Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1904-07-08

vi " the quay. The wagon was r0Ofed
with black t%arpaulin, and on the side
was painted, in large white letters, John
Rudd, Carrier, st. Gurlott's..
On coming up to the vehicle, my con-
ductor paused and disposed of my trunk,
then, turning to me with a Come, young
master, jump in" he gave me a lift
which summary placed me inside and
on the top of my box; then, before 1
mad time to recover myself, | felt that
the wagon was jolting along.
we soon left Falmouth behind us, and
were moving cumbrously along the high
road. Looking to the right and to the
left could see nothing but undulating
sweeps of land, bleak and barren, with
the stony highway stretching before us.
We were travelling westward, evidently,
and, as far as prospect went, we might
be going forward into the Desert. There
was not a cart or horse or human being
to be seen anywhere.
1t was past midday, and the sun was
as hot as it had been any day that sum-
mer. AS l felt it scorching my face and
head, l looked at my companion, and
marveled again. His huge ulster coat
was buttoned up to his chin, and his
great round face was shaded by his
broad felt hat. He was by no means a
bad-looking man, and he was still young
only ~five-and-thirty, or th~ereabouts.
His skin was tanned and weather beaten,
and his eyes were liked upon the mare
with his habitual dreamy stare. Sud
denly he turned his glance slowly upon
me, and said:
II reckon you knaw a deal? 1 won
der nav, whether you can writer"
l answered with some decision that l
certainly could, at which 1 thought his
face fell.
Poetry, naw?" he inquired. "Warses
like"
1 replied that though I was able to
write a capital hand, l had only once
or twice aspired to original composition;
at which he chuckled delightedly, then,
fixing his eyes with a fascinating glare
upon my face, he repeated in a high,
shrill voice the following lines:
ITO Missus Pendragon, who's always so
pleasant,
John Rudd, of st. Gurlott, brings this
little present.
May her life be as sweet as best sugar
can be,
And the only hot water be mixed wi
her teal"
"What do you think O. thatT' he asked
anxiously.
Every good" I replied. "Where did
you read it? In a book"
II didn't read 'un, master, I wrote
'un," he replied. "Leastways, I should
ha' wrote 'un if 1 could write. Nav,
you'm a smart chap, pr'aps you could
take them lines DAWN
"Of course 1 could" I replied. Where
upon I produced a pencil from my waist
coat pocket, and, asking Mr.. Rudd to
repeat the verse again, l Transcribed it
on the back of an old letter.
do you make much poetry?" I asked.
"a goodish Bit" he replied, "least-
ways, 1 should if I'd allus a smart 'un
like you at hand to take 'un down. IT'S
a gift. 1t all began when | were a lad,
a-driving up and dawn Falmouth way WI
father. Then 1 used to hear the old
wagon go 'tum to tum' alawng the road,
and the warses they came and kept time.
To think O. the thousands of bootiful
pOihCo L Ia uluuty Iucy u lhdhC u war
lum; and I've got 'em all here in my
head, thick as bees in a beehive, all a
buzzing together, one atop a. t'other."
DO you live at st. Gurlott's, Mr..
RuddT"
"Iss, young MASTER; 1 drives this here
van three times a week to Falmouth and
back"
The warm day was succeeded by a
cold evening, and with the darkness had
come rain. l was glad to follow John
Rudd's example, to wrap myself we'll up
in my overcoat. We jolted on, covering
what seemed to me an interminable
space. The darkness rapidly increased,
the rain continued to fall, and, worn out
with fatigue, 1 fell into a ftful doze.
l was dimly conscious of the wagon
rolling on, of occasional disjointed re-
marks, rhythmical in character, when
John Rudd's voice aroused me.
"Wawk up, young MASTER" said he;
WEN gettin' pratty nigh your place."
1 reused myself and looked about me,
but there was nothing to be seen. Dark
ness encompassed us on every hand; the
wind was signing softly, making a sound
like the distant murmur of the sea. Pres
emily the wagon stopped. The carrier
jumped down; then he gave a peculiar
whistle as he went round to the back of
the wagon to haul out my trunk. The
darkness was suddenly penetrated by a
light, which seemed quite close to us, and
a mans voice called out in a broad
try dialect:
"Be that you, John RuddT"
"Iss, mate" returned Rudd. "You
katch hold O. the young gentleman. l
ha' gawt the bawx."
"Be this the lad? asked the voice, as
l felt a heavy hand laid upon my shout
der. WAL, my lad, you be welcome
to st. Gurlott's."
The hand kept hold Of my shoulder
and led me along. The next thing l be-
came conscious of was standing upon the
threshold of an open door, and of the
voice Of my guide saying heartily: