The daily telegram. [volume] (Clarksburg, W. Va.) 1901-1926, 1914-04-28
of :" Rebecca of st1rlr1ybrook Farm =
= Sci -3@ss -

year," when there was a black frost
every month of the twelve. and.
though almost all the corn along its
shores shriveled on the stalk, there
were two farms where the vapor from
the river saved the crops, and all the
seed for the next season came from the
favored spot. to be. known as Egypt
from that day henceforward.
Strange. complex things now began
to happen, and the river played it's own
part in some OF these. for there were
disastrous freshets, the sudden break
ing up, OF great jams OF logs and the
drowning Of men who we're engulfed
IN the dark whirlpool below the rapids.
Caravans, with menageries Of wild
beasts, crossed the bridge now every
year An infatuated elephant lifted the
side of the old Edgewood tavern barn.
and the wild laughter of the rofsterins
rum drinkers who were tantaIizing the
animals ffoated down to the rivers
edge. The roar of a lion, tearing and
chewing the arm OF one OF the by
standers, and the cheers Of the tnrong
when a piucky captain OF the local
militia thrust stake down the beasts
throat-these sounds displaced the for
mer WarwhOop OF the Indians and the
ring of the ar IN the virgin forests
along the shores
There were days-and moonlight
nights. too, when strange sights and
sounds of quite another nature could
have been noted BY the river as 1t
flowed under the bridge that united
the two little villages.
Issuing from the door Of the River
boro townhouse and winding down the
hill through the long row Of teams and
carriages that lined the roadside. came
a procession of singing men and sing
ing women. Convinced OF sin, but en-
tranced with promised pardon. spiritu-
ally Intoxicated by the glowing elo.
quence OF the latter day prophet they
were worshipihg! the band OF. .'Coch-
,ranites'' marched down the dusty road
and across the butdge. dnncinG. sway
ing, waving handkerchiefs and shout.
ing hoSannas.
God watched and listened, knowing
that there would be other prophets
true and false. in the days to come.
and other professions following them.
And the river watched and listened
too, as it hurried on toward the sea
with its story OF the present that was
some time to be the history Of the past.
When Jacob Cochrane was leading
his overwrought, ecstatic band across
the river. Waitstill Baxter, then a
child was watching the strange. noisy
company from the window OF little
brick dwelling on the top Of the Town
House bill.
Her stepmother stood beside her
with a young baby in her arms. but
when she saw what held the gaze OF
the child she drew her away, saying,
we mustn't look, Waitst1ll; your "a
Their don't like it,
WHO was the big man at the head,
mother?'
Ills name is Jacob Cochrane. but
Won mustn't think or talk about him.
He is very wicked
ssHe doesn't look any wickeder than
the Others" said the child. Who was
the man that fell down in the road,
mother. and the woman that knelt and
prayed over him: why did he fall. and
why did she pray, motherT
That was Master Aaron Boynton,
the schooImaster and his wife. He
only made believe to fall down, as the
Cochfanites do: the way they carry on
Is a disgrace to the village. and that's
the reason your father won't let us
look at them"
At played with a nice boy over TO
Boynton's.s' unused the child.
'eThat was Ivory. their only child.
He is good little fellow, but his
mother and father Will spoil hiLn with
their crazy ways
II hone nothing Will happen to him,
for / love him. said the child gravely.
He showed me hunming birds nest.
the drst 1 ever saw, and the littlest"
''Don't faIk about loving him." child
ed the woman. .'tf your father should
hear you he'd send you to bed without
your porridse."
.sFather couldn't hear me. for never
speak when he's at home" said grave
little waitstiII. "And I'm used to going
to bed without my porridge
The river vas still running Under the
Drldge. but the current Of time had
swept Jacob Cochrane out of sight.
though not out OF mind, for he bad left
here and there a disciple TO preach his
strange and uncertain doctrine Wait
stiIl, the child who never spoke IN her
fathers presence. was a young woman
now, the mistress OF the house; the
stepmother was dead and the baby q
girl OF seventeen.
The brick cottage on the hilltop had
grown only n little shabbier. Deacon
FoxweiI Iazter still slammed It's door
behind him every morning Of O'Clock
and. without any such cheerful conven-
lions rs goodbys to his girls, walked
down to the fridge Ia open bis store
,..,s- -. 7, ! - y psyu