The Connecticut labor press. (New Haven, Conn.) 191?-1921, 1920-07-17
CHAPTER |.
The MIGHT of the Reaeons.


1t is strange to me, Jack Calder Of
West Inch, to feel that though now,
in the very center of the nineteenth
century, I am but five-and-ffty years
of age, and though it is only once
week, perhaps, that my wife can
pluck out a little gray bristle from
over my ear, yet have lived in time
when the thoughts and the ways Of
men were as different as though 1T
were another planet from this. For
when I walk In my fields l can see,
down Berwick way, the little tufts 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 a shiny day can see
the curve near Corriemuir. And then.
as look out to sea, there Is the same
beast again. or 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
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 break, save for two short
years, for very nearly 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 and
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.
1t was very we'll 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 black shadow over
nd hot tine
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 it. 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 it 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 a 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 might I
strained my eyes to see If it were
abIaze- I 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 I looked I sud-
denly little flicker the bea-
con hi11-a single red tongue of flame
In the darkness. And then the flame
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
af1ame. I 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, JOCkl" says he.
"Sure as DEATH" I gasped.
He reached out his hand for the
Bible upon the table and opened it