402 



FOREST ANlD STREAM. 



[Nov. 11, 1893. 



DANVIS FOLKS.-XIV. 



A Morning of Song. 



The low, dark, gray sky that bad seemed to threaten a 

 bodily smothering descent upon the earth, now began to 

 scatter down a thickening shower of flakes, whicb the 

 rising wind drove far aslant, dappling with flecks of 

 down, then padding with white cushions the windward 

 sides of trees, fences and buildings. 



A great flock of snow buntings reveling in the storm, 

 swept along in the driven slant, Mke an accession of bulk- 

 ier flakes and settled in a long drift among the bent 

 weeds, as heedless of the storm as its own wind-tossed 



The further hiUs were quite hidden by the nearer 

 woods, and isolated trees and dwellings were vaguely re- 

 vealed through the drifting veil and the snow, beating 

 with a soft patter against the shop window, blurred it to 

 deeper dullness with clinging flakes and the slow trickle 

 of their melting. 



No one but a shoemaker could work, and the rest of the 

 world could only go a-visiting. Uncle Lisha futilely 

 wiped the inside of his dull pane and stared forth, but 

 there was revealed to him only the distorted image of a 

 woodpecker clinging to the leeward side of the nearest 

 tree. Sam came in to smoke a second pipe, as did his 

 father, in violation of his ordinary custom of sitting with 

 women folks, whose unaggressiveness was a pleasing reve- 

 lation after the experience of his later years. 



But Uncle Lisha was not disappointed in his expecta- 

 tions, the stamping of feet on the doorstep announced 

 visitors, and Solon, Joseph, Pelatiah, Antoine and his 

 father drifted in,|in a snow-laden file, as if they had come 

 down with the storm and were a noisier adjunct of it; and 

 each scattered from him his burden of snow in a circle of 

 melting moisture. 



"Dis was ma fader, One' Lasha Pegg," said Antoine, 

 leading his desiccated parent to the shoe bench, "he '11 gat 

 great many hoi', One' Lasha, he 'U gat some hoi'. Ah. '11 

 mekyou intro-duce." 



Uncle Lisha stared almost savagely at the old man, 

 who bowed profusely and said: "Comme est ga va, M'sieu 

 Pegg?" 



"Hear the ol' critter callin' me a shoe peg," Uncle Lisha 

 gi-owled in an undertone, and roared in a voice so startling 

 that the old Canadian recoiled before it: 



"Commadgy vaw. Good arrth an' seas. If it's talkin' 

 French yer arter, I'm jest the man. PoUy voo Francy. 

 Sacree. Mushdaw. There. He's a sassy critter, a-calUn' 

 on me a shoe peg in my own shop." 



"O, no-no-no, bien no. One' Lasha," Antoine protested. 

 "He'll ant call younot'ing honly M'sieu Pegg; dat was 

 Muster Pegg, dat was all." 



"O, I wanter know," Uncle Lish ejeculated in some 

 confusion. "Wal, that comes o' speakin' in unknown 

 tongues. I c'n talk French consid'able but I can't onder- 

 stan' it noways clear when other folks talks it. Seddaown 

 by the stove, Ann Twine's father, an' make yourself tu 

 hum." 



The old Canadian stared at his host in bewilderment till 

 Uncle Lisha repeated the invitation in what he considered 

 more intelligible phrase, and with a roar that he was sure 

 must make it understood: 



"Sittey daown, smokey you peep," which being accom- 

 panied by a wave of the hand and a pantomimic suck- 

 ing of the thumb, and interpreted by Antoine, induced 

 the old man to take a seat behind the stove and fill his 

 black pipe with rank, home-grown tobacco. 



"An' now what's the news," Uncle Lisha demanded, as 

 he laid a tap on the sole of a boot, fastened it with three 

 pegs and trimmed the edge with his knife. "The' must 

 be some, the hul caboodle on ye turnin' aout in sech a 

 snowstorm." 



"Wal," said Solon, not to be forestalled but with seemly 

 hesitation, "the' is what you might caUeenamost discred- 

 ible news." 



Uncle Lisha held his hammer suspended while he cast 

 an inquiring glance at Solon. 



"The's a feller," Solon continued, "hes come up to the 

 village an' instigated hisself as a mai-chant in the BiUins's 

 saddler shop, an' he's jest cuttin' in on Clapham like all 

 smutteration, an' is jest a gittin' his hul onmitigated 

 trade." 



"You don't say," said Uncle Lisha, driving home a peg 

 and fumbling 'abstractedly for another, "An' who is the 

 critter?" 



"Feller f'm V'gennes, name o' Bascom, an' he's jest a 

 givin' away goods." 



"Humph. Won't git turrible rich at that, I don't cal'- 

 late. Just a baittn' folks. Wal, wal, tew stores tu the 

 village, an' I remember when the' wa'nt none." 



" Ah '11 tol' you. One' Lasha, it was be jes sem one man 

 Canada, f ome to St. Ursule setthn' up store an' sol' so 

 cheap, evree body crazy for bought it, an' dat man, he 'U 

 borry, borry fave, ten, feefty, bonded dollai- evreebody, 

 den fust dey '11 know, whoop, he '11 bus' up an' gone 

 where somebody ant known." 



"I'd know, but mebby he haint selhn' not tu say cheaper 

 'n Clapham, for they du say his paounds is aluiighty light 

 an' his yards pleggid short, but I d' know," remarked 

 Joseph. 



"He 's a sellin' boots a half dollar cheaper 'n what 

 Clapham is," Pelatiah ventured to offer. 



"Boots," Uncle Lisha growled in deep-toned contempt, 

 "if he gin 'em away folks 'ould get cheated. Boots! 

 'Tannin' begretched an' makin' bewitched!' Les' hear 

 suthin' interestin'. Someb'y tell a story er sing a song, 

 Ann Twine can't yer father give us a French song?" 



"Dat was de honly kan he '11 gat. He '11 ant learn foi: 

 sung Angleesh lak Ah '11 was." 



"It's hopesin he won't," said Sam. 



"Tune him up, Ann Twine," cried Uncle Lisha, and 

 Antoine with a few words in French, persuaded his father 

 to sing in a nasally sonorous voice and with a feeling that 

 was better imderstood than the words: 



"A la claire fontaine 



M'en allant promener, 

 J'ai trouv6 I'eau si belle 



Que je m'y suie baign6. 

 H y a longtemps que je t'alme, 



Jamais je ne t'oublierai."* 



Then without much persuasion, the, old man sang 

 'Koulant ma Boule." 



"Eouli, roulant, ma boule roulant, 

 En roulant ma boule roulant, 

 En roulant ma boule." 

 "I like that aire abaout roUin' the bull almighty well," 

 Uncle Lisha commented when the songs were ended, 

 but that aire Jimmy Jeimy trouble you, I can't make 

 much on." 



'Dat ant what it said, One' Lasha. It was 'Jamais je 

 ne t'oubUerai,' sem he '11 said, 'Ah '11 ant never goin' fregit.' 

 But Ah '11 goin' sing you so you on'stan," and he struck up 

 more tunefully than intelUgibly, "The girl I left behind 

 me." 



"De bee growl an' weesli for save hees store, 

 De dove lie shall turn over 

 An' fall In the water, mek it roar, 



If Ah '11 fregit for love her. 

 If ev'ree chance Ah '11 gat dat way, 



An' she ant gat for sign me, 

 Ah '11 reckon up mah min' for stay, 

 To de gal Ah love behine me." 



'Lord o' massy, yes, if a feller only knows the song he 

 c'n onderstan' it jest as easy as rollin' oft a lawg. Now 

 then, Solon, give us 'Brave Wolf.' 



The swelling drone of Huldah's spinning wheel had 

 ceased, and the shop door was softly set ajar that the 

 occupants of the kitchen might share the musical treat. 



"That aire French singin' is turrible satisfyin'," Aunt 

 Jerusha whispered, as she sat with her ear bent to the 

 crack of the door and a pinch of snuff half way to her 

 nose, "considerin' you can't make aout a word on't." 



Then Solon, after much preparatory clearing of his 

 throat, struck up his doleful song in a high pitched voice. 



"Cheer up your hearts, young men, 

 Le-at noth-ing fright yeou, 

 Be o-of a galUant mind, 

 Le-at that delight yeou." 



When the hero of Quebec at last "died with pleasure" 

 in the arms of his "Eddy Konk," Joseph HUl lifted up 

 his voice in commemoration of another humbler and 

 fairer victim of the great destroyer: 



"It was all by the banks of a beauchiful river, 

 As I walked aout In the sweet month of June, 

 A pretty fair maid I chanced to diskiver, 

 As carmly she strayed by the Ught of the moon. 

 Nya— sing derry down derry, 

 Nya— derry daown day." 



"An' neow it's come your turn, Samwil." And Sam, 

 after such persuasion as a bashful singer needs, sang of 

 his beloved woods: 



"When the airth is klvered white 

 An' the trees is naked gray, 

 O, then 'tis my delight 

 Tu the woods tu take my way, 

 Tu hear my haoun' a-hootin', an' a-tootin', 

 An' hear my gim a-shootin' 

 When the fox goes streakin' by. 



When the greenin' spring has come 



Tu fetch the fun o' flshin', 

 Though I du enj'y it some, 



Fer fall I keep a wishin', 

 Tu hear my haoun' a-hootin', etc. 



But the yaller days o' summer 



Is the season wust tu bear, 

 A lunsome spell o' waitin' 

 Fer the jolly time o' year, 

 That sets my haoun' a-hootin', etc 



O, it's bright in the mornin' airly, 



Of a gay October day, 

 That I deUght most dearly 



To the woods to take my way, 

 Tu hear my haoun' a-hootin', etc. 



Ev'ry tree's a painted picter, 



An' the grass is green as Jime, 

 If the' haint no birds a-singin' 

 I shall hear a sweeter tune, 

 When I hear my haoun' a-hootin', an' a-tootin', 

 An' hear my gun a-shootin' 

 When the fox goes rustlin' by." 



"Short an' sweet, Uke a spoo'f'l o' 'lasses, an' good 

 'nough tu hev more on't." Then Uncle Lisha burst forth 

 in a stormy song of the sea of "Two lofty ships that from 

 old England sailed," and went cruistag round on the coast 

 of "Barboree" in quest of pirates. The stove-pipe rang 

 with a responsive vibration as he roared: 



" ' Lay aloft,' cried aour cap'n, 'lay aloft,' shouted he, 

 ' Look ahead, look astarn, look a-weather, look a-lee, 

 Crulsin' raoun' on the coast of Barboree,' " 



and every one was glad when at length the "JoUy 

 Pii-ruts" were simk in the bottom of the sea. 



"Lisher c'n sing jest as pooty as ever he could," whis- 

 pered Aunt Jerusha, admiringly. 



"An' neow, Peltier, you come in like what the shoe- 

 maker hove at his wife, but you've got tu be heard from, 

 just the same. Tune up suthin' lively, neow." 



Pelatiah lingered difiidently on the vex"ge{of song, f eeUng 

 his way here and there with an unsatisfactory pitch tH. 

 at last he launched forth with the recital of experiences 

 somewhat similar to his own: 



'"Tis of a poor yoimg map, 

 Distraghted quite by love, 

 His storee I'll relate, 



Your tears all for to move, 

 Conven-iunt a damsel lived. 

 No rose it could compare 

 A with the damask of her cheek, 

 The color of her hair." 



So Pelatiah continued his doleful strain tiU the heart- 

 broken hero went to sea to drown himself and his sorrow. 

 "That aire's a turrible lunsome kinder song, Peltier, an' 



I'm glad the' haint no more on 't. Good airth an' seas, 

 the' haint no sense in a feller given' uj) that way." 



"No," said Sam, "he'd a tarnal sight better go aout an' 

 kill a wolf, er a fox, er suthin'." 



"I swan, Timerthy has sneaked off wi'out singin'," said 

 Uncle Lisha. 



"One' Lasha, Ah '11 wan' gat you medjy ma fader his 

 foot of it for mek it some boot. He 'II gat hees botte 

 sauvage ah waar hoff so hees foots mek wet aU de tam." 



'All right, fetch him over here," Uncle Lisha shouted, 

 picking up a splinter of pine and spUtting it to the de- 

 sired size. ' 'Gittin' on him ready tu go tu Colchester 

 P'nt? Wal, I'd keep him here a spell yit. Folks never 

 come back f'm the P'nt no more 'n they du f'm any other 

 hereafter. Why, they du say 'at you c'n hear th' bones 

 an' skins a-rattlin' 'fore yon get within a mile o' the P'nt, 

 an' sech a polly vooin' !" 



"O, One' Lasha, what you talk so? Frenchmans dead 

 when he gat ready, some tam 'fore, jes sem somebody. 

 Den le Bon Dieu call it an' he flew up an' le Bon Dieu put 

 it in veree high roos'." 



"Shets it in a coop, more like, Ann Twine. But trot 

 aout yer father over here. PuU off yer boot, Ann Twine's 

 father. Pulley hoff you butt." Uncle Lisha was not sur- 

 prised that his meaning was comprehended by his cus- 

 tomer, who cried, "Oui, oui," very rapidly, and at once 

 grappled with his right boot and presently disclosed a very 

 dirty stocking. 



"Naow set your heel agin the side of the haouse. Settey 

 up you heely. No fersten? He's so ol' he's forgot his own 

 langwidge." 



With Antotne's help, the old man was backed up to the 

 wall with his heel against the mop-board and Uncle Lisha 

 stooped over his foot with a sharp-pointed jack-knife 

 poised threatingly above his toes which were instinctively 

 curved. 



"Quit a-wigglin', yer dumbd ol' toes. I haint a goin' 

 tu jab 'em. No wiggly paw de toe. There, I thought I 

 could make you ondestan'," and he succeeded in driving 

 his knife in the floor at the end of old Justine's big toe. 

 He transferred the measurement to the pine stick and 

 marked it by a notch as he did several circumferences ob- 

 tained with a stiing, and pronovmced the preliminary 

 labor accomplished, and the old Canadian drew on his 

 boot with an air of great relief. 



The clatter of dinner-getting was a signal for the de- 

 parture of the visitors, who went forth to find the storm 

 spent and the landscape smothered to silence in universal 

 whiteness, and to make their way homeward by un- 

 marked highways and by-paths. 



EOWLAND E. EOBINSON. 



* "Down to the crystal streamlet 

 I strayed at close of day, 

 Into its limpid waters 



I plimged without delay. 

 I've loved thee long and dearly, 

 I'll love thee, Sweet, for aye." 

 —From "Songs of Old Canada," translated by William McLennan. 



THE SAGINAW CROWD. 



Pilgrimage of 1 892.— V. 



(Concluded from page 3S0.') 



The morning was not promising for a fair day. 

 The dark clouds indicated that the ride would by no 

 means be a pleasant one. As the day progressed the 

 storm did not increase, but the air was heavy with smoke 

 from some distant prairie fire, that at times seemed to be 

 quite near us. Breaking camp did not take long. About 

 the meanest thing to pack are the kerosene lamps. We 

 usually take one or two tin reflector lamps along to hang 

 up on the tent pole. It makes camping more cheerful, 

 and they are easily transported. At the same time the 

 chimneys had to be packed and unpacked every night, 

 and the oil emptied back into the can after we had done 

 using them. Seib had seemed anxious to have some par- 

 ticular task allotted to him, and it was suggested that he 

 be appointed cleaner and trimmer of lamps. This ar- 

 rangement was made early on the start out, but he soon 

 fell into his bad old ways of imagining he saw game on 

 the neighboring hillsides about the time that lamps were 

 due. He did take care of them one morning, and that 

 was the end of it; so we excused him, and the not pleasant 

 task fell into the hands of whoever happened to think of 

 it. 



We made an early start, and the morning passed un- 

 eventfully. A few antelope were seen, an occasional 

 wolf, and a shot or two taken at a grouse that happened 

 to be near the road. There are not many birds to be 

 found away from the river and the ranch houses. We 

 arrived at the H. A. ranch in good condition and early in 

 the day. The horses were given a feed, and, with the 

 kind assistance of the Texas-despising cook, Harrison set 

 out his usual bill of fare. We left a quarter of one of 

 the deer with the cowboys, took some more snap shots 

 with the kodak, and were soon on our way again. Here 

 we left the Kid, where he was to put in a long, cold 

 winter line-riding. The more soberly inclined took him 

 one side and gave him lots of advice. Boys of this kind 

 are apt to sow wild oats with a very prodigal hand when- 

 ever they come to the settlements, and the Kid had 

 boasted of several exploits that were not to his credit, but 

 when his home in far-off Iowa was called to his mind, 

 and a picture of his mother and the family fireside drawn 

 in tender colors by the Doctor, we know there was a good 

 deal of good in him yet, and that his heart was in the 

 right place, for it brought the glistening drops into his 

 eyes. It is not to be wondered at that these youngsters, 

 away from all restrictions, and having only the rough 

 amusement that they can get from occasional visits to 

 the village bar-room, get to be, to draw it mildly, pretty 

 tough. 



We were all feeUng well, the horses were in good con- 

 dition, and we sped along the i-oad toward civilization at 

 a merry gait. Our destination that afternoon was In- 

 dian Springs, our first camping ground on the way out. 

 It was a good long drive, but we had the entire after- 

 noon to make it in, as we had gotten such an early start 

 in the morning. The little wolf Briggs was contrary, not 

 disagreeably so of coure, but still it had cropped out at 

 odd times for the past week. Whether it is a habit he 

 has contracted from living an immarried life of forty odd 

 summers and one or two more winters I don't pretend to 

 say; but the fact exists beyond controversy that that 

 morning he had developed a full supply of disagreernent. 

 He objected to Jack's shaving before we broke camp^ 

 said there was no use in using up our limited supply of 

 soap in useless and wasteful ways. Now, Jack's whiskers 

 are no disfigurement to his little "j)runes and prisms" 

 mouth, but the boys did not resent this and thought there 

 was shght ground for Briggs'e objection, knowing that 

 this was aU that Jack had used of the soap to date. But 

 when we lunched and all partook of the yaw onions with 



