PASSING OF SQUIRE THORNDYKE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 306, 26 December 1936, Page 13

PASSING OF SQUIRE THORNDYKE.

An Unexpected Spirit Oi Charity

A Christmas story that has in it all of the "peace and goodwill" which are component parts of Christmas is contained in one of the letters which the late A. M. Hopkins, of Cincinnati, U.S.A., used to send to friends at the Yuletide season. This particular letter was sent to Joseph Warren Silliman, secretary of the Board of Highway Supervisors in Philadelphia and a boyhood friend of Mr. Hopkins. The incident related in the letter, according to Mr. Silliman, occurred in Mr. Hopkins' former hdhie on the Western Reserve, near Ashtabulu, Ohio, where Mr. Silliman formerly lived. "May I take you back over the years to a Christmas as we lived it then?" the letter read. "Imagine a house filled with love and mystery; a great fire in the fireplace, dqi'k as Egypt outside and light and warm and happy within. The fine old fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers were children for a day. "I told Artist Bushnell about one oi those long ago C'hristmases, and he smiled and said: 'I don't need a word. I lived it, and I'll live the romance and joy of it as I draw the picture for your Christmas greeting.' So study Buslinell's wonderful illustration, and if you are in the sixties, with gray hairs, you'll find your heart yearning for old times and the people you once loved. "Now I'll tell you a 6tory, and it begins in the bitter winter of 1879, when Squire Thorndyke died. "The cracked bell on the old church clanged away—Bl, 82, S3, and the snow was blowing great guns. Every soul in the village knew that Edward Fitzliugli Lee Thorndyke ' had been gathered to his lathers, and not a tear was shed. How are you going to be sorry for a person whom no one knew? He had lived a life that was as full of flint as a grindstone. Children feared him and some men respected him because they owed him money. He had shaved notes and driven hard bargains all his life. "He had lived alone in the old home on South Main Street, and it would be difficult to tell you how much alone he had lived. At night there was never more than one feeble light in liis front room. He made a daily trip to the post office, replied to salutations with a curt nod and went his way. He had, perhaps, unconsciously, built up a wall that separated him from his fellows. "If love had ever entered Squire Tliorndyke's life we did not know it. Ho had sneered at the Church and refused to contribute to it or to any known charity. He lived a mournful, dried up existence and his soul, if he had one, rattled in his spare body like seeds in a gourd. "How does he find a place in my Christmas story? He finds it because he belongs- there. He belongs to life and light and smiles and good cheer; belongs to the spirit of human affection and all the emotions that play a part in human happiness. _ ' Seldom is any man as bad as we think he is. "So the old squire has passed on and his frail body was laid away m the cemetery and the snow hid his restm 0 place in a mantle of white. All-over the village the big question was, .Who sgets his money?' He hadn t a a child, or a relative, and I could almost say. that he had never friend. "I don't care if a man's cheque is good at the bank for a million dollars if .'he hasn't a friend, he is poor to the miserable depths , of poverty. "I peeked into the window of the old Thorndyke place. There ,was a grate, a bookcase, a split bottom ash cliair .a few law books, and oak walking stick, a bi" desk, a few faded pictures, and that was all- A dressing gown, sop to luxury, hung overacliair r dollars would have paid for the w~, «**«* in the top drawer of the desk thej found a mass of papers and a e had set his house in order. He was through with this twisted world and - -was "lad of it. He said so m his SUtay handwriting. of the people with whom he had liyeci so man P y years, and requeuedl the minister to take possession. of all of the documents and to read an open letter at the annual Christmas celebi - tion in the church. He closed lth'Please' do all that I ask and realise that at the end of life an old man has (Us covered that in this worU no wan can live happily unto himself alone It was signed, Edward Fitzliugli Lee Thorn dy that happened in early; Decern and a blustering December it was the kind of wither that spelled ! for a bov such as I was. Snowdi llts that hid the fences, paths to be dug the orchards laden with snow until it seemed that the trees had ice Gin thick on Pierce's pond, wood fires Mowing in the little houses, people living out of their cellars, bedrooms icy cold and boys and girls taking hot' bucks to bed with them, pure air. so cold that it was difficult to breathe And yet were happy, for we had red cheeks and cood appetites. We lived primitively and well. Our resources were small and so were our wants. Ahead of us was the annual Christmas tree and wl y shouldn't we be happy? Our little world loved us and we loved it. "I like to think about it and visualise it, and the years drop from my shoulders, and in fancy I hear the merry music of sleigh-bells and the laughter of boys and girls. _ "So we come to the big night in the brick church, and it was crowded. There were children everywhere and much laughter. I had achieved fame because, for°tlie first time, my name was in the list of those who would take gifts fiom the tree, read the names alo.ud and hand the objects to the ushers. We san D the old songs and the organ wheezed musically, for it was very old. We sang with light hearts about the Christ Child and Heaven and angels, and over on the other side of the church I saw a flesh and blood angel, with golden hau, and she was one Mattie Miller, my- is .» and I was supremely happy. H was as sweet as t'he notes of a , she went to - the platform and recited, 'The Night Before Christmas, and nothin"- could be grander. . "Well, we ate popcorn and candy and went through the programme am 'Bronze Beard' was the life of the occasion. He looked like a blesse > and how we all loved him! „ "Then there was silence,, befittm a great moment about to arrive. _, _ minister wiped his glasses, took a folded paper from his pocket, held up a hand, " Ul "'My d good friends, for at least 50 venrs a man has lived alone m lis village. He barred out of his life about all of the impulses that make oui da} s

sweet and our nights calm. He had a heart of gold and did not know it until his life .journey was almost through. He amassed a fortune and during the past few months he has been quite busy repairing the great wrong that lie had done to himself. If the world suffered by reason of his acts, he suffered far more. I can do no better than to read the intimate letter that he has left for all of you.' "You may ask how do I remember the letter. I don't remember it. It is a. part of the village records in the township clerk's ollice, yellow with age, and I copied that letter less than a year ago, feeling that it was a message of love and toleranpe for the world. Read it. " 'To my people: '"For you are all the people I have had and in the long years I have grown to respect you and to love you. " 'It is not necessary to tell you how or why I kept myself out of your lives. For years I have hated my kind and the feeling grew 011 me until lonesomeness and God mellowed me. I found more pleasure in driving hard bargains than in doing kind acts. A little at a time I separated myself from you. " 'I lived alone and the good God only knows how utterly alone I have been in my declining years. No man can live unto himself alone. I found that out and was too proud to make the first advances. I craved the love of children, the neighbourliness of all of you. I wanted your respect and even your affection. I kept my emotions a secret. I was wrong. I had not even one friend to take my hand and call me brother. As best I could I have made restitution. I wrested money from the world, and I have restored it. Money cost mo my happiness. " 'You will find in this envelope 31 first mortgages. I have cancelled all of them. They are to be made a matter of record and you will find money to pay the recording charges. I have used in the past few months all of my available resources in what seemed to me to be good deeds, and this anonymously. I have lifted'the church debt and deeded my home to our little college. riease give the furnishings, meagre as tliey are. to those who can make good use of them. • I have disposed of all of my possessions with the exception of 30 dollars. This should pay for my funeral. "'I do not want my passing to in any manner blight your Christmas celebration. In the spirit I shall 'be unafraid and I will be near you as these lines are read. Ts it too much that I shftuld wish all of you a merry Christmas and call myself your friend? — Edward Fitzliugli Lee Thorndyke.' "We did not clieer at first, because we were stunned, and then there was a burst of applause. As usual, at great moments, some of the good women were crying. They do that when they are happiest. Our minister wiped his eyes and said: 'How poor is he who bars love from his heart. No sermon that I have ever preached could thrill the heart strings as has this simple letter of a man who found himself and the real meaning of life in his final days. Peace to his ashes. I' hope and believe that he lms awakened in a place where there is, light and laughter, kindness, justice and human love without limit. Start the organ. Let us fsing from our hearts, 'Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow.' " "There is my Christmas story, as simple as an old song. 'I he lesson is one of goodness that belongs to mankind and circles the earth. It makes for our greater happiness. As I see it, it is the one- great blessing that God gives us to guide our footsteps as we journey along, and that we take with us when the last call comes. "Merry Christmas!"