Waterbury evening Democrat., 1905-01-12

TER"
 slaves and rafts of timber brought
 cash, but no other products of the
 early settler Late that fall my mother
 gave dance, rude but hearty pleas
 uring that followed a long conference
 in which my father had part. They all agreed to turn to, after snowfall, on
 the river-land, cut a raft of timber, and send it to Montreal in the spring. Our things had come, including D'ri's fiddle, so that We had chairs and bed steads and other accessories of life not common among our neighbors. My mother had few jewels and some fine old furniture that her father had given her-really beautiful things, have since come to know-and she showed them to those simple folk with a mighty pride in her eyes.
 Business over, D'ri took down his fiddle, that hung on the wall, and made the strings roar as he tuned them. Then he threw his long right leg over the other, and, as he drew the bow, his big foot began to pat the floor good pace away. His chin lifted, his fingers flew, his bow quickened, the notes seemed to whirl and scurry, light-footed as rout of fairies. Mean while the toe of his right boot counted the increasing tempo until it came up and down like a ratchet.
 Darius Olin was mostly of slow and sober manner. To cross his legs and feel fiddle seemed to throw his heart open and put him in full gear. Then his thoughts were quick, his eyes merry, his heart was fountain of joy. He would lean forward, sway ing his head, and shouting "Yip!" as the bow hurried. D'ri was a hard working man, but the feel of the fid- dle warmed and limbered him from toe to finger. He was over-modest, rfaking Tight of his skill if he ever sroke of it. and had no ear for a com Rliments While our elders were dapc- ing and others of my age were play ing games in the kitchen-kissing- games with rush and tumble in them, puss-in-the-corner, hunt-the-squirrel and the like. Even then I thought I was in love with pretty Rose Mer- riman. She would never let me kiss her. even though l had caught her and had the right.
 My mother gave me all the school ing I had that winter A year later they built schoolhouse, not quite a mile away, where I found more fun than learning. After two years I my ax and went to the with the choppers every win- ter morning.
 My father was stronger than any of them except D'ri, who could drive his ax to the bit every blow, day after day. He had the strength of giant, and no man l knew tried ever to cope with him. By the middle of May we began rolling in for the raft. As soon as they were floating. the logs were withed together and moored in sec tions. The bay became presently a quaking, redolent plain of timber.
 When we started the raft, early in June. that summer of 1S1O. and worked it into the broad river with sweeps and poles. l was aboard with D'ri and six other men, bound for the big city of which had heard so much. l was to visit the relatives of my mother and spend year in the College de St. Pierre. We had little frame house on big platform. back of the middle section of the raft. with hunks in it, where we ate and slept and told stories. Lying on the platform there was a large fiat stone that held our fires for both cooking and comfort. D'ri called me in the dusk of the early morning, the first night out, and said We were near the Sault. got up, rubbed my eyes. and felt a mighty thrill as l heard the roar of the great rapids and the creaking withes, and felt the lift of the speeding waters. D'ri said they had broken the raft u. The roaring grew louder. until my shout was as a whisper in a hurricane. The logs began to heave and fall. and waves came rushing through them. Sheets of spray shot skyward, coming down like a shower. We were shaken as by an earthquake fin the rough wa ter. Then the roar fell back of us. and the raft grew steady.
 Gin us a tough twist said D'n. shouting down at me-"kind uv a twis. O the bit n kick n the side"
 It was coming daylight as we sailed into still water. and then D'ri put his hands to his mouth and hailed loudly. getting an answer out of the gloom ahead
 "Gol-dum ef It hain't the power uv . thousan' painters,- D'ri continued. laughing as he spoke. Never see nothin' jump n kick n spit like the, air. Tess it he'd fur on-never n all my born days
 D'ri's sober face showed dimly nov In the dawn His hands wers on his hips: his faded felt hat was tipped His boots and trousers were quarreiing over that disputed ter ritory between his knees and ankles. His boots had checked the invasios-
 -an0nfA yater nou.-aA he.