The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-08-30
Published by Special
THE STORY OF A SCULPTOR.
A STORY BY THE LATE
II q G. H CON W A z,
Author Called Back Novels
PART I.-CHApTER I.

OF Whlcn swings from the branch or an elm tree
older even than the house tself-a few steps
along the road bring you in sight of the pin
nacled. square tower Of Coornbe-Acton Church.
You cannot see the church itself, as, with
schools and rectory close by it, it lies at the
back of the village, about two hundred yards up
lane Like the village to whose spiritual needs
it ministers the church, to an ordinary observer,
is nothing out of the common, although certain
small peculiarities of architecture. not noticed
by an uncultured eye, make it an object of some
interest TO psychologists Visit it or not
eording to your inclination, but afterward keep
straight on through the long, struggling village,
until the houses begin to grow even more strag-
Cling, the gardens larger and less cared for as
ornaments. displaying more cabbages and scar
let runners than roses-keep on until The houses
cease altogether, and hawthorne hedges take the
place of palings and bling walls, and at last
you come to Watercress Farm, long low,
white house, one side Of which abuts on the
highway, whilst the other looks over the three
hundred acres of land attached to 1t.
Not a very large acreage, it is true, but then it
is all good land, for the most part such as
auctioneers describe as rich, warm, deep, old
pasture land such land that, at the time this
tale opens, any farmer, by thrift, knowledge Of
his business and hard work. could make even
moro than bare living out of, and could meet his
landlord on rent day with cheerful face, know
ing that after rent and other outgoings were pro-
vded for something would yet be left for him
self
Who occupies Watercress Farm now, and
whether in these days Of depression his rent is
readily forthcoming or not. matters little. At
the time write of it was rented by Farmer
Leigh, even as his forefathers according to vii
laGe tradition. had rented it for some two hun
dred years. In quiet conservative places like
Coon e-Acton, a farm of this kind often goes
from father to son with more regularity than an
entaied estate, landlord and tenant we'll know
ing that their interests are identical
1t was fine afternoon towards the end of
June Abraham Leigh was standing by the
gate of the field known as the home meadow,
looking at the long ripe grass ripping the
summer breeze swept across it, He was a
thoroughly good specimen of Somersetshire
farmer. A big, sturdy man, whose movements
were slow and deliberate. His face, if heavy
and stolid, not by any means the face of fool.
No doubt, man of circumscribed vews-tne
world, for him, extending eastward to Bristol
market and westward to the Bristol channel
Nevertheless, respected in his little world as a
wonderful judge of beast. ? great authority on
tillages, and, above all, man who always had a
balance in his favor at the Somersetshire Bank;
q type of that extinct race, the prosperous
farmer who looked on all townsmen with con-
tempt thinking, as all farmers should think,
that the owners of broad acres, and those en-
gagged in agriculture, were alone worthy of
respect
Yet, today, in spite of his advantages and
requirements, Farmer Leigh looked on the
ffteen-acre meadow with puzzled and discon-
tented expression on his honest face; and, more
over murmurs of dissatisfaction were
proceeding from his lips. Farmers-Somerset-
shire farmers especially-are proverbial grum-
blers but it is seldom they grumbe without an
audience. 1t is outsiders who get the, benefit of
their complaints. Besides, one would think that
the tenant Of Watercress Farm had little, at
present. to complain Of. The drop of rain so
badly wanted had been long in coming but it
had come just in the nick of time to save the
grass, and if the crop, outwardly, looked little
thin, Mr. Leiehs experienced eye todd him that
the underground was thick, and that the quality
of the hay would be frst-class. Moreover, what
corn and roots he had looked promising, so it
seems strange that the farmer should be grum-
bling when he had no one to listen to him, ard
should lean so disconsolatey upon the gate of
the field when no one observed him.
II can't make him out he said. Good bow
he be, too-yet instead O helping me with the
land, always going about dreaming or messing
with mud. Can't think where he got his notions
from. Suppose it must a been from the mother,
poor thing Always fond o emcracks and such
like she were. Gave the lad such an outlandish
name Tn ashamed to hear it. Fathers and
grandfathers name ought to be good enough for
a Leigh-good boy though he be, too"
A soft look settled on Abraham Leigh's face as
he repeated the last words; then he went deeper
into his slough of despond. where no doubt he
battled as manfully a Christian until he
reached the other shore and fancied he had
found the solution of his difficulties.
His face frightened. "Tell zee what" he said
addressing the waving grass in front of him, "I1l
ask Mr.. Herbert 'Squire's man who has seen
lhe world. I'll take his advice about the boy
Seems hard like on me, too. Meier Leigh till
this one but what were farmer to the back
bone"
His mind made Up, the farmer strobe off to
make arrangements with mowers. Had he been
troubled with twenty unnatural and incompetent
sons. the hay must be made while the sun
shines
Although he had settled what to do, it was
some time before the weighty resolve was carried
into execution. Folks about Coombe-Acton do
not move with the celebrity of cotton brokers or
other men OK business. Sure they are, but slow.
80 it was not until the September rent day that
the farmer consulted his landlord about his
domestic dificuty-the possession of son, an
only child, of about fifteen, who, instead of
making himself useful on the land, did little
else save wander about in dreamy way, look
ing at all objects in nature animate or mani.