Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1916-05-19

inOniLluP Win IHe tHelLlnS SLTdlnS Oh
the thrush-some sweet, long-ago
melody of the heart-pouring out
the pent-up feelings of distilled
tears, stepped in love and sorrow,
symphonious with the signing hem
locks and the mourning pine. Thus
the hermit, Gamaliel Loring re-
vealed himself to the hushed soli-
tudeS of the listening trees, and to
the mystery of human ears. In his
solitude he seemed to feel the infu-
ence of the spirit of the wood, whis-
pering peace be still; and the wood
thrush and rill sang lullaby to his
sad heart. 1t was in the bleak win
ter when the mountain roads were
blocked with impossible drifts of
snow, that Doctor HopewelI, the
mountain Doctor, started out very
early one morning to visit patients
on the mountain. He drove as far
as the roads were passable in his
low. high-back mountain sleigh, and
then strapped on snowshoes, and
with medicine trunk in hand,
wended his way over the deep banks
and drifts of snow, across stumpy
clearings and through thick woods,
to get to the humble door of his
anxious patients, whose spirits would
revive, when from out over the
deep drifts, or issuing from the hid
ing wood, they beheld the doctor
coming painting to their relief. On
this day of the doctors mission of
comforting others he went out of
his way a good distance to enquire
after the health of the hermit OF
the hemlocks, as he was Familiarity
called, having learned from a dis
tant neighbor that he had not been
seen out of his fastness for a much
longer time than was his wont to
appear. Doctor Hopewell felt in
his heart a deep pity for the poor
solitary, and had discerned in him
golden virtues, darkly hidden in the
ore of misfortune, and concealing
circumstances. He came to the SOL
itary cabin deeply embarked with
snow, in the midst Of the thick
standing hemlocks. There was no
! path to the door, no tracks of hu-
man feet to be seen; only the tiny
tracks of rabbits and squirrels dot
ted the pure whiteness of the fir en-
closure no smoke was seen issuing
from the low chimney. He paused,
listened but only the creaking of
snoW-burdened limbs and the sigh
ing and moaning Of the ice-be-
spangled fir trees, and the tap, tap,
of the gwood-pecker and the faint
gurgle of the waters of the noun
tain brook deep under the SHOWS
awed his ear. All was the stiffness
of mountain solitude in winter. To
all appearance the little cabin had
been long deserted. The doctor
turned to retrace his steps, wonder
ing what had become of the occu-
pant of the cabin. He had gone
but few rods when he stopped and
said to himself, I won't go away
from here until | know for an abso-
lutte fact that he is not in his cabin,
if Jean get into it. 1t isn't at all
probable that he is in there, but |
am going to find out if possible
Thus soliloquizing, he came to the
door. raped; no response; then he
hallooed and pounded on the door;
no answer; then with all his strength
he pushed on the door and succeed
ed in breaking the slender wooden
pin that fastened it. AS he entered
he heard a faint moan, and on low
couch on the opposite side of the
room behind the stove, he found the
poor hermit with a raging fever,
and delirious with smallpox; proba-
bly, caught from the infected cloth
ing of some rowing half-breed from
Canada, stopping to ask for food
and nights lodging. The doctor set
about to minister to the poor suf-
ferer; he first kindled a fire and got
the house warm, and a kettle of
water boiling, and then took a pail