NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
11 
THE STORY OF DEACON BROWN. 
. A May-time Ballad. 
By JOSEPH A. TORREY. 
Have you heard the story of Deacon Brown? 
How he came near losing his saintly crown 
By uttering language so profane — 
But it wasn’t his fauit as I maintain. 
Listen, Maria, and you will see 
How it might have happened to you, or me. 
An excellent man was Deacon Brown 
As ever lived in Clovertown; 
Bland of manner and soft of speech, 
With a smile for all and a word for each. 
“There’s odds in deacons,” as I’ve heard tell, 
But one who had known him for quite a spell, 
Has often told me that Brown stood well, 
Notonly in church, but among his neighbors, 
Esteemed and loved for his life and labors. 
Not a man in town at Brown could frown, 
There wasn’t a stain on his fair renown; 
His soul was white, though his name was 
Brown. 
In all the village without a peer, 
A saint without reproach or fear, 
With guileless heart and soul sincere, 
Him might even St. Paul revere. 
One morning the Deacon started down 
To get some goods at the store in town; 
Sugar and salt and a calico gown, 
And a pair of shoes for the youngest Brown, 
With other things which he noted down. 
A good provider was Deacon Brown. 
His guileless heart was light as a feather 
As he rode along in the sweet May weather, 
Till he came at length to the garden gate 
Of the widow Simpson and there did wait 
For a moment’s chat with the pious dame, 
Who, years a gone was the Deacon’s flame. 
The Widow Simpson was meek and mild, 
With a heart as pure as an innocent child. 
She dwelt in a cottage small and neat, 
A little way back from the village street; 
And now, in sun-bonnet, with trowel in hand, 
Was tickling the soil of her garden land. 
The widow looked up and said, ‘“‘ Du tell! 
Is that you, Deacon? [hope you’re well?” 
And the Deacon replied to the gentle dame, 
“Quite well, I thank you. I hope you’re the 
same.” 
Then they talked of the crops and the late 
Spring storms, 
Of the sparrowgrass and the currant worms, 
And she asked the Deacon what she should do 
For the varmints that riddled her bushes 
through. 
The Deacon, scratching his head, said,‘‘Well, 
If I were you I would give ’em hel—” 
He bore too hard on the fence as he spoke, 
When suddenly, swiftly, down it broke, 
And prostrate there at the Widow’s feet, 
Lay the fence and the Deacon pale as a 
sheet! 
The Deacon’s pride was sadly humbled, 
His teeth dropped out and he wildly mumbled 
As blindly there in the dirt he fumbled. 
And the Widow’s faith as suddenly crumbled 
When she saw how her good friend Brown 
had stumbled, 
And her beautiful fence to the ground had 
tumbled, 
While it seemed to her that an earthquake 
rumbled ; 
In fact, as you see, things were generally 
jumbled. 
The Widow turned pale, and well she might, 
As she looked on the ruin with womanly 
fright, 
But her pious soul was shocked still more 
As she thought ’twas an oath the Deacon 
swore ! 
The Deacon, too, in his grief intense, 
_ Was afraid he had given the Widow offence, 
He looked around in a vague surprise, 
While he tried to dam the tears that would 
rise, 
Of pain and shame, in his dust-filled eyes. 
But when he recovered his teeth and sense, 
He borrowed a hammer and fixed the fence, 
And endeavored with meekness to explain 
His late remark which was cut in twain 
By the fall of the fence and his own sad fall. 
“He hoped she’d not think him profane 
at all ; 
No man could say that he ever swore; 
He was only speaking of Hellebore, 
A drug for the bug that her bushes bore.” 
I cannot tell all that the Deacon said, 
But he started for home with an aching head 
And a heavy heart that could not rest, 
For a guilty feeling was in his breast, 
Which he couldn’t get rid of, try his best. 
And the Widow, too, was ill at ease 
In spite of the Deacon’s apologies. 
She left the garden, went up the stair, 
Threw herself into her rocking chair, 
And rocked androcked till the soothing balm 
Of breeze and sunshine made her calm. 
Then searched her Bible to find a text 
Tosomewhat ease her mind perplext, 
For her righteous soul was sorely vext, 
And she wondered ‘‘ Whatever will happen 
Next” 
She thinks, to this day, as I’ve heard her say» 
“Brown shouldn’t have spoken in just that 
way,” 
But as for myself, I question whether, 
Had he just put his syllables nearer together, 
There had been the least trouble or scandal, 
but then 
Such mistakes will occur with the wisest of 
men, 
MORAL. 
In viewing such things with our moral eyes 
There’s a tendency, always, to moralize. 
And this is a moral I offer for all: 
When you think you are standing, take heed 
lest you fall! 
RUSSIA. 
Her Advances Toward the Far East Since the 
13th Century. 
A hundred years hence more his- 
tory will be written concerning Russia 
than any other nation. Since the 
Scandinavian prince, Ruric, in the 
ninth century, won the territory from 
Ladoga to Kief, the conquest of ter- 
ritory by the Russian princes has 
been steadily increasing. So far 
Russia has seldom taken a backward 
step. At times she has been halted 
in her career of conquest, but eventu- 
ally her point has been gained. 
Whether the affair upon her eastern 
borders will prove an exception or 
not, remains to be seen. 
While attention at present is 
focused upon her actions, it is in- 
structive to briefly glance at her rapid 
steps towards the Far East. To do 
so we must revert to the thirteenth 
century, when the progenitors of the 
mighty empire of today were confined 
to the present European boundaries 
and subdivided into many independent 
provinces, each a source of disunion, 
revolt,—a continuous state of war- 
fare. 
In 1236 the Tartar chieftan,; Baaty 
Khan, grandson of the famous Gen- 
gis, invaded the country which fell 
an easy prey to hishoardes. Discord 
and terror reigned for two hundred 
and fifty years, then Ivan I, the De- 
liverer, laid the foundations of 
Russia’s mcdern power. In 1470 he 
conquered Great Novgorod, a city so 
powerful as to have previously defied 
with impunity both Russian authority 
and Tartar vandalism. In 1480 Ivan 
broke the tyranny of the Khipsack 
Khans and totally destroyed their 
power. 
The Turks, at this time, captured 
Constantinople, supplanting the Greek 
Church with Mohamed’s star and 
crescent. Ivan immediately — ex- 
changed his title of “Grand Prince”’ 
for Czar, (Czesar). Ivan’s. grandson, 
Ivan, the Terrible, permanently de- 
stroyed the Tartar power by his con- 
quest of Kasan in 1552. Within two 
years he had subdued Astrakan and 
on the shores of the Caspian planted 
the Greek cross a perpetual menace 
to the Star and Crescent. 
Ivan II was a stern and relentless 
ruler, yet he instituted the work of 
civilization in his empire so ably car-. 
ried on by Peter, The Great, by in- 
troducing the arts and sciences of 
western Europe and encouraging the 
settlement within his domains of Ger- 
man and Flemish artisans. At this 
time Richard Chancellor reached the 
mouth of the Dwina in the White 
Sea. Ivan welcomed him to Moscow 
with great honor. An English-Rus- 
sian treaty was signed and Archangle 
was built, opening northern Russia 
to trade and civilizatlon. 
Promptly following the conquest of 
Kasan, the Russians settled in the 
province, and Strogonoff, a merchant, 
established salt works upon the 
banks of the Kama. Trading with 
the natives he noticed some strangers, 
who said they came from Sibir, a 
country ruled by a Tartan Khan. He 
sent spies into their country who re- 
turned with the finest of sable skins. 
Strogonoff very promptly notified the 
government of the source ot his new 
commodity and was rewarded with 
large grants of land at the confluence 
of the Tschinsova and the Kama, in 
the present province of Perm. So 
rich did he become that his descen- 
dants, the Counts Strogonoff, are well 
known to be the most wealthy of the 
Russian nobility. 
As the discovery of gold opened up 
California, so the sable gave Siberia 
to the Russians. Ivan followed up 
his advantage and sent troops into 
Siberia and the Siberian Khan, Jedi- 
ger, bowed to his power and promised 
an annual tribute of 1,000 sable pelts. 
The tribute was faithfully paid till 
another Tartar, Kutchum Khan, de- 
[Continued on page 19.] 
