The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1935-02-01

| Farewell n
Published by Special Arrangement With The
Chicago Tribune-New York New Syndicate, Inc.
(oopyright in all countries BY the author. Re-
(PART ONE)
YOUNG ADAM YESTREEN, SCOTS
MINISTER, TELLS OF THE RE-
MOTE VILLAGE IN WHICH HE
HAS COME TO LIVE, AND
OF THE STRANGE SPIRITS
THAT HAUNT IT IN WINTER
A DELIGHTFUL TWO PART
STORY BY A MODERN
MASTER.
1. THE ENGLISH
This is Dec. /, 1856; I think it pru-
dent to go nc nearer to the date, in
case what I am writing should take an
Ill turn or fall into curious hands. I
need not be so guarded about the
weather. It is a night Of sudden blasts
that half an hour ago threw my win
dow at me. They went skirling from
room to room, like officers of the law
seeking to seize and deliver to justice
the venturesome Scots minister who is
sitting here ready to impeach all
wraiths and warlocks. There was an
other blast the now. I believe I could
rope the winds of the manse to my
bidding tonight and, by running from
door to door, opening and shutting,
become the conductor of a gey sinister
orchestra.
I am trying to make a start at the
diary the English have challenged me
to write. There is no call to begin to-
night, for as yet not a flake has fallen
in this my first winter in the glen, and
the diary is to be a record of my life
here during the weeks cts said, it may
be months) in which the glen is clock
ed" meaning it may be so happit in
snow that no one who is in can get out
of it, and no who is out can get in.
Then, according to the stories that
crawl like mists among our hills, where
the English must have picked them up,
come forms called the "S%trangers." You
"go queer" yourself without knowing it,
and walk and talk with them, thinking
they are of your world till maybe they
have mischieved you. It is all, of
course, superstitious havers, bred of
folk who are used to the travail of out
of doors and take i'll with having to
squat by the saut-bucket, but I have
promised with a smile to keep my eyes
and ears intent for tergiversations
among my flock, and to record them
for the benefit of the English when
they come back next August. Possibly
there will be very little snow for, it's
said, the white winters sometimes jump
a year OF two, which must be vexations
to the Strangers.
My name is the Rev. Adam Yes
treen, and to be candid I care not for
the Adam with its unfortunate associa-
lions. I am 26 years of age and, though
long in the legs, look maybe younger
than is seemly in my sacred calling, be-
ing clean-shaven without any need to
use an implement; indeed, I may say
I have desisted for two years back. My
congregation would naturally have lik-
ed me to have a beard.
I took a fair degree at st. Andrews,
but my intellectuals suffered from an
dOO1CGloll W puCClllS away lily UOOhS
and playing on the fiddle. My proper
course was to have got rid of that fid-
die when I made my entry into the glen,
walking for six miles with sinful pride
behind three carloads of furniture, all
my own, but I have not the moral
strength. When the English discover
ed how ashamed I was of my old back
sliding with this instrument they had
the effrontery to prig with me to give
them a tune, but I hope it is unneces-
sary for me to say that they had to
retire discomfited. I have never once
performed on the fiddle here, though
I may have taken 1t out of its case
nows and nan to fondle the strings.
What I miss, when my unstable mind
is on the things of this world, is not
SO much my own poor performances
as not hearing the songs themselves,
the more homely Scottish lifts, for of
course the old reprehensible songs that
kow-tow to the Stewards find no as
YUM with me.
Though but half a Highlander, I have
the Gaelic sufficiently to be able to
preach in it NICE every Sabbath, as en-
joined; but the attendances are small,
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