The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1895-07-28
THE FLOWING SOURCE.
BY A. T CUTLER Couch.

ing drink r, ,re cool OF tire day qtis.
citizens rambIed up from Pontesios WITH
rod and line or brought tneT raEnlies oy
boat on the high evening tide 20 eat
cream and junker ana 81 a1tsFN ari On
the benches By the Inn door, watching the
fan rise and listening 10 the s9sg OF the
,sogfrg r,Nor,,e some way Up tire stream.
Painters came TOO, and sketchsd the I'D
frn and sometimes stayed for a week,
having tasted the salmon Pigeon bred
ers dropped in and Smoked long pipes in
the kitchen with Master Simon, and
slowly evolved bets and matches. And
once or twice in the summer months a
company OF pilgrims would arrive-ques-
literary men IN velveteen coats. who ex-
amined al the rooms and furniture as
though they meant 20 make a bid for the
inn complete. who talked with outland-
ism tongues and ordered expensive din
ners and usually paid for them next
morning, rather TO Master Sirncn's sIr-
prise II appeared that there was once,
in the time OF Master Simon's g=snd-
father. a certain pot boy al the Flowing
Source who ran OF into the world and
became a great poet: and these Pilgrim
ages were made in his honos. Master
Simon found this story somehow very
credftab.e go himself. and came in time
TO take almost as much pride IN Il as n
his pigeons and Droiled salmon. Regd-
larry after dinner on these occasions he
would exhibit an old pewter pint pos %
the pilgrims and draw their attention TO
the following verse. scratched upon it
as ne asserted-by the poets own hand:
who buys beef buys bones,
Who buys land buys stones,
Who buys eggs buys shells,
But who buys ale buys nothing e.s."
And the pilgrims faigned cred llity ac-
cordsng as they valued Master Simon's
opinion OF their intelligence.
But most welcome of all were the mer-
chant captains from Ponteglos, among
whom custom had made il a point OF
honor 10 report themselves at the Flow
Ing Source within twenty-four hours after
dropping anchor by Ponteglos quay. When
or why or how the custom arose nobody
was old enough TO remember. bat mas
ter mariner would as soon have thought
of sailing withoat log or ieadline as OF
putting in and out of Ponteglos without
tasting Master Simon's ale-"calling Tor
orders" as they put il. Master Simon had
never climbed sea-going ship except TO
shake hands with friend and wish good
voyage and return to shore with the pilot.
But the teak walls OF his parlor were
lined with charts of such very remote
parts of the world. and his shelves with
such quantity of foreign china and ma
rne curiosities, and he spoke so familiar
the Horn, the Straits of Magellan and SO
forth, and would bring his telescope so
knowingly to bear on the gilt weather.
cock over Ponteglos church tower. that
until you knew the truth you would have
sworn half his life had been spent on the
quarterback. And while the sea captains
serious. men. attired In blue cloth, wear
ing rings In their ears-sat and smoked
CANISTER and other queer tOba COOS in
painted china pipes, and talked of coun-
tries whose very names conjured up Wis.,
ions of parrots, and carved idols. and
sharks, and brown natives In flashing
canoes, Master Simon would put shrewd
question or two and wag his Lead over
the answers a man who hears just
what ne expected. And sometimes. to-
ward the close OF the sitting, II he knew
his company very well. he would reward
them with his favorite and only song.
'The Golden Vanitee:"
"A ship I have got in the North Countree.
And had her christened the Golden Van
0. / fear she'll be taken by Spanish Gal
AS She sails by the Lowlands low" ..
In some hazy way he had persuaded
himself that the Spanish galleon of the
ballad was the very ship whose timbers
overarched him and the audience; and for
the moment. being himself inverted $50 10
speak, by the potency of his own singing,
he blew out his chest and straddled out
his thick calves and screwed up MS eyes
quite as IL his roof-tree&ere right-side-up
once more in blue water. and he on deck
beside the weather rail-. But the mood
began TO pass as soon as he locked the
front door behind his guests, and Ann the
cook poured him out his last cup OF