Brother Cox's Mistake.

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume XXII, Issue 3067, 12 January 1894, Page 3

Brother Cox's Mistake.

THE STOANOE STORY OF A , QUAKER'S WOOING.

The little Quaker community of Hinsboro had been invaded by two s worldling thai summer, which had so disturbed its wonted quietness that Br<#k«r, Cox had been forced to lament more thai* once, ' Alas, that this should be ! The days of our peace , Brother , Cox felt the trouble more than the other members of the community, he knew that he was partly for it. To think t&at liis nephew, his ov)^ brother's son, should come out to Hinsboro and m these few short months raised such a commotion among the people ! # , But there was a redeeming virtue in the young man which Brother Cox dwelt upon with a feeling of relief . Before the saucy face and blue eyes of Ella Stratton were seen in Hinsboro, Jack Cox was as quiet and demure as the most conservative Quaker. True, he orily attended meetings once a week, and then it was only out of respect for his undue; but lie never entered into the gay lite which had since shocked the sentibilities of the Quakers. ' Naturally, Brother Cox took a personal dislike to the new tenants of the deserted cottage on the outskirts of thyo village, and he could scarcely conceal his disapproval of the young girls actions. He felt convinced that she wag at the bottom of all the trouble. « ; Her showy dross, pink cheeks, blue eyes and rippling laughter suggested the world too atrpng for the Quakers to enjoy. •|she belongs to the world, -Brother Qox said one day as he passed her. 'She has no right out here among our .peaceful people. It will be well for us when she leaves.' • They were only summer tenants, and oonsisted simply of Mrs Stratton, her daughter, and two servants. They did sot exhibit much wealth or fintry, butto the plain Quakers their dress $M genial appearance seemed altogatte out of propriety. Then the t #srJ3)a laughed and tramped over the fields on foot or rode on horseback shocked^, Qs % good ? housewives. Jack Cox had known the family in the cityj and he Boon joined iMa in these rides and walks. \ It was from such a simple beginning that the\ trouble arose.. The old en* tic^meit of woman hjad led the young man astray, and he was soon looked uj>on as being as, great a sinner as <4e '$$*- -*^PW^t' . TO 16 two were •pracrfjir • 'cally ostracised in tne community, and the upright quakers passed |hem with oufy ;w $nd a simple wbr4 of greeting. Ella only but JACk shrugged his shoulders. ' *■*> Brother Qox was inclined to be more lenient than the others. His fields stretched nearly out to the cottage of the and he would often stop , M| ,^ork to glancje at the^red aousei One gag ne paused in ins labours, ana ±1 $r? f -**£$?#• SJie was leaning on the, f%je whicfe separated the two grounds. : v ... - ; <Don?t you get tired oiwor& M* i 'Co±V t :ffi i ,tuik&7m,& sweet voice. s t do, djreadfully, and you are older than lain.' .'".'"'. " ■'.' ..-"*:'... i „- : . "'■ • ' tfne good Quaker straightened him* sell |putq Ids fa 1 ! six f ee^ >„ Bo was^ Still % fine-looking man of $Hy,j jefth arey locks, a cajm, mjbte face, an 4 dark eyes: '/ *', ;\:'~ " , I T mischief' M answered s^o^sTy?; / ; -■ r * I know that, 'and '% : suppose yoii think 1 OugKt to Ise? at work now, an<J not standing nefe r to bother you/ she Jeped. iy ' ' ■: "V ' ' ■'::"'■': « It #o«ld1)e for you,' was the rather unexpected reply . I The girlV cheeks coloured a little, at the ung*Uant words, but she asked demur^y: - } J 4 1J)O you think I'm so very wicked ?*} SJf&L &re of world and worldly^ minded. I cannot judge thee, but thy actions ijtf&e not. my appspval. J '01^, wlatdo I do that you don't like?* she asked, in a penitent voice* t*Ybti know Fve been brought up so j and how could I know what to do V "'* srue^* mused Brother Cox, wiping nS Jwrbw\ ' $he sin is not ' so much yours' as those who have broucrht thee is^ ■' ■• : •■••■■.■■ ; \ ■;; ■ 'Then mamma and papa must be ?* Ws $$ TO C^ question? * 1 ■wonH believe' j^a^; fo^ I^ey J^a^ always beien so good to me ; mamma is and papa was before— he died.' t * Well, caild, ye can't blame them,' Brother Cox said, consolingly, noticing the distrees of his young visitor. M 1 Who can I blame, Sien ? Is it my grandmother and grandfather; or their; grandmothers and grandfathers?' ' That isn't the question ; ye can do be«fe?»O!w»' ' Oh, I would like to do better— so much! Wi& .jbou tell me how? I should SO much like to have you, for I % l^you*' ,/ ,:, r . :■ .. „ .v- - *&w: was J saict ; Js artlees and innocent a tone that it went straight home to tibie man's heart: As he walked away from the place five minute|*#^nf re^leT tne look irhieh accompanied the words, a f ace, sxioh eyes, mouth and expression are not often seen in this prosaic world, an& £*oth« Cox ahould be forcjivfin, f or Jhinting of them again ana juien again., He never knew before how pretty and winning lite *Sti»tton'girlwaß.6 ;< * / 'If sp was only "of our belief and number,* he muttered to himself. tJ ßut I might try to make her one. She is not yet lc«t to wickedness. She wants to learn. PU teach "tor.* v After that the bH rail fence, proved a regular trysting-place fer "laic I^trb.' Ella found plenty of excuses for going

out to the fields, and Brother Cox cultivated the- cornfield near that fence oft ener ; than lilsewnere.J IMe 4 weeds persisted in cropping up on the west side of the field, and he felt bound to keep them under control. Oneday Ella brought some lemonade out to him, carrying it in a small silver pitcher. It ; was? some of her own manufacture, and the day; was bo warm that it was very refreshing* . . ,- ; 'Oh, Mr Cox, I have some lemonade for you,' she said, as she hurried over I the ploughed field. 'I hope you like lemonade. • ; I made it myself, and you looked so hot and tired out here in the sun that I had to bring you a drink.' Brother Cox did drink, and smacked his j lips. It was so kind of her to think of him, and while he talked he admired her, bright face and her manners* Could any man look upon such a vision of beauty and not feel his pulsebeat faster ? Cold and dutiful as the Quaker was, there was, still much vitality of youth in his strong frame. After all, he was only a man, and the rights of nature soon broke through all barriers of sect. He loved the beautiful girl who helped him to lemonade. /Was he tox) J 6ld for'such a bright girl to look upon "with favour? He had been called the hiEuiidfomesti man of thiß community before he (jourted his dead wife, and he was sure that he still possessed some of the requisites of a lover. Bui she was a girl of the world, and , not accustomed to : the prosaic life of the Quakers, , Would she be contend to l|ye^ his large, gloomy house, and try "lto make it I bright and comf ortable f him ? I He could teacn her the ways of his sect, and give her a fine home. He would gradually draw her away from the ways of evil, and centre her mind upon thoughts of love, charity, and 3»ligion. ■■■■,%■ *■ . .: > -,■•<?■'.. 'She may be frail now, but the sturd^oa^\|as pnce^ni; p, sajping,' he said. 'She can learn and grow.' He trod the floors of his old home with a lighter and firmer step. The bareness of the old-f aahioned rooms impressed him with a sense of dissatisfaction.i t , Xhs Sowers ans vine* around the house needed cultivation and pruning,, and even the outside of the housf*w^lKrn^ed: inW coat of :^aint.--- '"• -y-\ -n -■■■:■■, ■ ' X t \ v * I've thought of doing this before. Brother Cox muttered, 'and it may be done^nowl' * ? - : '/ ••■ '■: ■' ' ■■■■ •' -\ \ There were improvements about the yard; the gardens and the outbuildings which were readily suggested to Ms critical eyes; He made notes of these things, and resolved to make a, coin* plete transformiition. ■ n - ; * She has been brought up in the ways, and she would not like to come io a gloomy house. It will be just as well to improve things a little at first. She can't groW inlx> our ways^at once.' The golden harvest of the was approaching. The^ crops, nodded obeisance to the reapers on every side. The autumn colours suggested peace and quietness in the $om--murity after the toilsome days of the ;sunimer, .:. ; ; ■'; / '. . „ ... ..,. j ; Brotifcier Cox stood fey the old fence separating his fields from the garden surrounding the tenant's cottage. The day's work had been finished and the faint shadows, suggested the approach of twiliglit»l Mia Strattpnj with a meek, demure face, was standing before him. ' Ifeel that I; have become so much better this sumiqieav- «he said. 'You know why ; you have been so good to me, and have taught me so much.' ' You should not say that, for it might make me vain.- Such a *?in should not come to me at my age— r' * T^y^ you, are not .^ld, Jfo; Cox.' the stiipy frame, ahd it seemed to straighten more erectly than, ever. .* my erraiid here will be made easier for me, ' Ye fa^ow.ijxat I have come her¥ for^ a^turpole^ Ye have; 1 Yesf Mr Cox, I have,' was the quick; ievty, While tfce ' feUJe flushM> beatrfclfully. ;; ; ' / f This must be the way of the world, 'tie thought, for the girl to make such -advances; It Was so different in the; community. ■ ! ' I would have spoken to thee be-i fore, but I wished to faiow th^e; fetter. That's- why J^ve'erbent soj many hours at this fencfe taming to thee.' * Oh, how kinH^of^youl* € wanted to kriowryou better, to 6. I thought probably; you would dislike me. I wasu so ; different from you— and wicked.'^' : .'---”- -. :' : * -V-' / ::' - ■ ;- ■• But ye are learnMg our ways, and ye ar^ very apt. Ye can be very good, and there is nothing like haying ■^— a protector.' r ■ . ( d *And; such a good protector^ iw I shall have!' she said/ witha look: of admiration at him. r«- -*«> *!Te ar^kin^tp say so. r poxes haye always befioi good to their wives and families. 1 ■*■ c lknowtettfte f toyAso good to ■ everyone : now. '.•■'■ I love them. I beKevetbat I^loye tibe whole family. I never enjoyed a summer so much as tibis one in Hiiisbord.' ■ ;' ■ # It was so gracefttl for lier to say H ! He Mftljai^ejQ^eJ^po^easy. How i^nM^aHiaiMt.snerhad divined his feeling>ll albn^'f n 'Then ye Itink that I will suit #ice f Tie asked, in a voice tliat was almost railleryV J 1 T^e liaVe studied me enough at tiKas' .fence ?* ' I * Yes, I know! shall like you. I knew it from the first. Everybody thought that you were so cold and stern that you couldn't love anyone, but I knew Merently. I liked you then, and jio^llove vou\' i She kissed nis^rawnv han<t unpnlbively, her warm lips sending "a delicious thrill through him. This was

not an old man's courting, .. but a young woman's, and though ? Gt*ttnge to Brother Cox, it had a sweetness that drowned any thoughts of wrong, * She's a frail little Max? he thought ; * but she*B loving ana she's good. She only needs sametinte to trainher. ? „. * 33^it, ye IcnQw, IV old, and sometimes cross,' he said, deprecatingly. ' I am past fifty.' « That is not very^old, and I like old men ; and you have such a manly form, and beautiful hair and ways. I shall always be t»roud of youl' T ' pushed with^ his success, he 1 felt titat Jie could be plainer, and h6 continued——' "'■■ . ' ' : -'; : '";' ! * Ye know ¥m strict in my living, jnot approving frailties andapay. life. That should repel thee.' ° - <oh, no. Jack told me all about that at first. He said you were strict^ but that you had a Ibying heart be* neath it all. lie always got along well with you, and he knew that I would.' Jack, Jack ! Had he Jknown of it all ? Had he been putting her up to this strange wooing, laughing in his sleeve at his uncle's sentiment ? Tn^ girl continued rapidly— n * He wanted to speak to you first and tell you. all. H© knew 4ss yini would disprove Of our match, bjit J told him not to tell you. Iwould first win your friendship anS lten yout loyei I would meet you every day, and if I could make you like me by autumn then he could tell you I didn'j; know as I could nlaity him* if you didn't give your consent, but I found how nice and good yOji were, % felt that it was all right.' ; V I A shadow^^ seemed 'to settle over the landscape. EvQiryiidng appeared dark. Night must be . approaching, and a man^s eyes atipty are not as good as at twenty *&yei < Brother Cox heard the voice of the girl, but it all seemed so strange. He had not thought of Jack. - - :■' •■•.>•.{ * £re you going now ? Oh, yef/> it is getting dark. I didn't realise ttiat it was so late. I must go baAk to the wm ( wgkt tl Jaol: an 4 X will umem lpjra you-ralwayjß,! f ; | n He ielt the rpressure of the warm lips o* his hand again, but they did not send a thrill ttasjughhrai i as ; ljw fore. It certainly } was dark walking across the field, and several times Brother Cox stopped tod&ndhis :yfos\ It was strange that he should getlosf in the fields which fie lia4 tij^ed cullOTte^ for for^y yeais/ re^^^h^use he felt tired, and he re^B^on-the front piazza before} entering the. large dining-room. ; He seemed I>■ dazed and uncomfortable, The painters and carpeiiteis hatt ; le^ their tools around, ; reminding jbM" hi the improvements he was having : &ade in his home. They^seemied a m6<&eryj '.:}:^ He entered^the house and walked, across, the-strong floors. Then he strolled towards the dining-room. Jack, where are ye? I want to see thee. Come, here ! I know all— everything. She has ' told me, and ye have my approval. I'm; getting the house fixed up, an&' ye must come here and live.' . ' ! 'Is it really true, xincle ? You are as good as you are Eondsome, uncle.j [Ella always said you were^ , : ?,--h , < | \ *Ye must live here every .summer, I and come and sea me as often as ye can in winter.' ';■' - ; - ;' | i 'We will, uncle.' ; ; \

1 The great fire at Damascus, which was briefly reported by cable frpml London, resulted in $ie .desiractiojß of! a large part of the fifreat Mosque, iihe most important building in the oity. The total damage caused by the &re 1b! estimaiied at £5b0,000. The: Cttelp! Mosque at Damascus was one;^ilfhe! finest buildiiigs in the r' t !EasJfc^ tHe interior dimensions being 43l& ; jbng! l>y 125 ft wide. It was divided intothree aisles pf .eojiaj. breadth, by two ranges, pf Corinsuan coiuinns 22ft= hig£, ; and suppprtang round arches. In the centre was a dome resting on four massive piers, i There were three minarets, one of them being 250 ft 1 high, apd UjDon this, ac(3oraiiig to Moslem^ tradition, (^rist would 4©s^?i^ o^n %c day pf jua^me^fc. Theiou?idations an5 r exljeripr colonnades :if ere those of a (Jreek or Koman temple. Above these were the round-topped windows and ornamental doorway of an early Christian church, and finally tne minarets; domes, and arcades of Saracenic construction. TThderneafli the dome there was said to be a cave in which the head of John the Baptist was preserved in a golden caskeit. ., 4 •Th« Sydney Morning^Herald has been^ favoured by the^on. W. B. Campbell, MX.Cc, wiQi the following extract from a conmiunication receive^ by hjm from Mr .Adams, his manager at Tryannon station, Mclntyre Eiver : -r- «On Tuesday, the 10th instv '4 tremendous storm of hail passed over the head staton, pieces of ice, measuring 2^m. in length, MKng. /Thef storm was apparently half a mile wide, and in its course iHe hail cut off every^Wade of grass and clovefrj andnot a vegetable above ground is left in the garden." It killed all sorts of birds, including crows, magpies,, wood and black duck, 20 turkeys, and many fowls. All exposed windows in the house were smashed, " and the hay crop, that was looking so well, wascnt down inch-by-inch and completely destroyed. An inch and 22 points of rain fell during the time. -

I Subscribers will please leave word at the office, should they not receive their paper regularly, and the emission wil be immediately rectified.