The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1914-11-20

f ~Sunnybrook Farm"
the great saws buzzed. the smoke from
tavern chimneys rose in the air. and
the rattle and clatter Of stagecoaches
resounded along the road.
Now children padded with bare feet
In the rivers sandy and shall
lows, and lovers sat or its alder shaded
banks and exchanged their vow Just
where the shutting bear was wont to
come down and drink.
The Saco could remember the "cold
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 its 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 were engulfed
In the dark whirlpool below the rapids.
Caravans, with menagerles 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 FOSTERING
rum drinkers who were tantalizing the
animals foated down to the rivers
edge. The oar of a lion. tearing and
chewing the arm Of one of the by.
ISLANDERS, and the cheers of the throng
when a plucky captain Of the local
militia thrust a stake down the beasts
throat-these sounds displaced the for
mer ~warwhoop Of the Indians and the
ring of the ak 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 worshiping. the band Of "COch-
ranites" marched down the dusty road
and across the bridge, dancing. sway
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 e
with its story Of the present that was
some time to be the history Of the past.
When Jacob Cochrane was leading
his overweight. ecstatic band across
the river. Waitstll Baxter. then a
child was watching the strange, noisy
company from the window of a little
brick dwelling on the top Of the Town
House hill.
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, Waitstill: your "a
Their don't like it,"
"Who was the big man at the head.
mother?"
His name is Jacob Cochrane. but
you mustn't think or talk about him.
He is very wicked"
HE 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
over him? Why did he fall. and
why did she pray. mother"
THAT was Master Aaron BoyntOn.
the schoolmaster. and his wife. He
only made believe to fall down. al the
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"
II played with a nice boy Over to
Boynton's." unused the child.
THAT was Ivory. their only child.
He is a good little fellow, but his
mother and father will spoil him with
their crazy ways"
II hope nothing will happen to him.
for l love him." said the child gravely
HE showed me a humming birds nest.
the first ! ever saw and the ~littlest"
Don't talk about loving him." child
ed the woman. III your father should
hear you he'd send you to bed without
your porridge."
Father couldn't hear me. for l never
speak when he's at home" said grave
little Waitstill. "And I'm used to going
to bed without my porridge."
The river was still running under the