Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1897-07-22
JUST IN TIME
BY c. N. BARHAM.

A S SEEN from the sea, the town of
~ New Haven, Mass, appears en-
bosomed between two hills. These
hills are not more than five hundred
feet in height; but what they lack in
altitude they make up for in pictur-
esqueness. They present a bold front
OF trap rock, which, combined with the
harbor in the foreground, and long
line of low hills stretching away to-
ward the sky line, constitute scene of
loneliness which is not easily forgotten.
The whole neighborhood is of his
torical interest. 1t was in one of these
two hills-that which is called the West
Rock-that the celebrated regicides,
COTE and Whallley, once found refuge.
A cleft in it's rugged sides is known, far
and wide, by the name of the Judges
Cave"
This cave is mere den, lying be-
tween two immense boulders of about
twenty feet perpendicular. One of
these is somewhat conical in shape,
while the other is almost perfect par
allelogram. Between thess at some
remote period, another large stone
would seem to have fallen, and become
tightly wedged. This is all that justi-
fies the name of cave. The place
must have been filter dwelling for the
bears and cougars which at that period
infested the eastern states, than for
two famous Englishmen.
On one of the stones, which is covered
with inscriptions, some visitor has
taken pains to renew the inscription
which, tradition says, the occupants
placed over their retrHat. His enthu-
siasm must have been brighter than his
photography, for he has only succeeded
in informing posterity that opposition
to tyrants is obedience to God"
Hither one hundred and twenty years
ago came Reginald Flanders, an Eng
lish soldier, who had served in the
French and Indian war. 1t was soli-
tary situation for such man to have
chosen as a settlement; but he knew no
fear, and craved for no companionship.
He cultivated q patch of the wilderness
which stretched far away inland, and,
as the Indians were quiet, the wild hill
side seemed to him, his wife and Basil,
his eight-year-old son, an earthly par
adise.
1t was a September morning. The
leaves, beginning to change, shone like
gold in the sun. Reginald Flanders
had thrown a sack of corn across tie
back of his plow-horse and was taking
a farewell of his wife and child, pre-
paratory to starting for New Haven,
where he proposed to exchange his
marketable commodity for household
necessaries. Throwing his gun over
his shoulder-for no prudent man
would then go on journey without his
tried weapon of defense-he strobe
away, and was almost Immediately lost
to view.
Shortly after the dispatch of a frugal
breakfast, Basil left the log house and
wandered towards the verge of the
woods. A small stream came triclliDg
down toward the sea, and beside it the
little fellow halted. A floating acorn,
the first of the season, caught his eye,
and, with the thoughtlessness of child
hood, he drew it to the bank. Some
how, that early fruit of the wilderness
appealed to his roaming instinct. He
craved for more, and, reasoning that
there must be plenty up stream, per-
ceiving that his mothers eye was not
upon him, he started on his quest.
The rivulet ran through a ravine.
The banks, composed of rocks, fretted
by storm and decay, rose almost per-
pendicularly on either side. A few
scattered Trees and shrubs sought nour-
ishment from the earth, which had
fallen from above. Beyond these, up
the gorge, Basil pushed on-whither he
did not know.
The mother soon missed her son, but
at first, thinking he was In the vicinity,
checked her fears. The hours passed,
and, as he did not return, her anxiety
changedto absolute terror. Forsaking
all else, Mrs. Flanders hurried to the
fields, and, with rapid footsteps, trav-
ersed the gloomy glades. Search as she
would, she could discover no trace of the
missing one. She shouted, called his
name, but there was no response.
AT length she came to the stream.
There, with cry, half of gladness, half
of dsmay, she hailed the child's foot
prints in the soft, yielding soil. She
saw that they pointed upwards to the
gorge, into which she had never before
ventured- But mothers love fears no
consequences. She entered.
For some time she rushed onward,
experiencing all the bitterness of hope
deferred. The cry: Basil! Basil"