Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

CAUGHT IN A THUNDERSTORM.

MY

Y old friend George and myself were enjoying a ramble among the hills. We were alone, for it was a trip a la reminiscence, you must know, a repetition of one of the numerous trips which we used to take twentyfive years ago, when we were "good-for-nothing boys." George and I had been friends from our childhood, and were wont to spend our holidays on the banks of Loch Katrine or Loch Lomond, where our parents generally took lodgings during the summer months. These were days never to be forgotten, but of course the best of them were those on which we were permitted to roam quite alone. Sometimes our parents or brothers would accompany us, but when that was the case, we did not call it one of "our Highland excursions." We rather liked to saunter among the hills without plan or rule, taking our course where there was no beaten path — making our way down into the dark glens, holding on by the grass, or tufts of heather, or whatever we could lay our hands upon, and then in the same way climbing up the opposite side till we reached the top, when we threw our caps in the air, and shouted "Victory!"

www

Twenty-five years elapsed, and what changes had taken place during that period! Our parents were dead long ago. George had passed nearly one half of those years in America, and had at length settled down in Manchester; while I had entered a London banking-house. We were both married, and had families. During all our changes and vicissitudes we had kept up a correspondence, and our regard for each other continued unabated. Every year we tried, if possible to have our families together, for a couple of weeks, either at the seaside or some lovely spot in the country. This year we had succeeded in getting suitable lodgings not far from the Trossahs.

"John," said George to me, one evening, “ we must have one day, at least, set apart for one of our old Highland excursions. You know what I mean? ? "

"Of course," I answered, "the hills must know that we are the old boys still."

And so we were now on our rambles once

[blocks in formation]

nor did we venture on hazardous leaps acros the burns. We were too proud to admit this; but the hills must, nevertheless, have seen that we were a good deal changed.

But amongst the changes that had happened since we roamed as boys through these regions, that which the spirit of God had made on our hearts was doubtless the most important. It even gave the hills a different look to us from what they had formerly. We loved our families: and how best to train our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord was a

question on which our conversation often turned. We felt the responsibility of our task as Christian parents, and we felt our need of God's guidance and assistance in our momentous work. It was then that the hills reminded us of many an encouraging text. "We will lift up our eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh our help,'" I would say, "Even unto Him," George would answer, “who said, · The mountains shall depart and the hills be removed, but

my

noon.

kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed.”” Engaged in conversation like this we sat on the top of a rugged rock, from which we had a charming view of the lochs, and the wild panorama of the hills opposite. It was long past Absorbed in our subject, we had not noticed that dark clouds were gathering in the east. Gradually our attention was drawn to them by the change in the sun's rays, which assumed a gloomy reddish hue, and threw a fantastic glare over the whole scenery. A fresh breeze, that soon swelled into a storm, roared around, while a faint report of thunder was heard far away in the distance.

"A storm is approaching," cried George; "we must descend immediately."

"Whereabouts are we?" I asked, somewhat alarmed. "Do you know the nearest way?"

We found that we were both strangers to the spot. Whether we were four or six or eight miles from our homes, neither of us could tell. But this much we knew, that we could not reach them before the thunderstorm came on.

"At any rate, we must go down,” I said. Perhaps we shall find a cottage at the bottom of the hill."

We scrambled down as quickly as the steepness of the rocks and the rolling stones permitted us. Meanwhile the sun had disappeared behind thick, dark clouds, which covered all the sky; and the thunder became more and more

audible. Suddenly there was a dazzling flash of lightning, and a terrible thunder-peal broke, which reverberated among the hills for several minutes. At the same time the rain poured down in streams, as if the windows of heaven were opened. And now the whole creation seemed to be in travail, groaning and sighing with uninterrupted roaring. Sometimes it was so dark that we could scarcely see our path, but had to wait for a flash of lightning to discover the track. Then we would shelter ourselves for a minute or so under a prominent piece of rock, to let the first gush of a fresh shower pass over. But we soon perceived that we must hasten our steps, as delay was dangerous. The storm was still coming nearer. The echoing of the thunder amongst the hills was becoming quite frightful. It was as if a great number of large cannon were being fired off at once. Sometimes, for several minutes, we walked in the lustre of uninterrupted flashes of lightning; while the hills rose before our dazzled eyes like huge ghastly-looking giants. "It is the voice of the Lord," said George, taking my arm: "the God of glory thundereth. The voice of the Lord is full of majesty. The voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness." "Let us not fear then," I said. of the Lord will do us no harm."

"The voice

By this time we had reached the bottom of the hill. We found ourselves on a country road, along the side of which ran a rivulet, now swollen into a tempestuous torrent. A little to he left we noticed a bridge, and beyond it a cottage. To see it and to run to it were the work of a moment.

An

We entered a clean, tidy-looking room. elderly woman, with a kind face, sat at a table mending clothes. No sooner did we make our appearance, than, taking off her spectacles, she said in a frank voice, placing chairs for us at the same time:

"Come in, come in, gentlemen. Dear me, what weather!"

The water ran in streams from our clothes, and formed pools underneath our chairs. "Why, you are quite drenched," she said. "Yes, we are," I said; "and if you could make a fire to dry our clothes, we should be greatly obliged.”

"Certainly, certainly, sir," she answered; "you are very wet indeed. But you cannot dry your clothes on you." "O yes!" we said.

"No, no, that won't do; it would give you a bad cold. I will just call my son. He will help you to some clothes, which you may put on while your own are before the fire."

Before we could make any objections, she went out to the passage, and cried “ Archie!” Archie soon made his appearance. He was a tall, fine-looking young man, of about twenty-five.

"O, I must give you some clothes, gentlemen," he said, "it you have no objection to a farmer's dress for a while."

He took us into an adjacent bedroom, and in a minute or two we were clad in our new attire. We could not help laughing heartily at each other's appearance. Still the change was really pleasant, and but for the serious mood in which the still raging storm kept our minds, there would have been no end to our jokes.

Upon re-entering the room we found a bright fire blazing on the hearth. Archie was cutting bread, while his mother was getting the kettle to boil for tea. The good old woman went to the kitchen, and soon came back with some cold meat on a plate. She had no great difficulty in persuading us to partake of this hearty meal. It was really a luxury in our circumstances. While we were thus enjoying her hospitality she put our wet clothes on chairs before the fire.

The cry of a baby was heard, and for the first time we noticed a cradle in the corner of the room.

"Yes, darling," said Archie, stooping down and taking the little one out of its nest. It was a fine boy, between two and three. Health and sleep had painted large bright roses on his little puffy cheeks, which curiosity contrasted with the frightened look which he cast at the strangers.

"I suppose that's your child," said my friend to Archie. "What a fine fellow! And where is his mother?"

"She is away to Callander, to see her sister, who is ill," was the answer.

"Is this your first child?" I asked, rather inquisitively perhaps.

"No, we have another one, an infant. She is with my wife, as grandmother wanted to see her."

I looked round the room. It showed everywhere marks of prosperous circumstances. There were two good engravings suspended on the wall- the one was Christ blessing little

children; the other Da Vinci's "Lord's Supper." | the picture was first brought into the house, the

In the middle between them was an oil painting, evidently by a good artist. It represented a young couple driving in a brougham and pair in the midst of a furious thunderstorm, with a broken bridge in the distance. The lady was most elegantly dressed, and the coachman wore rich livery. A lad stood by the horses, speaking to the coachman. I rose and examined the picture with great pleasure.

"That's a fine work of art,” I said, resuming "Are my seat. you fond of pictures ?" "I like them pretty well," answered Archie; "but I am not a great judge. Those who are, say that it is worth looking at."

"Who is the artist?" George asked, after having followed my example of inspecting it.

66

I really cannot tell his name,” said Archie. "Do you know, mother?"

"Well, I forget it," answered the old woman, "But he is a friend of Sir Wilbraham's, you know. He is a clever painter, I am told."

"Sir Wilbraham?" I asked. "Who is he?" "Why, he is the gentleman there in the carriage," said Archie; "and the lady is his wife. His name is Sir Wilbraham He lives near Carlisle, where he has a large estate, and he has also a house and extensive grounds near Stirling.”

[ocr errors]

George remembered having heard the name before.

66

[blocks in formation]

66

I will tell you how it came about," said the woman. "It is a strange story, sir, and it shows how wonderfully God supports the widow and the orphan. In those days we lived in a poor wretched hut. Archie was then a lad of fourteen. My husband was dead, and had left me without any support. I did not know how to get on from one day to the other. As I could not afford to send Archie to school, I kept him at home to do little jobs and errands for the neighbors, which brought in a few coppers a week. During the summer months he used to stand near the bridge yonder, to watch the car

Good-looking couple," he said, looking at riages that crossed it, as this is a favorite road, the figures in the picture.

“Ay,” said the old woman, "and they still look as bright and youthful as they do in the picture, though it is ten years since it was painted, and they have four children now. But a blessing is upon them and their house; and no wonder, for better people there are not in Scotland or England, or the whole world. They pay us a visit every year, and we are always delighted to see them, for we owe all our prosperity to them under our Maker."

We now perceived that there must be some connection between the picture and the history of the tenants of the cottage. Our curiosity was raised.

"So that's Sir Wilbraham and his wife," I said. "And who is that lad speaking to the coachman ?"

[ocr errors][merged small]

and put the drag on the wheels. One afternoon a gentleman and a lady came up in a carriage, and Archie put on the drag as usual. The coachman asked him if they could drive to the Trossachs, stay there a couple of hours, and be back about nine. Archie said they could. The gentleman then dropped a shilling into his hand, and off they drove."

She paused here, but no one wishing to speak, she proceeded again.

[ocr errors]

It was a fine day at the time, and Archie came home in high spirits, to give me the shilling. But about sunset the sky became overcast, and a storm began, just like this. Between the thunder-peals, I heard a fearful crash. Dear me,' I said to Archie, 'I believe the bridge is down. I suppose the water has swept it away.' I knew the bridge was in a bad state. There is a stone one now, but it was a wooden one then. I had often spoken about the state it was in to James Maconachie, the forester, who had charge of it, but he took no notice.

·

Though the rain was pouring, Archie rushed out to see, and it was just as I said. 'Mother,' he said, it is so dark that I could not see my own hands, but when a flash of lightning came I saw that the bridge was all swept away, and the pieces of wood floating down the water.' It was about nine o'clock then. Archie, boy,' I said, 'you must go and stand on the rock a bit from the bridge. You know the gentleman and the lady will soon be up, and they will all go over the bank and into the water, if you don't warn them.' So Archie went out and took his stand on the road. The rain rushed down in torrents, but he did not mind it much, as he was well-used to it, and I promised him a cup of tea with sugar when he came back. Mother, they're not come,' he said, ' and it's half-past nine.' He was cold and shivering, poor boy. But you must go again, Archie,' I said; ' they will come, as they are sure to have left the Trossachs before the storm came on.' I gave him his tea and a piece of bread, and off he went again. He waited another half-hour, when on a sudden he saw the lamps, and the carriage came up at full speed under torrents of rain. Archie at once began shouting: Stop! stop! the bridge is broken! The bridge is broken!' He shouted loud enough to be heard in spite of the noise of the storm and the rattling of the carriage, but they were going at such a rate, that they were within a few yards of the river before the coachman got the horses drawn up. 'What is the matter?' shouted the gentleman. The bridge is broken, sir!' said Archie. At the same moment there was a flash of lightning, and they saw with their own eyes the depth into which they were about to plunge. Preserve us!' exclaimed the coachman, 'we were but a few steps from our death!' A cry of horror escaped from the gentleman's lips. What are we to do now?' he asked. We cannot get back to the Trossachs to-night, can we?' Not possible, sir,' Archie replied. The nearest road would take you twenty miles out of the way, and it is very difficult to find at night.' Is there an inn hereabouts?' asked the coachman. Not for ten miles round, except on the opposite side of the water,' said Archie; but our house is a few yards from this, and my mother will give you shelter for the night.' 'But where are we to put the horses?' the gentleman asked. We have a shed behind the house,' said Archie; and you may put them there, they will be quite safe.'

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

"You may imagine my surprise, sir, when on a sudden I heard a carriage stop at the door, and a gentleman and lady enter, led by Archie. I made them welcome as I could. The gentleman asked me if I would allow them to spend the night under my roof. They were in much the same condition as you were in just now drenched to the skin for their umbrellas and rugs had been but poor protection in such an awful storm. I pitied the poor lady. She looked very pale, and shivered all over. I took her into a little closet, and begged her to put on some of the best of my clothes. As I had still my late husband's clothes in my possession (they are the same as you have on now, sir,) I could also help the gentleman. Archie gave the coachman a dry shirt, and they both went off to their beds among some straw in the shed. I made a good fire to dry the clothes, and managed to give the gentleman and lady a cup of tea with oat cakes. I saw that it did them good, and I was delighted to see the care the gentleman took of the lady. I gave up my own bed to them, which they took very thankfully; and I made a shake-down for myself in the little closet. So we got through the night very well on the whole. The next morning we were all quite contented with our night's quarters. The clothes were dry again, and the lady was as cheerful and happy as need be. Early in the morning, before they awoke, I had sent Archie to the baker's, who lives a mile from this, with the shilling he got from the gentleman. He came back with a half loaf and some butter. I had still some tea, so I was able to offer them a breakfast. But they did not take much of it, for they were anxious to drive off, as they had friends at the Trossachs, who would be alarmed about them. So when the carriage was at the door the lady thanked me kindly for what she called my goodness, and put a piece of paper into my hand. The gentleman patted Archie on the back, and put something in his hand. When they were off I found my piece of paper was a five-pound note; and Archie found himself with five sovereigns. You may imagine our amazement and joy, sir. I had never seen so much money at once in my life before. Mother,' cried Archie, 'There will be no getting through it.' Two days after this the lady and gentleman again made their appearance. They were accompanied by another gentleman, who afterwards turned out to be a painter. The lady again thanked me, and said, 'You

6

66

IT.

THE PAY OF THE NEEDLE.

are

T is notorious that our seamstresses scantily compensated for their labor. The scavengers who lazily sweep our streets, doing their work in the most slovenly and shiftless manner imaginable, receive per day about triple the sum that an expert needlewoman can earn in the same time with the aid of a sewing machine by making shirts. Why thick-headed louts of the male gender should be more liberally rewarded for their lubberly labor, than smart active women for doing what they are hired to do in the best possible manner, is a question that admits of but one solution. It is easier to cheat and oppress women than to

saved our lives, and we cannot forget you.'- | way home again, we agreed that of all our 'Or rather your son,' said the gentleman; Highland excursions," this, though likely to 'where is he?' Archie soon made his appear- be the last, was certainly not the least. ance. The gentleman then bade Archie tell his friend the painter what had happened on that evening, and how he had been watching on the road in the rain and lightning, and how he had stopped the carriage. After that the gentleman minutely inquired into our circumstances, and when he learnt our poverty, and my husband had been a farmer, and how Archie would have been brought up one too, had death not set all our plans at naught, he looked Archie in the face and said, Would you like to go to school, and become a farmer?' 'Yes, sir,' said Archie, and his eyes glistened, for though he is present, sir, I cannot keep from saying that he was always a good boy, and very fond of learn- | ing. To be short, sir, he offered to take Archie to a place near Stirling, where he would put him with a farmer, and give him schooling at the same time. Of course I had no objection, and Archie jumped with joy. He also settled on me a pound a week during my life. Soon after, he arranged with the laird that I should have a new house, and that when Archie grew up he should have a farm. After living five years with the farmer, Archie came home, and Sir Wilbraham stocked his farm for him.

"And that, sir," said the old woman, "is the story. Archie is a happy husband and father, as you see; and every morning and evening we seek a blessing on the heads of Sir Wilbraham and his family, and we want words to thank Him for the wonderful way in which He has been a Husband to the widow, and a Father to the fatherless."

Tears stood in the good woman's eyes when she had finished her story, and Archie tossed his baby up and down in his arms, saying: Yes, darling, it is just so; and when you're big, we'll tell you all about it."

66

Meanwhile the weather had cleared up, and was bright and beautiful. Our clothes were dry now, and we went into the bed-room to put

[blocks in formation]

grind the faces" of men, and therefore, to the shame of manhood, not to speak of chivalry, masculine laziness is better paid than feminine industry. When employed on the same kind of work the sexes are never equally remunerated - the men, even if less skilful than their fair competitors, invariably getting "the lion's share.”

All wrong, however, is comparative, and it may be some consolation to our needlewomen to know, that they are not so hardly dealt with as their sisters on the other side of the ocean. In England, according to the last Public Health Report made to the Lords, of Council for the information of Parliament, the average income of each adult seamstress is only about eightyeight cents per week, and very often the poor creatures remain unemployed for weeks together. Sometimes — wonderful benevolence! the needlewoman receives a weekly loaf of bread from her parish. Only one out of every three workers can afford to buy milk to the extent of one farthing's worth per day. Here is their bill of fare: "Of meat, some buy two ounces daily, others a quarter of a pound three times a week and half a pound on Sunday; others only one penny-worth of sheep's brains or a penny-worth of black pudding for dinner or supper." Such are the rations of scores of thousands of industrious, virtuous, church going women in "Merry England." Meanwhile the Archbishop of Canterbury preaches a charity sermon now and then on the income of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars per annum.

« AnteriorContinuar »