Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1901-07-27

served; how he would shout from the
poop TO his squadron to wheel 10 the
right or 10 charge or 10 halt, aS the case
might be. as if he were still with his
regiment of horse. OF Blake, too. he had
many stories TO tell. But even the name
of Blake was not SO dear our old
sailor as was that of Sir Christopher
Mings. Solomon had at one time been
his cOXSwain. and could talk 10y the hour
Of those gallant deeds which had diStin-
guiShed him from the day that he en-
tered the navy as a cabin boy until he
fell upon his own quarterback. full adj
miral OF the red, ana was borne by his
weeping ships company To his grave in
Chatham churChyard. IF SO he as
there's a jasper sea up al0ft." said the
old seaman, III wager that Sir Chris
topher will see that the English flag has
proper respect paid 10 il upon it, and
that we are not fooled by foreigners.
I've served under him in this world, and
| ask nothing better than to be his
coXswain in the neXt-if so be rs he
should chance to have a vacancy for
SUCH These rememhrances would al
ways end i'll the brewing of an extra
bowl of punch, and the drinking of a
solemn bumper 70 the memory of the de-
parted hero.
Stirring as were solomon Sprent's ac-
counts of his old commanders. their eff
feet upon us was not SO great rs when,
about his second or third glass. the flood
gates of his memory would be opened,
and he would pour out long tales of the
lands which he had visited and the peo-
pies which he had seen. Leaning for
ward in our seats. with our chinS resting
upon our hands, we two youngsters would
sit for hours. with our eyes fixed upon
the old adventurer. drinking in his words
while he pleased ut the interest which
H., .Tn at bic t,inn
and reel off story after story of what he
had seen or done. In those days. my
dears. there was no Defoe to tell us the
wonders Of the world. no Spectator to lie
upon our breakfast table. no Gulliver to
satisfy our love Of adventure by telling
us of such adventures as never were.
Not once in month did a common news
letter fall into our hands. Personal haZ-
ards. therefore. were of more value then
than they are now, and the talk of a
man like old Solomon was Il library in
itself To us ii was all real. His husky
tones and ill-choSen words were a. the
voice of an angel. and our eager minds
filled in the details and supplied all that
was wanting in his narratives. In one
evening we have engaged Il Sallec rover
off the Pillars of Hercules we have
coasted down the shores of the African
continent, and seen the great breakers
of the Spanish Main foamlng upon the
yellow sand: we have passed the black
ivory merchants with their human ear
goes; we have faced the terrible storms
which blow ever around the Cape de Boa
Esperanza; and finally. we have sailed
away out over the great ocean beyond,
amid the palm-clad coral islands, with
the knowledge that the realms of Pres
ter Joe lie somewhere behind the golden
haze which ShmmerS upon the horizon.
After such Il fight as that, we would
feel. as we came back to the Hampshire
village and the full realities of country
life. like wild birds who had been SHARED
by the fowler and clapped into narrow
cages. Then it was that the words of
my father, You will find your wings
some day and fly away would come
back to me and set up such restless
ness as all the wise words of Zachary
Palmer could not allay.