The Elk Mountain pilot., 1920-07-29
CHAPTER !.
The Night Of tho seaeons.


The Night Of the eeacons.
It IL strange to me, Jack Calder Of
West Inch, to feel that though now,
In the very center of the nineteenth
century. am but five-and-f1fty years
Of age. and though it is only once a
week, perhaps. that my wife can
pluck out little gray bristle from
over my ear. yet have lived in a time
when the thoughts and the ways Of
men were as different as though 1t
were another planet from this. For
when walk in my fields can see,
down Berwick way, the little fiuffs of
white smoke which tell me of this
strange, new, hundred-legged beast
with Goals for food and a thousand
men in its belly, forever crawling over
the border. On shiny day can see
the CLINT Of the brass work as 1t takes
the curve near Corriemuir. And then,
as 1 look out to sea, there is the same
beast again, or a dozen of them, may
be. leaving a trail of black in the air
and Of white in the water, and swim
ming In the face Of the wind as cas-
lily as salmon up the Tweed. Such
a sight as that would have struck my
good old father speechless with wrath
as well as surprise, for he was SO
stricken with the fear of offending the
Creator that he was chary Of contra
dieting Nature, and always held the
new thing to be nearly akin to the
blasphemous. As long as God made
the horse, and a man, down Birming-
ham way. the engine, my good old dad
would have stuck by the saddle and
the spurs.
When he died we had been fighting
with scarce a break, save for two short
years, for very nearly a quarter of
century. Babies who were born In the
war grew to be bearded men with ba-
bies Of their own, and still the war
continued. Those who had served ane
fought in their stalwart prime grew
stiff and bent, and yet the ships and
the armies were struggling. During
that long time we fought the Dutch,
we fought the Danes, we fought the
Spanish, we fought the Turks. we
fought the Americans, we fought the
Montevideans, until it seemed that in
this universal struggle no race was
too near Of kin or too far away to be
drawn into the quarrel. But most Of
all It was the French whom we fought,
and the man whom Of all others we
loathed and feared and admired was
the great captain who ruled them.
It was very well to draw pictures Of
him. and sing songs about him, and
make as though he were an impostor,
but I can tell you that the fear of that
man hung like a black shadow over
all Europe, and that there was a time
when the CLINT Of fire at night upon
the coast would set every woman
upon her knees and every man grip
ping for his musket He had always
won. That was the terror Of 1t. The
fates seemed to be behind him. And
now we know that he lay upon the
northern coast with a hundred and
fifty thousand veterans. and the boats
for their passage. But 1t Is an old
story how a third Of the grown folk
of our country took up arms, and how
our little one-eyed, one-armed man
crushed their fleet There was still
to be q land Of free thinking and free
speaking in Europe.
There was a great beacon ready on
the hill by Tweedmouth, built up of
logs and tar barrels. and can well
remember how night after night
strained my eyes to see II 1t were
ablaxe. was only eight at the time,
but It Is an age when one takes a
grief to heart, and felt as though
the fate Of the country hung in some
fashion upon me and my vigilance
And then one night as looked sud.
denly saw a little flicker on the bea-
con hill-a single red tongue of fame
In the darkness. And then the fame
shot higher, and I saw the red, quiv
ering line upon the water beyond, and
I dashed into the kitchen, screeching
to my father that the French had
crossed and the Tweedmouth light was
afiame. can see him now as he
knocked his pipe out at the side Of the
fire, and looked at me from over the
top Of his horn spectacles.
"Are you sure, Jockf" says he.
"Sure as DEATH" gasped.
He reached out his hand for the
Bible upon the table and opened II
upon his knee as though he meant to
read to us, but he shut 1t again in
silence and hurried out. We went
down to the gate which opens out
upon the highway. From there we
could see the red light Of the big bea-
con. and the glimmer of a smaller one
to the north Of us at Ayton. The old
road had more folk on 1t than ever
passed along It at night before, fol-
many Of the yeomen up our way had
enrolled themselves and were riding
nov as fast a. hoof coule carry then
for the muster. Some had stirrup cup
or two before parting. and I cannot