Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1914-08-19


She sat Down TO neau rne fIFsf Com
nunication She Had Ever Received
! In lvory's Handwriting.
ed paper from her pocket, the first
communication she had ever received
/ in Ivory's handwriting, and sat down
| to read it:
My Dear Waitstill-Rodman will take
| this packet and leave it with you when he
i finds opportunity. 1t is not in any real
| sense letter, so am in no danger of in
| curing your fathers displeasure. You
/ will probably have heard new rurnorS con-
| corning my father during the past few
| days, for Peter Morrill, has been to En-
| field. n. H, where he says letters have
| been received stating that my father died
| in Cortland. o., more than five years ago.
l shall do what l can to substantiate this
fresh report, as L have always done with
all the previous ones. but 1 have little
hope of securing reliable Information at
this distance and after this length OF
time. 1 do not know when 1 can ever
start on a personal quest myself. for even
had the money / could no. leave home
until Rocman is much older and fitted for
greater responsibility. On, Waitstill, how
you have helped my poor, dear mother!
Would that ! were free to tell you how
1 value your friendship! 1t is something
more than mere friendship. What you
are doing is like throwing a life line to a
sinking human being. Two or three times
of late mother has forgotten to set out
the supper things for my father Her ten
years inceSsant waiting for him seems to
have subsidized a little and in its place she
watches for you. Ivory had written
watches for her daughter" but carefully
erased the last two words.l You come but
seldom, but her heart feeds on the sight
of you. What she needed. it seems. was
the magical touch of youth and health and
strength and sympathy. the qualities you
possess in such great measure.
If / had proof of my fathers death
think now perhaps that I might try to
break il gently to my mother, as If it
were fresh news and see if possibly
might thus remove her principal halluci-
nation. You see now. do you not, how
sane she 10 in many-indeed in most ways
how sweet and lovable, even how sensi-
BILE?
To help you better to understand the in
fiuence that has robbed me of both father
and mother and made me and mine the
subject of town and tavern gossip for
years past 1 have written for you just
Il sketch of the 'Cochrape craze" the ro-
mantle story of man who swayed the
wills of his fellow creatures in truly
marvellous manner. Some local historian
OF his time will doubtless give him more
space My wish is to have you know
something more of the circumstances that
have made ME prisoner in life instead
OF n free man. But, prisoner as am at
the moment, 1 am sustained just now by
new courage. l read in my copy or
Ovid last night. 1.-The best of weapons is
the undaunted heart" This will help you,
too. in your hard life, for yours is the |
most undaunted heart in all the world.
IVORY BOYNTON.
The chronicle of Jacob Cochrane's |
career in the little villages near the |
Saco river has no such interest for the |
general reader as it had for Waitstill |
Baxter. She hung upon every word |
that Ivory had written and realized |
more clearly than ever before the |
shadow that had followed him since
early boyhood-the same shadow that |
had fallen across his mothers mind |
and left continual twilight there.
No one really knew, it seemed, why
or from whence Jacob C0chrane had
come to Edgewood. He simply APP
peared at the old tavern a stranger.
with satchel in hand. to seek enter
tainment Uncle Bart had often de
scribed this scene to WaitStill. for he
was one OF those sitting about the
great open fire at the time. The man
easily slipped into the group and soon
took the lead in conversation. delight
ing all with his agreeable personality,
his nimble tongue and graceful speech.
At supper time the hostess and the
rest of the family took their places at
the long table, as was the custom. and
he astonished them by his knowledge
not only of town history. but OF village
matters they had supposed unknown
20 any one.
When the stranger had finished his
supper and returned to the barroom he
had TO pass through q long entry, ana
the iandlady, whispering TO her daugh-
ter. said:
Betsy, you go up to the chamber
closet and get the silver and bring it
down. This man is going TO sleep
there and 1 am afraid of him. He
must be a fortune teller, and the Lord
only knows what else!''
In going to the chamber the daugh-
Ter had TO pass through the barroom !
As she was moving quietly through.
hoping to escape the notice of the new
conner, he turned in his chair and,
cooking her full in the face, suddenly ,
aid:
Madam. you needn't touch your sill
yer. l don't want it. l am q gentle
nan"
Whereupon the bewildered Betsy
cuttled back to her mother and told
Ter the strange guest was indeed IA I
ortune teller. ;
or Cochrane's initial appearance as a
preacher Ivory had told Waitstin in
heir talk in the churchyard early in
lie summer. IL was ut IA childs fu-
Ieral that the new prophet created his
Irst sensation, and there, too, that