The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1891-08-19
STORY OF DIR. HOFF

About forty years ago, before the
Great Western railway, now the Grand
Trunk, was completed, while workmen
were busy turning the sods, delving and
piling the virgin soil to receive the iron
rails and their upholding sleepers, where.
on the noisy steam monsters which were
to supersede the slow going stage.
coaches were to wend their smoky way,
there lived on the confines Of steep and
picturesque gorge over which surveyors
plans designed the railway to pass, Ger.
tain individual whom we will call DR..
Hoff.
1t was a beautiful spot, the home oil
this medico of long ago. Perched up on
the hillside, surrounded by forest trees
save where the hand of man had made q
clearing; backed by moss covered bowld-
ers, relics of day when noble lake,
which might be seen from an eminence,
had surged and tossed its uneasy, foam
fiecked breast far beyond its present
boundaries in stormy weather, or slept
in painted azure restfulness under sum.
mer suns. The home of DIR. Hoff was
indeed spot calculated to draw forth
mans best feelings to u great Creator.
Far below, at the foot of the tree lined
gorge, a brook trinkled and murmured
over its stony bed in the dense shade OF
the forest kings, here and there break.
ing from their leafy shadows to revel In
the sunlight which forced its way where
some great monarch had fallen either
through old age or the fury of the storm,
for the ak Of the woodman had not then
violated that exquisite corner of crea
ton.
There in the bosky shade the brook
rippled along, trout and minnow sport.
ing unmolested. Wild birds quenched
their thirst and bathed in its shady
depths, while the timid deer stole through
the forest to drink of its cool waters
Peace and silence reigned in the beauti.
full gorge, on the edge of which dwell
the object of this simple sketch; peace
among Gods creatures; silence, save fol
the song Of birds, the harmony of the
breezes through the forest trees. But
peace and harmony do not seem to have
reigned in the home of the dweller Oh
the verge of that gorge, so beautiful, sc
idealized by nature.
1t was stormy spirit which had taken
up abode in the dwelling on the summit.
DIR. HoH was passionate and quarrel.
some. People shook their heads and
spoke with pity of the sharer of his lot,
the delicate young bride he had brought
from far over the sea to bear the loneli.
ness and hardship of life in new
country. She was fair to see, this young
English lady of gentle birth and rearing,
Ill fitted to rough it in company with the
passionate, high tempered man in whose
hands she had placed her life. To be
sure the settlersin the vicinity were glad
to obtain DR.. Hoff's professional advice
and attendance. Doctors were not as
frequently met with in those days as in
the present ones. In sparsely settled
country districts q doctor was real
godsend; his life was no sinecure either.
There were long distances to go over
unbroken, rough roads. Fees were very
small, often hard to collect; professional
services were very frequently paid in
kind, not In money
These facts frequently angered DR..
Hof and raised up his passionate tenn
per.
If he worked he wanted his fees, that
was quite natural. He did not wait
with patience, like SO many of his pro-
fessional contemporaries learned to wait,
until haryest-it might be more than one
haryest-was in; until Tom Jones' colt
was sold or John Smiths steers were
yoke of oxen-nntil the brindle cows
calf was heifer of profitable age to sell.
No, he fretted and fumed, threatened
Tom Jones and cursed John Smith, de-
handing payment for his services in no
moderate language, making himself dis
liked and mistrusted, although neces.
sity throughout the surrounding coun-
try.
Only one child had come to cheer the
lonely lot of the doctors wife; only one,
and 1t had not come to stay. The dear
est spot on earth in the great wide new
country to the lonely little English wife
OF DIR. Hoff was the quiet corner in the
clearing where her darling slept. There
she took her loneliness, her griefs, her
troubles to the grave of her baby, whose
tiny face had rested ON her breast, whose
helplessness had appealed to her love
and care. Many night, driven from
the house by the furious, jealous temper
Of one who should have been kindest,
the poor girl, for she was but girl,
passed long, lonely hours by her child's
grave exposed to the dew of the starry
nights, the rain of the stormy ones, an in
nocent victim Of passions unrestrained.
Now certain Woodworking farmer,
in whose family sickness had seemed to
run riot for long period, lay heavily
under the ban of debt and the doctors
displeasure.
In vain the man--we will call him
Silas Beaverton he is said to have been
an Industrious hard working man,
though acknowledgements the doc
tor to pay at least part Of the account
owing. Time went on, but no money
was forthcoming. In vain the doctor
fumed and fused, ragged and demanded
his dues; then he threatened, wildly, pas
sionately, In the presence of others.
The doctor was known to require
money badly. Every one knew every
ones business in the neighborhood; 1t
was common talk that payments on GER
tain mortgages were due on certain
date, the doctor being one Of the persons
chiefly concerned.
There came day-a peaceful, cloud
less summer day-at the close of which
Silas Beaver announced his intention of
visiting the doctor and paying a small
q very small--sum on account.
So Beaver went his way up the hill to
the coy homestead that overlooked the
gorge just as the setting sun cast Its
ruby and golden rays over the spot 80