi
powers of holy argument, had visite
her repeatedly, with the view of improv
ing her state of mind She had ioinet
the church over which he presided, il
her youth; indeed, it was the churcl
nearest to the lighthouse, and that wa
three miles distant. The minister hat
heard from one of his parishioners, VIII,
was a connection of hers, that Mis- Reet
had lost her faith, and straightway h,
was fired with holy ardor to do some
thing for her spiritual benefit. Butevel
his tonguey confidence and ingenious
ness could CLEAN but little satisfaction
from his interviews with the rheumati,
and unbelieving old woman.
mo, Mr., Pendleton, she used to say
shaking a thin rheumatic hand, with al
impressiyepess which her nearer Nigh
have copied adyantageously in the pull
pit. lit amt no use. You kin tall
Rb0ut seem with the spirit an WoT