The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1885-09-10

oITdngeE 10 Sau3ud, L Inluh you
said? First visit TO Ontario? Well,
you're heartily welcome to Indian
Creek. Take chair on the piazza
till dinners ready-we dine early in
these world parts.
Fine farm? Well. yes; Indian Creek
is a nice place, il do own it. All as
far as you can see-grass-land, corn
fields, woods and creeks-all belong
to it. Stock, too-they call it the best
stocked farm in Ontario, believe, and
] dare say they're right. All mine;
and yet came to Canada twelve years
ago, without even the traditional half
crown in my trousers pocket. You
look surprised. Would you like to
hear the story? There's good half
hour to dinner time yet. and it's a
story I mover tire of telling, somehow.
began life as the son of village
carpenter in the south of England.
You know that class pretty well,
daro say, and what a gulf was fixed
between me and the vicar of the par
Ish. And yet-and yet-from the
time she was years old and IL, and
she fell down in the dusty road out
side the carpenters shop, and cried,
and picked her up, and smoothcd the
little crumpled pinafore. and kissed
the dust out of her golden curls, low
cd but one girl in the world, and that
was the wears daughter, Winny
Branscome.
Madness. you'll say. Well, perhaps
so, and yet man is but man, and a
woman a woman; and love comes,
whatever one may do. There's no
class distinction recognized by child
hood, and we were playmates and
friends till she went to boarding school.
If Miss Winny had had a mother no
doubt things would have been very diff
ferent; but we are alike in never hav-
ing known Il woman's care, and the
old vicar was blind to everything but
his theological treatiSes.
But when she came back from her
London boarding school, a beautiful
young lady, all smiles and laces and
little lovely ways-then / knew. Ihad
tried my best to study and work, and
make myself more like the men she
would meet; but what can a lad in an
English village do? L had just enough
education to make every other lad in
the village hate me; and beside the
men of her world l suppose cut rath-
er an astonishing figure. Yet the love
of her was so beyond all else in me,
that mad. hopeless rs felt it, | had
no power over myself; and the first
time | caught her alone in the woods
she avoided Ine, l saw. and L had to
watch for Il chance told her the
whole story, and waited for her an
swer. She grew scarlet-a rush of
color that dyed her sweet face-then
dealhly white.
DICK, she said, and she was trem-
bling from head to foot, ''you know it
can never, never be; yOu know you are
wrong even To dream of such thing.
Some girls would think it an INSULT
know you better; but if my father heard
of this he would say you had abused
his kindness 10 you; he would never
forgive you. Forget your madness"
And she ran from me.
let her go. had seen the blush
and the tremor, and | guessed that If
L had been Mr.. Lotus, the young
squire, instead of Dick Hawtry, the
carpenters son, her answer might have
been different. A great resolve sprang
up in my soul, and l took solemn
vow in those June woods. That very
night sold the old shop (my father
was dead and had taken to the busi-
ness), and with the money bought an
outfit, and started straight for Canada.
1t was pretty tough work at first, but
worked like q galley-slave-starved
and pinched and saved, and never spent
a penny on myself except for the books.
sat up half the night to read and
study. Well, in this country the man
who works and doesn't drink is sure to
get on; and l had a mighty purpose
in my bead. By-and-by Ibought some
land dirt cheap, and sold it for three
times what gave for it-then l began
to make money fast. | should call my
luck wonderful If believed in luck,
and didn't prefer to think L was help
ed by a power far abler than my own.
At last, ten years to the very day after
l set foot on Canadian soil, l bought
Indian Greek farm. and began to build
this house. All the neighbors thought
my good fortune had turned my brain,
for I fitted up and furnished it for a
lady, down to little rocking char by
my study-table, and a tiny work-basket
with tiny gold thimble in it. And
when all was finished | took the first
ship for Liverpool.
Ten years builds city over here. 1t
doesn't make much change in a Dew
shire village. The very gates were
still half-off their hinges, as left them.
only the people were little older and
q trife more stupid, and there was a
new vicar. Old Mr.. Branscome had
been dead six months-died very poor,
they told me; there was nothing left
for Miss Winny. My heart gave one
great leap when l heard that. And
Miss Winnyp Oh, she had gone gov
ernessing with some people who were
Just off to Canada, and the ship sailed
tomorrow from Liverpool.
The Liverpool express never seemed
to crawl so slowly before. l got there
to find every berth taken on board the
Antarctic, and the captain raging at
the non-appearance of two of the crew.
Without seconds pause | offered for
one of the vacant places. L was as
strong as horse, and active enough,
and, though the captain eyed me- rath-
er askance, Il had been to a West-end
tailor on my way through London
he was too glad to get ME to ask any
questions, so sailed on the ship with
my girl, little as she knew ii. l saw
her the first day or two, looking SC
pale and thin that she was like the
ghost of her old SELF and yet sweetel
to my eyes than ever before. The
children she had charge of were trou
blesome little creatures, who worried
and badgered her till longed to cut
them we'll. But there was a gentlenes;
and patience about her quite new tc
my ideas of Miss Winny, and | only
loved her the more for it. After the
second day out the wind freshened
| and l saw no more of her.
We had an awful passage. 1t wa:
late in November-an early Winter
and the cold was intense. 1t blew on'
continuous gale, and some OF our ma