The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1884-02-01
SELECT STORY.
THE BAR LIGHT HOUSE.


been sadly neglecting job of mend
ing in the case of the Bar Lighthouse
bridge. Here and there boards had
begun to spring suspiciously beneath
unwaiy footsteps; then the wind had
begun to tear them off, and the rain to
rot and moulder them down. What
was every mans business was nobody's,
and no individual was disposed to in
terfere with the province of that alb
stract millionaire, the United States
Government To be sure, the keeper
of the Bar Light, Jackson Reed, who
was naturally more solicitous concern
ing the holding out of the structure
than any one else, had wildly and fruit.
lessly patched some of the worst places,
on and after 'Northeaster,' when he
awoke more keenly to the exigen-
cies of the case, and the hopeless dila
toriness of his taskmastei. But it had
amounted to very little. Long neglect
had made something more than mere
patching necessary. Now the quarter
mile bridge leading to the Bar Light
house, if not in an absolutely unsafe
condition, was not calculated to inspire
any degree of confidence in the accus-
toned crosser, at least. 1t was not
quite so bad at low tide, or on a mild
still day. There was not much to fear
then beyond little fall and ducking;
that is, if one cleared one of those
ragged apertures successfully. But on
a dark night, with the winds bowling
under it, and the ocean laundering be-
meath it, it was sort of a bridge that
only disembodied spirit could cross
with any degree of nonchalance.
The Lighthouse itself was only an
ordinary dwelling house, strongly
built, with a tower for the light 1t
stood on a massive pile of rocks, with
little tufts of coarse vegetation in the
cliffs. Jackson Reed, who had an un-
fortunate longing for garden spot,
had actually wheeled enough earth over
from the mainland, for little patch
only few yards square, and when he
was not engaged in fruitless struggle
with the broken bridge, he was engag-
ed in fruitless struggle with his gar
den. A pottering old man was jack
son Reed, lacking in nervous force and
quickness of intellect; but he had never
let the light 60 out, and the only thing
that is absolutely required Of light
house keeper is to keep the light burn
ing for the sailors who steer by it.
The wonder was that his wife Sarah
should have been his wife. She was a
person, not of different mould, but of
different kind; not of different spe-
cies, but different genus. Nervous
and alert, what her husband accepted
in patient silence she received with shrill
remonstrance and questioning.
Her husband patched the bridge,
crawling over its long reach on his old
knees; she rallied, as she watched him,
at the neglect of the government. He
uncomplainingly brushed the sand from
his little, puny, struggling plants, and
she set her thin face against the wind
that cast it there.
In both the religious element or cast
of the mind was strongly predominant,
but Jackson Reed simply looked out or
nature and into his own soul, and took
in as plain, incontrovertible facts the
broken bridge, the tossing sea, his lit
tie wind-swept, sand-strewn garden
patch, and God in heaven. Neither
proved the other or nullifed the other
They were simply there. But Saral
Reed, looking out upon the frail, un
safe bridge which connected them witt
the mainland, and the mighty, sense
less sea which had swallowed up he
father, and brother whom she idol
lied, and the poor tender little greer
things trying to live under her window
had seen in them SO many dumb de
mails of either Gods love and mercy, o
His existence. She was rheumati,
old woman now, almost helpless, il
fact, and unable to step without tn
| help of her husband. AS she sat da,
in and day out at one of the sea win
dows of her sitting-room, knitting, an,
holding her defiant old heart persist
emily against the pricks.
The minister at Rye, azealous youn,
man, with an innocent confidence il
his powers of holy argument, had Wis
tied her repeatedly, with the view o
improving her state of mind. She ha,
joined the church over which he pre-
sided in her youth; indeed it was tn
church nearest to the lighthouse, an,
that was three miles distant. This MN
lister had heard from one of his parish
toner's, who was a connection of herl
that Mrs. Reed had lost her faith, an,
straightway he was fred with holy al
dor to do something for her spiritu'
benefit. But even his tonguey conf
dence and ingeniousness could glea
but little satisfaction from his inte
views with the rheumatic and unbC
lieving old woman.
"No, Mr., Pendleton,' she used