The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1894-11-24
Select Storp.
THE MAN FROM GR1MsBY.

OF the old folks of the bleak little sea-
port, Andrew Cropley dwells most vividly
in my memory. As prosperity is gauged
at Port St Bede, Andrew-the owner of
some half-dozen fully equipped fishing
smacks-was accounted prosperous man.
recall him now-his kindly face, tanned
and netted in wrinkles; his long hair, griz-
zled this many a day; his stubby gray
beard; his light-blue eyes, bespectacled for
reading-yes, there he sits. Many is the
''crack | have had with him; yet there
was one story he chose to leave buried in
silence and that. his own | never dared
breach the topic, albeit I inwardly burned
with an impatient curiosity. One day,
however, the history became mine unso-
lieited Some remark | CHANGED to let
slip anent his lifelong bachelorhood caused
an infrequent far-away 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, ha' e | never married, say YEP
the old man exclaimed after long spell of
silence. Like enow, yell hear afore
long; an I don't see what should stop me
fro tellin' he mysen, if so be e''-Hurriedly
stepping into the roadway, Andrew whipped
off his broad -brimmed hat and stood mo-
tionless. Turning into the sanded lane
that zigzagged past the church, We had
well-nigh jostled two slow-paced women,
the younger of them about 80 years of
age; the elder, 20 years or so older. 1t
was the latter that attracted my marked
regard, for it was toward her that Andrew
held his down-bent head A wan, frail-
looking creature she was, dressed in black,
with close fitting, old-fashioned bonnet
tied under her chin in bow Of broad black
ribbon. Her hair, smoothed evenly upon
her forehead, shimmered silvery as the new
churned foam in the bay. She moved
haltingly, even with the aid of the oaken
stat and the helping arm of her companion.
Withdrawing her arm she paused in the
pathway, and pointed her stick. toward the
bare headed old fisherman. In thin, quay
ering tones, as if the words were said by
note, there being no vehemence in her ut
terance, she cried, 'Ah, | knaw ye--I
knaw ye. Ban ye, for no speakin me
fair. With no more passion than if she
we're repeating some soulless formula, she
added: Curse ye, Andrew Copley 1t
L. (t.,,..> 80 e.
Come ava the other woman put in
coaxingly, come thee ava home, then.
Unresisting, the old lady allowed herself
to be led away. Through it all Andrew
did not stir limb, but stood there with
doffed hat, his head bowed and his name
of gray hair rufiing in the breeze We
had left the church behind, the deep rut-
ted lane, the narrow stone style that gave
upon the fields; we had trayersed half the
length Of the meadows themselves before
he spoke. eye asked me how twas |
never married said he slowly That
is the reason.
So he began upon his life story. But
as his narratise would be hard to follow if
| adhered to his exact words, with his nu-
merous digressions and irrelevaneies, ut
tered with quaint burr of tongue, and,
moreover, as his modesty saw fit to gloss
over certain facts, which heard of later
in certain quarters, venture TO set it forth
after my own fashion.
We hark back full half century. Port
st. Bede-no vast size at this present
was then mere nest of sandstone. shale-
rooted cottages, planted at the foot Of the
hill, and struggling digiointedly up to it
from the street Later Improvements
have displaced or rebuilt most of these one
stored dwellings, and filed in the gaps: but
the old 'sIrawlers' Inn looks just as it
looked fifty years ago. 1t lies back some
ten PAGES from the roadway, the shingled
space thus obtained being highly favored
of loungers and gossips. The spot served
an identical purpose so far back as the old
est memory goes.
A little Knot of fsher-folk, men and
woman, gathered there one Wednesday
morning to await the arrival of the Morpe-
land letter carrier. Twice week, on
Wednesdays and Saturdays, he trudged
the ten miles to deliver his meagre package
of letters. He always made his way first
to the Trawlers' where it had become Gus
tomary for the populace- those who did
not expect letters alike with those who did
to assemble and waylay him. In that man
ner the canine souls got news from the
outside world without being put to the ex-
pense of postal fee, while the official on
his part was quit of his letters all the
sooner On this particular morning, how
ever, the gayety of the group was under
eclipse. They talked together in 'hushed
tones, full of concern, every now and then
preferring asquestion to the bronzed, mid
die aged seaman in their midst.
An ye're sure ye'ye got the reights
o it Jake2' queried big-faced woman,
whose skimpy petticoat showed her ample
brogues and shapeless ankles sItll kin
t'lass if she hears o it,
oh, I'm moan mista 'en-not me, an
swered the seaman positively. II seed him
mysen i tsrimsby not three days back, an
1 card it read out i church-the second
time o akin it last Sunday.