The herald., 1894-11-24
ANDY COPLEl'S LIE.


mort Andrew Copley dwells most vivid
" in nv memory As prosperity is
raured at Port St. Bede, Andrew, the
owner Of some half dozen fully equipped
fishing smacks, was accounted pros
nervous man. I recall him now--his
kindly face. tanned and netted in wrin.
kles; his long hair, grizzled this many a
day; his stubby gray beard; his light
blue eyes, bespectacled for reading--yes,
there he sits. Many are the CRACKS
have had with him. Yet there was one
story he chose to leave buried in silence
and that his own. ] never dared
broaoh the topic, albeit / inwardly
burned with impatient curiosity. One
day, however, the history became mine
unsolicited. Some remark CHANGED to
let slip anent his lifelong bachelorhood
caused an infreuuent faraway look to
settle upon his eyes, We were walking
up the steep, cobble paved street. at
the time. past the lime washed front Of
the Trawlers' inn to the higher ground,
from which the old Norman church
tower kept ward over the slumberous
village.
why haze never married. say YEP"
the old man exclaimed after u long
spell Of silence. Like enow, yen hear
afore long, an I dome see what should
stop me fro tellin ye mysen, If SO be- -
Hurriedly stepping into the roadway.
Andrew whipped off his broad brimmed
hat and stood motionless, Turning into
the sanded lane that zigsagged past the
church. we had we'll nigh jostled two
slow paced women, the younger Of them
about so years Of age. the elder 20 years
or so older ~ was the latter that at
tracted my marked regard, for it was
toward heI that Andrew held his down
bent head A wan, frail looking crea-
ture she was. dressed in black, with
close fitting old fashioned bonnet tied
under her shin in bow Of broad black
ribbon Her hair, smoothed evenly upon
her forehead, shimmered silverly as the
new churnea foam in the bay. She
moved haltingly. even with the aid Of
an oaISen staff and the helping arm Of
her companion.
Withdrawing her arm, she paused in
the pathway and pointed her stick to-
thin, quavering tones, as if the words
were said by rote. there being no ve-
hemence in her utterance, she cried:
"Ah, knaw ye--I knaw We. Ban ye
for no speakin me fair" With no more
passion than if she were repeating some
soulless formula, she added: Curse ye
Andrew Copley! 1t was ltei Curse We
for'tr'
Come awa'r the other woman put
in coaxingly. Come thee AVA home.
then"
Unresisting the old lady allowed her
self to be led away Through it all An
drew did not stir limb but stood there
with dotted hat, his head bowed and his
name of gray hair rnffiing in the bresze.
We had left the church behind, the
Eeep rutted lane, the narrow stone style
that gave upon the fields. We had trav.
ersed half the length of the meadows
themselves before he spoke.
"Ye asked me how twas never mar
ried,' said he slowly. THAT Is the
reason"
So he began upon his life story. But
as his narrative would be hard to follow
if l adhered to his exact words, with his
numerous digressions and irrelevapcies
uttered with quaint bur. Of tongue,
and, moreover, as his modesty saw fit
to gloss over certain facts which I heard
of later in other quarters, venture to
set it forth after my own fashion.
We bark back full half century.
Port st. Bede--nc vast size at this pres
ent-was then mere nest of sandstone
shale rooted cottages planted ct the
foot of the hill and struggling disjoint.
eddy up to it from the street" Later
improvements have displaced or rebuilt
most of these one stored dwellings and
filled in the gaps, but tho old Trawlers
inn looks Just as it looked so years ago.
It lies back some ten PAGES from the
roadway, the shingled space thus OBJ.
tanned being highly favored of loupgers
and gossips The spot served an identi'
cal purpose SO far back as the oldes.
memory goes.
A little knot Of fisher men and WON
en- foregathered there one Wednesday
morning to await the arrival of the Mo-
perland letter carrier. Twice week. on
Wednesdays and Saturdays, he trudged
the ten miles to deliver his meager
package of letters. He always made his
way first to the Trawlers', where it Dad
become customary tor the pop,slaoe--
those who did not expect letters Elike
with those who did-to assemble and
waylay him. In that manner che canny
souls got news from the outside world
without being put to the expense Of q
postal fee, while the official on his part
was quit of his letters all the sooner.
On this particular morning, however,
the gayety of the group was under
eclipse They talked together in hushed
tones, full Of concern, every now and
then preferring question to the
bronzed, middle aged seaman in their
midst.
"An ye're sure ye've got the reights
O. It, Ja11e?" queried big faced wom-
an, whose skinny petticoat showed her
ample brogues and shapeless ankles.
eth kill t'lass if she hears O. e
: "Oh, I'm moan mista' en---.not me-"
answered the seaman positively "Iseed
him mysen i Grimshy not three days
back, an / card it read ont j. church
the second time O. akin it were--last
Sunday"
Poor maid, poor maidl An her wait
IN for him here as patient an lovin as
onybody could wish. All. them men.
them men!''
While the frowsy old crone was shak-