Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-01-17
WORLD FAMOUS STORIES
THE BLACKSMITH
BY EMILE lola

ursIste novelist. author thor Of The Attack on
the Mill Mana" "A Bath" etc.
The blacksmith was a giant of
fellow, the biggest In the neighborhood.
His shoulders were knotty, and his face
and arms were black from the flames of
the forge and the dust from the iron Of
the hammers. His eyes were great and
blue like child's. and clear as steel.
His heavy jaw vibrated with laughter
and with his heavy breathing. much
like the putting and jolly creaking OF his
huge bellows. And he was proud Of his
strength.
For a year I lived with the black
smith. 1t was my year of convalescence.
had been left without heart. with
out my head; 1 had been in search of
place where could recover my vigor
and energy with quiet work. At this
point in my life I CHANGED upon the
blacksmiths forge, blazing into the
night, the cadence of the hammers re-
sounding half league away.
That Autumn evening / saw the
blacksmith for the first time. He was
busily forging plowshare. His shirt
was open, displaying his splendid chest;
his ribs, at each breath, marked the
machine-like frame which was being
put to the supreme test Of strength.
His muscles showed marvellous CO.
ordination. The hammer would swing
in perfect circle-carrying sparks with
1t and leaving a flash behind 1t.
This giant hammer weighed Is
pounds. The blacksmith called 1t his
young lady" He was the only man
between Vernon and Rouen who could
set her dancing. The blacksmith WELD
ed her readily enough with both hands,
while his Strapping son held the iron In
pincers to receive each mighty blow.
"Tock. took, tock!" 1t sounded. like
the grave voice of a mother encourag-
ing the early lisping of her child
The young lady continued her
| waltz, vibrating the spangleS of her
gown and leaving the imprint of her
heels in the plowshare she was fashion
ing as each time she rebounded from
| the anvil.
They stopped. The blaze died away
I could hear the blacksmith painting,
but he did not even trouble to wipe the
perspiration from his brow. He stood
there. his heavy breath mingling with
the bellows, which his son was still
slowly drawing.
| I slept at the blacksmiths that night
and became fixture there. Mine was
a vacant room upstairs over the forge.
From S o'clock in the mOrning-before
daybreak-I was intimately associated
| II the young lady" forced me out of
bed by knocking against the ceiling
which was my floor-and calling me all
kinds of lazy young fellow. The room
would creak and tremble all over, max
ing me hurry.
Below the forge would be already
ablaze. The bellows purred. Blue and
white flames crept from the Goals. A
round star shone in the center, fed by
the breath Of the bellcr'1 The black
smith was buSily getting his work for
the day in place-moving iron about,
turning over plows, examining wheels.
| The blacksmith would spy me with q
great laugh and say 1t did me good to
| live among old iron.
Often would spend a whole day at
the forge, especially in Winter. when 1t
was bad weather. I was interested in
the work. The constant struggle be-
tween the blacksmith and raw iron
pleased and fascinated my imagination.
I would follow the metal with my eyes
| from furnace to anvil. It continually
surprised me by the way it changed
being bent, extended, rolled like some
pi,ce Of soft wax in the hands Of q
child. When the pillow was completed
1 knelt down before it, no longer able
to recognize the shapeleSs mass that
metal had been on the day before.
The blacksmith was never heard to
complain. In the evening he could be
seen laughing heartily, after having
beaten iron into shape for IA long hours
at his hot forge. He would rub his
arms with an air of great satisfaction.
He was never sad. never seemed to be
| weary. In the Winter he would say
that it was nice and warm in his shop.
In the Summer he flung wide the door
to let in the perfume of the hay fields
Too, the blacksmith often joked. He
would say that all the land he could
see from near his forge belonged to him,
that his forge had supplied the plows
which had titled 1t for 200 years. That
was his pride No crop could grow
| without his help. II the plain was
green in May and golden In July, that
| change of color was due to his strength
| Often would he watch up and down
| the road to see his plowshares biting
| into the land The valley was full of
| them. He knew in what year he had
| fashioned each plow which made each
patch Of oats or rye. He would often