The Story Of Jock Williston

" Some of our folks go over to tbe Island to meeting to-day ; you'd like to go along, mayoe!'" queried our host at breakfast on the inorning of our secoud Sunday at L . "To the Island? Delightful ! Let us go, of courae !" " It's a good piece of walking frooi the landing to the church, you know." " How far 't" " About two miles - up hill and down dale." " Only two miles ! A mere nothing !" we chorused, smiling at eaoh other as we remembered how intpassable two miles of our native pavement tnight have seemed on that midsummer day. But here, with the wooing note of the sea in our eara, and the strength of the salt air tingling through our veins, what might we uot do and daré 'í So light was tho breeze, as we stood waiting on the beach, that we scaroely telt it strike our raised hands : yet the little boat which came to take us off caught the soft breath in her sails, and wafted us ucross the channel geutly aud noiselessly as a spirit. I need not pausu to describe the walk that followed, although we remembered it long afterward with keen dulight. The undulating slopes robed with spruce and fir of tuarvelous symmetry and oulor; the gray outcrop of liiuestone rock ronding the crisp carpet of short grass, and dry, brown inoss spread along the roadeide ; the half-score little coves of wondrous beauty, where fleets of snmll boats, like white-winged water iowl, rocked ■ luzily at anchor, and the blue water plushed softly upon tiny islets, whosc quiiiut rock-vvork was veüed and garlanded by creep.ing vines and noddiiïg barebel U; and- far off- the line where sky and oocan met, euibracing all with suggestions of the infinite harmony ;- all 1 these, then aluiost unprofaned, ave gruwu familiar in these later years, even to most careless eyes. The small, white church, with its odd nupola and slowiy swinging bell, carne in mght at lengtb, crowning the satnmit of a gent lo elvation. Entering, wo tooit our plnce ïnong the worshipers. The greater part ut the simple discouren I have long sinee furgotten, bat the closing worda, spoken in the low, musical voiceof the preacher, as hu bentabove the pulpit rail, sound in mv niemory still : " He.ar, then, once more, the words of the text : ' That was lbo true Light, which hghteth every mau that oomelh into the world.' SoDietiuiee, my br thren, we look long tbr the brightuess of that liting.- Bren the eyes that roteb tot the morn ing may scarce disceru night from dawn. Yet there is no soul butsoine time -somewhere- stands in the thining of that Light. Every. sacrifiee of self, every vic tory of love, is but its broken reflection. (iod iorbid that any one of you, having feit the divine radiance, should go away again into the outer darkness ! ' A hymn was sung, the fe-.vent blessing asked, and, passing out with the congregatiou, we turned aside into the vara, to spend the hour of noouday intermissiou. Strolling about anión" the quiet graves, many of which. espeeially the resting -places of littlo children, were strewn tenderly with bright-hued shells and pebbles, ruy attention was arrested by the contrast between the luw, plainly carvt-d stones around ine, and a tal], sltmder shaft of the purest Italian marble, nsing fiom a solid grunite pedestal a ]ittle distance beyor.d. Drawing nearer I read in beautif ully embossed characteru ; Iü momorv of JOCK WILLISTOX, "Who cama to himself, aud tohis JPather's House, On C.iristmas Day, 1840. ' They that sat in darkness saio a great light.' The brief epitaph, beneath whose quaint phrase ome unusual siguifieauce seeuied concealed, aroused in me a strong desire to kuow more of the quiet sleeper below. The wish must have been unconsciously betrayed in my countenance, tbr a wrinkled, kindly faced oíd lady, who sat upon a bench neur by, with an open lunch büskét, aud two rosy graiulchildren at lier knee, buddeuly beckoned me to a place beside her, saying, as if ia answer to a spoktn question. " The woids do seem odd for a gravestoue, ms'am, but indeed the Lord's dealin s with poor Jock were past our fiudiu' out. You never heard teil of him I judge'r" " No,- but I have never been here before." " Likely enough,- and vet bvb nfciM v O ju UTC1V JLlill_l on the coast could teil you the story It was in the Portland papors, too- bnt- bless me! that must V been nigh tweuty years ago. No wonder you would'nt reinem ber." The old dame's eyes brightened, and she paused, as if to please herselt with the anticipation of an interested listener. ' You knew him, then, this Jock, as you oall him V" I hinted gently. " Knew him T' she answered with a musing swile. I dressed him the night he was born,- a strong-limbed, hearty bahe, with bright, black eyes, and hair as dark and curly as Jamio's here. That was Christmas Eve., and jnst one week atterward, on New Year's Ihiy, the brg Sea Oall foundered off the coast of Newfouudland, with Cap'n Williston and all his men, and so tht poor baby never saw his father's face. " Poor little Mis. Williston I I can see just how ehe looked, lyin' there day after day, as whitfi and helpless as a broken day-hly, with that little brown head tucked against her cheek ; 'twas only the baby' that kept her alive. She'd niake me hold him to the light a dozen times a day. 'You'ro sure his eyes won't turn any lighter, Mig Dawson?' she'd gay. You see the cap'n had a coal black eye. Anc then again, He grows, Mis. Dawson You thiuk he's very well, don't you 'f' in a Toice that wistful, that I had a inaste fight with uiyself to keep the w&tor ou uf my eye, instead of answering her u] right olieerful, Well P I should think ht did, the little cap'n ! And growiu' Look at that arm ! Why ! he'll be liftin his mother off the bed before she knows it !' Then ehe'd smile a little pale stnile and put hur two arma round uiy neck poor thing ! for she was acaree nioro'n a baby hers]f. " Well, the time passed on, and little Jock grew up, as brave and handsome a lad as you could wish to see, It was real sunshine to my eyes to see him walkin' alongside of his mothcr, drawin' himself up, and keepin' step with her like a growu man. So tender of her, too, he was, leavm'-all his mates for her it Bhe was alone, and forever layiu' out what he meant to, do for her whoa ho was a man. And' what with bein' so fond and proud of him she got to look, barrin' her black dress, aluiost the same as when the cap'n was alive. Ah, me ! I've tnought a many times since how merciful it is in the Lord to let us see so little wnys ahead. In the best óf times, we're only ships in a fog, and Ijave to steer by compiiss. .lüe summer Jock was twelveyenr old was amazin' siokly all along the coaat. I was nigb beat out nursin' 'Bijah Purter's wife throufrh tbe typhoid, and had ooiue home oue Wednesday afternoon to get a little rest. As I was lyin' on the loung, in a half-doze, the door opened, and Mis. Willisten coioe in. She never stopped nor sj oke, but come straight across the floor, with a face white as a ghost. Then she pat her hands on niy shoulders, and says she, 'Mis. Duwson, my Jock's got the fever.' I rose up like a tíash, and put my shawl over my head, and went home vifti her. And I never carne home, ma am, for seven weeks. Awesome weeks hey were, ma'am. The nights were vorst. I used to feel as"if we' two were fihtiu' Death hand to hand for that boy and he a tossiu' on the pillow, his red heeks sunk away, all his curly hair haved close to his head, and in all that ime never givin' us one reasonahla „,o,-.i , r look. It was the i'ourth week, when I ininded, one mornin', aa Mis. Wüliston at by the bed, that her hair was turniri' ut by the seventh ma'am, when the fever Jei't hito, it was as white as mine is now. "AU but the least breath of life was burnt out of hini, and when he did onoe begin to mend, it was so slow thut ittook usagroat wlnle to find out that any thmg was wrong. It como to me, fitst wheu I went into the bedroom, one aftcr noon, of u. suddeii. He didn't see me for a inmute, and Uid there a phtyin' with bis fingen,- than, all to once, he looked up and laughed ! That laugh I O ma'aiu ! all the rest was as nothin?to that' 1 just sunk down into a chair.and groaned, 'O liord! have merey on his mother'' ISot that !' "The Lord did have merey on her, but but nut m my way. He took her horae that next winter, and I've thought manv a time thut l'd like to 'a' been by when he èxplamed to her- as I'm certain he would -soma tilinga that we down here waited years and years for, and many mora belikes, that we'vg never found out at ál] " Poor httle Jock gut well again- in his body- tbat wb all. His mind was clean gone. He usod to go about gentle and ninuUssas a lamb. Whilst bis mother lived, he d íollow her every step she took but more nke a dog than a human child' 11 Bhe sat down, he'd just drop down at her feet, and rub his head on her ki.ee Ulta a dumb thing. Kot but tbat he talked yet- a good deul souietime- bat 11 in weak, senselesa fashion, that'd halfb.eak your heart, He dida't seem to know the reason of auything-he miitht be halt-starvod and yet uever think of eatin unless you put the victuals before " There was a while after Mrs Willistou died that I hal a Httle bopes of bim Ue used to wanier around as if he wus gaarohia; for sometLing, and sometimes all to once, an odd look 'd come in to bis tace lor halt a second-you'd V said, to look at him, that he was just a goin' to familt whatever'twas. It was tben he took the habit that siuck to him ever after, of clappin' both hands to his head and sayin', ' It's eomin' !' ■ What's coiuin1 Jocky r I ueed to say sometimes, and the poor boy d stare up into my face with a dazed wxldered look for a minute, and then break out iuto oue of his weak, senseless (miles. " There was Httle or nothen1 left to take care of him witb ; but not a man ,„„ man on the island would ever V let a child o' Cap'n Williston's come to want lot alone hi8 bein' a poor unfortunate like Jock. ho we all adopted him, aa yon imght say and he used to go and come from one house to anotfaer just as suited hun. On the whole, he soemed to stick to me the most. You'U wonder at it, maybe, bu, the poor boy was real company for me alter all bein' alone so uch when Zebedee- that waa in y man- was gone oft on bis whaiin' voyages. "ÍUu!''d-t0be a mast(ir band to read iny Bi ble in them days, thongh iny old eyus ve been too dim tor it now tuis nianv a year. ïhank the Lord, though, that I can see the page a'most as well as ever in mymind! Ihadahabit of readin' out loud a great deal, seeiain' to get the sense better so-especiully iu the Psalms-aud queer as you might think it, there Jock 'd Uy stretched on the rug, before the fireplace. a listemn' by the hour. I used to think twas the sound o' my voice he liked, tor he didn t know enough to understand a single word rightly. But howsoever that was, hearkenin' to me readin' was one ot the two things he seemed to like best in the world. The other was to go out with the men in the boats. Of course he wasn't ofany particular use, but thev all humored him, and sometimes, iu the mackerel séason, they'd keep him out for days and weeks to a timo. "But I must hurry along, ma'am, or I'll be tirffig you out. All this while Jock was growm up, and at twenty he was a f7' """"S i"'iow, standin' a good six toot in lus stockin's. He didn't look that teil, thougb, owin' to his stonpin' soine and walkm with a shuíllm', shaiublin' sort 0 gait, such as you've minded in othors ti'ller ' 'U thö bram didnt hold thl "It was that sanie Slimmer when Mabelle Devereux first carne to the Island - Her f.,ther was a French gentleman, who had hved a great many year.in thU country. Bum out of health, he thought to try the sea air tor awhile. Tm an old womHii and I've seen many a fresh face in my time , but never another that wa. fit to set alongside Mabelle Devereux' - lhere was a picture in Parson Ellefs parlor, over the mantel-piece, that came tVom over seas,- a Madonna he called it.-and 1 vo heard heard teil that it was cop.ed fter the greatest picture of the greatest pamter tbat ever lived. But that's neither here nor tht-re,- ouly when I first set uiy eyes on Mabelle, sittin' one Sundav in Deacon PriceV pew,-Mis. Price waJa aunt to Mabelle's mother.-I leaned over the forward pew before I thought what I was dom , and whispered to 'Biiah Porter s wife, ' Look there ! There'8 Parson ..M f n stePPed ut o' the frame 1' Mabelle wa as good as she was pretty. I used to teil them that all the young men on the coaet just stood afar off and worshiped her. The grirls doted on her, too, - she seenied too different from all the rest to be the least bit jealous of. Old Mr. Deverenx was uiasturly pleased with the Island, and I heard him talkin' with Pttrson Bllet once, at a clara-bake, about the hospitality of the inhabitants, and their rernarkable sympathy with an invalid'a sufferiu's,' and it's boin' ' réally rare, my dear air, to lind such delicate feelin' among the coinmou people.' 'Common people,' indeed! I ached to speak up right there, and say ' You fooi ! so you tlnnk it's for you that twenty boats are ready niornin', noon, or night, with two or three stout young fellows to each one, to row or sail you where you like T But I bit my lips, and held still, which was better for us both. " All little children and brute beasts loved Mabelle at first sight, and it was no wonder fhat poor Jock took to her too. She used to spend 'most all the pleasant dayg out-doors with her father, for Mr. Devereux, when he didn't choose to o-0 out on the water, would have a great chair carried down to the shore, and sit here in the sun. Mabtlle would ramblo up and down the beauh, or climb about auiong the rocks, coming around everv ""1D"mlt! lo see il rmr iatuer wanted any thing. Jook got by degrees to folowin hor for all the world as he used to his muthcr, before she died. Some nrls wouldn't have wanted the great foolish ellow around, or would even have been fraid of him, raaybe, bat it wasn't so with Mabeile. She used to speak to him i her quiet, gentle way, and he ininded her voioc like a little cliüd. It was wonderful how many things she made him do tor her that nobody else would V thought of trying to make him understand. I used to wonder sometiraes if be d had somebody like her when he was a httle fellow and first lost his mind if aft'fn111' parUy have got w back aglin " Ono afternoon I started to go down by the fish house that Toni Porter 'd loft there dryin', and I'd protnised him to see to. I went toward where Mr. Devereux was sittin' in his chair, and Mabelle standin by him. There were three or four spruce-lookm young men tulkin' with tiiem, that had come over that day in a yacht trom Portland, and a little wavs off , by the side of a ruok, half-sittin' and liulf-lyin in the sun, was Jook. I couldn't bear whut the young men wero sayin' mt I saw they looked at Jock, and laughed, and m a minute one of them steppt'd up to him and gave bis chin a pull, saym' somethin' that set them all off again. I was close by thein, and a sharp word was on the end of my touuc when sumething seenied to stop me, and Í look ed at Mabelle. O, ma'am, I'd never seen her hke that ! So tall and so terrible ! - Her whole body trembled, her eyes iüished, and a red spot burned in her cheek and then went out ia an instant and left her face like ahes. Sho didn't seem to walk toward Jock- she went as the wind goes. She put her hand on bis ■houlder, and he gazed up into her face Hl never forget that sight. The same pititul, dazed look that I knew so well come over my poor boy 's face once moré -nis hand went slowly up to bis ueau. -its coimnThe suid. 'Conim'V sho answered, iu a low voice that ruim Iike u. bell,- Yes, uiy brother ! Yes a tuousand times! Comin'in God's timeV MabeUel Wby, Mabelle!' said Mr Devereux, but she did not scein to beur lurriiu' halfabout, shesawme. 'Go now witb Miss Dawson, Jock I' shesáid in her old voice, and he came to me in a mo ment We walked on a few steps, and I lookod arouud, and saw the youna men staudia still with their eyes on the ground, and Mr. Devereux leanin' on Mabelle s arm and walkin' sluwly Up the hill Torn Porter and B,n Britton were musterly disappointed that the Portland ehaps went home next raornin' instead o' stayiu tor a week's n'sbin' as they'd -iven out they would. The boys had'allowed to mak a good bit out of them for odd jobs, but Mabelle and I kept our own counsel. " Mabelle and her father went home in November, and a little while after, Mis Deacon Price told ia e they had gone to ■■ The fall of 1810 was a hard 011e for folks as got their livin' by the sea. One gale beat close upon another, and moie than one boat trom the Island went to pieces. Winter carne, at last, and it was a comfort to have the mackerel schooners all in, and settle down a little. Comfort leastwise to come, more than to me, for fcbedee was away somewhere in thenorth seas, and many a gusty night I used to Itiv and novftr uïuif mtr „n m j_ i „j .... "o,c, luiuiy eyes tin aaybreak " Christnias live cune. All day the lsland had been chokcd in a cold mist - Away to the northeast the gray bank 'of tog broke a littlo as the sun went down and showed a pile of cloud black as midnight. " Jock 'd been stayin' with me ever sinoe suiumer. He didn't seem like himselt that mght, so restless and uueasv-like and to see if I couldn't pacify him,"l got iny Bible and begun toread just where it opened, which happened to be at the pighteenth Psalm. He threw himself down and liatenud, but he had such a queer, wild look, that I shut the Bible after a httle, and told hira to go up-stairs to bed. He started docile enoughf but at the chamber door ho stooped so lone that I spoke to hini again : " 'Gooo, now, Jack- that's my Sood boy. Ho gave such a start that I was soared tor a minute, then he put up his hand, and said, quite loud. "'It's comin'! To-uight ! ' " Then he went up stairs. " Somehow I couldn't go to bed. I feit as it something was goin' to happen. The veryair wasu't natural. Betere I knew it, ld be sayin over to myself, Ifs comin-to-mght!' 'Twas no use tryia' to aoold rayself out of my feelin's, and so, at last 1 just lopped down on the lounKe with my clothes on. As I laid there, I oould haar the wind risin' and the surf pound on the rocks outside of the bar I heard the clock strike ten, eleveu, 'and iui mei j. wojte up all of a sudden, the last spark ot firo Was out and the room oold as a grave. Tho oandle was burnt down into tho stick, till thore was hardly agleam at light Uit. I got up, for I was shiverm hke an ague-chill, and as I wulked across the Hoor, I feit the old house tremble in the gale, and the roar of the sea was hke on e long roll of thunder.- Ihen, all to ouoe-ifa a druadful sound, maani, in a uight lite that- I heard a gun and in a minute more, another, and 1 luil down on iny knees and prayed for the poor wretohes perishin' out there in the storm. I couldn't abear to stay alone, so I put sometbing around me and ran over through the dark to 'Bijah Portei's. Ihey were all up, and 'Bij ah and Torn had just como up from the shore. Thev couldn't mako out any thing, they said, and the sea run so that there was nothin' to do but wait for light. "Tiiward ïnornin' the wind wont down and with tho firat streak of dawn, wo all went down to ihe beach. There was a great crowd there a'ready, aud after a good while we could just mako out a big black thiug, lyin' partly out of tho water to the leeward of the Pirate's Rock, not nioio'n a quarter of amile away. " ' Poor creeturs ! ' said Bije, ' they must a been all doad hours ago.' " So nigh tho land, and Christmas Day ! said Martha Price, who ws a standiu' close to me. Then she gripped my arm, and says she under her breath. "Ma'üiu Dawson, I dare to gay that Ha a cruel thing !' "Icouldn't answer her. I feit like a blaphemer, for 'twas my ovra thought she'd voiced. " All of a sudden I heard a noise behind me, like some one runnin', and the crowd parted every way. i turned around, and for au instant, mii'am, I thought tho sea 'd givo up the deiid it swallowed two and twenty years agone.'Wusn't it Cap'n Willistun that stood there, with black eyes flashin' and th salt Bpray frozen into bis hair ? A dozen women screamed, and old Mis. Price feil down hke doad. " ' Jock I ' I callod out then, for I didn't know what I was sayin'- O Jock ! is it come?' " Ho didn't answer. I doubt if he heard or saw me at all. He stood starin' out to sea with 8uch a face as I never saw on mortal man. All at once his Toice, that used to be so weak like a child's, rung out stront and clear as a trumpet : "He bowed tho heaveus, also, and came down, and darkness was under his toet.- And he rode upen a cherub and did fiy yea, he did tiy upon the wings of the wind His pavillion rouud about him wore dark waters and thiok clouds of the skies. " " Ho sent from above, he took me, he drew me out uf uiany waters. ' ' Thou wiitüght :y can'dle ; the Lord my Oro i wil I enlighten uiy daiknoss.- or who is God, save the Lord, and who is-a rock save our God? ' " The fog lifted up in the east, and the elear light touched his head. A iniuuSe more and the wreek was in full view Joelt turned like a flash and wronohed the glass out of Skipper Gibsons hand He looked for an instant, then he dashed ït down on the siuid, and ran for the boathouse The men lookod at each other JNobody seemed to breathe. Skipper Gib son was the tiret that spoke. ' 'Men ! ' he said, ' God calis us by a nuraole ! ' " It was like breakin' a spell. They ran, they shonted, thev duUhH rir.wn tul boat. Jock was the fírst inside Six times the swell beat her back, but the seventh she passed the breaker. Up and down over the white caps we could see her spiing to the oars. The men told us alter that Jock ut ver spoke, but pulled with the strcngth of three, and that if in all those senselesg years when he'd been so much upon the sea, he'd made the handlin of a boat a etudy, he couldn't 'a' seeined to know better what to do Skipper Gibson declared to big dyin' day that he beheved the spirit of his father carne back mto Juck's body that day; but I thmk, ma'aui, that it was another Spirit that lightened that darkness. "We watched them as they made fast to the wreek, and then we made out two men chmbm' up the side and into the riggln %e Siuv through the glass one dark thing and then another handed down ; then somethin' seemed to fall, and nothiu' was olear for a little. The boat moved round and round the wreek, and uftaded for shore. As it carne nearer we made out Skipper Gibson and 'Bijah and the others, but no Jock. A hundred hands stretched out to pull 'ein in The skipper sprur g'over tho bows. "Quickl quick!' ho called out.- ' L.L-nd a hand, and we inay save theui yet ! " Who was it, ma'am, do you think, that lay white and still in that boat-bottom ( A woman, and an oíd man and a youiig ! It was Mabelle, and her fathor, and puor Jock ! " I needn't teil you bow we worked.- We th.it live here know bow to suatch hfe out of the very maw of the hungry sea Mabelle and Mr. Devereux were nigher frozen to death than drowned - The captain of the sbip had 'era lashed to tho nggui' and wrapped round aud round with sail-cloth. Only that had kept them ahve, and they two alone, of all on board, saw the suu rise aftar that awful night. " But Jock- my Jock ! We'd V given onr hearts to save him, but it wasn't to be He climbed up flrst, the men told us, with the skipper after him, and cut the ropes himseli. Mr. Deveivux was handed down nrst, and then Jock lifted Mabelle in bis arme, but just as the men in the boat took her f rom him, her cloak feil away and showed her face, white and set like death. Jock gave a graat cry, threw up his arms, and feil over the ship's side. Xhey picked him up in less'n a minute, but he must, a struck his head somehow, for there was a great bruise on his temnle. and ho never breathed nor stirred. "I knew wheu I first got eyes on him, that he was dead. I must V feit, aftur they d tned for hours to bring him to and given up at last, something as Elisha did when the sons of the prophets came back trom huntm' overywhere for Elijah andhetold them, 'Said I not unto you' Uonotj" -I thought the Lord had come so near in takin' poor Jock tbat we might a seen ' the chariot of Israel and the horsenien thereof.' , " Ho looked the image of his father in the cofhn. Mr. Devereux oouldn't loave his bed then, nor for weeks and weeks after, but he made Duacon Price go to Portland and got the best that money could buy- all rosewood and silver and satin and velvet. And such a funeral never was seen on the Island. I reckon that a thousand people stood in the graveyard and around the church, and scarce a dry eye ainong them all. " There was no end of finu-Bpun talk among the doctors. Three of 'em came to talk with me ons day, seein1 that Jook had been. with me so much, to find out all they could about him- the 'nature of his disoase.' and so on. But I just made answer, "'It's no use, gentlemen! Beggin' your pardon, you've no causo to meddla with this thing. It's the Lord'a doin's, and it's mai velous in our eyes ! ' " And so they went away. " Mr. Devereux had the stone set ud. but twaa Mabelle that told them what to put on it. The old gentleman is doad, now, but Mabello ia married and livea in Boston, and every eumiuer she comes down to the Island and bringB her linie boy, and when the afternoons are ploasant you can see them sittin' here in the graveyard on this very seat. Sho tells him over and over what I've been tellin' you, and he never gets tired of listenin'. " Always, when she's done, he says : "'Ho that's why you uamed me Jock mamma r" " But bless me ! there's the bell, ma'am. How I've been runnin' on ! But you'll excuse an old wouian whose Hfe ig mostly in the past."- From the Aldine for April. A philanthropist has recontly purchased a farm near Binghamton, N. Y., for the site of a home for " men and women of genius, talent, character and aspiration," who fnil in litorture and art. The Commercial thinks he has made a mistuke in selecting a place of oiily 160 acroa for sueh a purposo. Montreal is sorely afflicted with smallpox. At the latest accounts 200 deaths were reported, and the number of deaths was incroasing.