The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1903-06-14
NEW ENGLAND FOLKS.
BY NARY E. WILKINS.

The old clergyman told the story 20 an
Old and Intimate friend. The two were SIT
ing on the broad piazza Of a great noun
tain hotel al twilight. watching the shad-
Cws ceepen in the deep cleft 81 the noun
ialns. watching the mountains themselEeS
f@oeGe IN mighty night % mystery. j.
vas October. only a few days before the
closing time ~ the hotel. and the foitas
had its autgmual ;ints. Fog that reason tie
mountains mad been distinGuishable longer
than usual; there were gold lights on their
tanks. which endured despite the lowness
OF the sun. There was great south gale
~raginE. and the air was fail Of the smoke
~ distant woodland fire. hut the two old
@en sal in a sheltered nook of the piazza
hnd felt none IF the force II the wind. They
only heard IT'S roar among the trees and
raw the faraway toss Of the gold plumage
q the mountain opposite. The TWO had been
sitting silently for some time. peacefully
gazing ard smoking. Their thu old clergy
man finished his cigar tossed II away. and
spoke. There is q Iigh south wind. said
h..
Yes assenied the other.
IT fs curious bow the backgrounds Of
Histories u NOT the histories. repeat them
selves ssid the old clergyman.
I dou't quite catch your meaning"
This night is almost the counterpart n
smother fifty years ago. on which some
thing extraordinary happened"
ltiEf
'.:elL I suppose should hardly dignity
s, ny that name. since ii was only a hap
renIng of my own unhistorical existence.
but il has had an effect Upon my whole
klife. ana has always had \ certaiu impor-
'iance iu my eyes although ] have never.
f"r various reasons. spoken O. il 10 any one
before
The Ola clergyman hesirstoi moment.
and sat silently. while his friend regarded
him inqgir!rclv Then h. laughed in
somewhat cynhar-a ssed fashion. "Wel.'' he
said. Il Will ''ll tie tale. ! confess it -
such . revelation Of my inmos- memory
thar jt goes against the grain Of my New
England reserve. ami I viii add, also. that
! might wfth reason hesitate. with any
otha- auditor. since the telling might cast
Doubt ou nv own rcracity. ! Will tell
8, and sou SHALL according tn your own
judgment, attribute II 20 a strained and
morbid religions fancy. or class it among
the folklore superstiticus Of mountain
ous country. whose very atmosphere and
ell the aspects o. nature condIce 10 weird
Imagination. 7 will tell the tale just as
remember il. Il was fifty years ago, hut
NV memory concerning il is much clearer
than with respect to events Of the last
ten years. both because Of the indelibility
Of It's nature and the well-kaown peculiar
tty Of the human mind in that respect.
J ut happened. as l have said. fifty years
ago, when I was young man l was in my
second year al the divinity school. hut had
been forced TO drop out for a season for
sheer lacg Of funds. | had worked my way
through college. with only q few hats b.
the Way. and had managed the two years
~ iudgver. Then Il WAS either starve or
stop work. ! was down to my last dollar.
] had no one tn whom ! could look for help.
My father was an OLD man. ana nearly
starving himself on a meager salary and
the scaUty produce of the little New Eng
land farm which cked oft his living A
word from me and he would have mott
gagged it. hut ] would have given W my
calling rather thar had that happen. II was
sore trial 70 drop out for year. but
there was nothing else 10 be done. for my
rnoTey was gone. and I tried to make the
best of +. and >~ia-c myself with the reso-
lgtinB 10 work hard. In the hope that
might after al be able 20 pass the exarni-
nations and not fall behind my class And
that came II pass with the help of God
hut that = not the story.
1t Was fifty years ago. at Just about this
time oi tac wear. II actually this same
week % October. ana this same day of the
tsek. though MOI If rho month. <T;tft II was
precisely such dav. FAR as rho weather |
and IN the natural conditions went, This |
seems AZ exact repetition. 80 much so that |
ever since morning l have seemed TO be liv-
ing in tho past. It seems to me that an ar ;
tist painting a phase OF the landscape to-day