JIMMIE THE RAG.

Press, Volume LVIII, Issue 11151, 18 December 1901, Page 4

JIMMIE THE RAG.

By A. F. Jfc.l "Jimmy the Rag" was the oddity of. our little township. He had a good many odd points . and knobs about Mβ character that made him a noticed man among us. He was never known tinder any other-title than "Jimmie the Rag." No one knew hie real name, "Jimmie," accompanied by the decoration "the Rag/ was enough for him. About five years ago he came along the road with his swag on his shoulder, and pitched his tent about a quarter of a mile from the village, close to Mr Robertsonte wool shed. His clothes wergjust as ragged then as they are now. They hod been patched and darned quite irrespective of colour. A piece of red flannel had evidently been a great prize to him. It had hMpt'l to repair not only a large rent in the aadr. of hie coat, but also what had The man himself was only in a slight degree less remarkable tbjui the clothes he ■wore. Tall, thin, and witb a xtoop of the shoukters that gave him an appearance of age, which something in his face.and manner seemed to belie. His eyes were dark, and hie beard much beyond the usual length, was black. When sober—and here is implied, his great failings— 4< Jimmie the Rasf was a taciturn man,-rarely speaking unless'spoken to. Not that he waa by any means a gloomy man. He was cheerful enough, and could, when in a good humour, crack .a joke in good Scotch Doric. He clearly hailed from the north of the. Tweed, and many little things about his manner and speech showed -that, at some time in the pact be must have been the aubieot of & good deal of scholastic attention. Thrown away completely were all these anxious effort*? Hα, not 'completely. They hong about him in a pathetio way—4uat a* tthe perfume hangs round the dead flower. The Bwanory of those days when in cap and gown he walked in the glow of 'youth aonoes the college quadrangle still hae power to tear aside his misery, and cause him to smile in his dreame. Now and then, too, as he site smoking aver his fire, the walk of his miserable out fade away from him, and he Iβ again in the ekes roan, looking up at the Professor, whose head is oddly outlined against the stained glass window, and whose kindly, prosy voice comes one© more to his oar, installing those lessons and culture that never leave a man, however battered,about he stay be. The little tent Jimmie erected, on his first coming gradually gave way to what is jmw his hut. A bit-of peeking case, a few logs, a sheet or two of old iron, » sod chimney, and a few board* nailed to* 1 gather for a door cave him all the shelter he sought. . A fittle slit in the wall, covered with a piece of ancient calico, enabled him to see what he~was about. Rough as this where wae, a certain careful cleanliness redeemed it from squalid misery. ' •-. , .'•-,■ "Jimmie the Rag's" arrival in oar parts was only a few montiha later than th«t of the man on whose land he squatted. Mr Robertson at first hardly liked the way in which tlte newcomer continued to stick to the plsoe he had chosen; but, finding him willing to help and to make himself useful at odd jobs,he became reconciled to him. Ready to work and! to exert himself, Jimmie obtained a little work here and there. But whatever he got for it went, less a few shillings for food, into the till of the village publichouee. He. wass never noisy or troublesome in hi* crape. He I would just simply sit and soak; and when his bit of money was gone, retarn and 'sleep himself clear in his hut. He was not altogether given over to (Ids way though, as* many of us could telL He had a peculiar knack of turning up where there was any trouble or sickness. Hi* shoulder was always ready to get under the burden and help. This help* too, he always gave in euoh a quiet, unobtrusive way that his presem»-W4» hardly noticed. Who but he, with staff in hand, carried the cry of the «ick for help by day or i»' the darkest, stormy ui&iht across the thirteen miles of rough bush track tha* separated us from the doctor. People forgot all abont his tattered coats when they saw him stroking the hands of their sick children, or., sitting alongside making toy* for them as they began to get better. He gained the kindly side of everyone, ay, even their respect, too, although he was nothing more than "Jimmie the Rase." "John; have you seen anvthina of Jim-' mie the Rag , lately 1* said Mrs Robertson to her husband at breakfast.

"Well, no: not since, I think, the day before yesterday. Wby?" "I don't know particularly- why j only he generally comes once & day at least. He vras not -here its usual ye*terd»y, and I have Dot noticed any smoke from his ehjmney this morning. If I were you, John, I would look him up during the d»y." , right: but I suppose he » away somewhere. I don't think he is drinking, though, as he has had no vrork or money that I know of for some time."

Mr Robertson knocked at the door of Jtmmie's hut, getting the answer, "Come ia" in a very feeble voice. Mr Koberteon entered, leaving the dooi opeft behind him. As soon as bis eyes became accustomeS to the gSoom he saw the occupant with a very pale face, lying on his bunk. '

4< Why, Jknmiß, what i* the matter?*' said Mr Robertson.

"Oh, nothing particular; only I am no feeling very strong.'* said Jimmie. "Well, yw> don't lpok *t all well. How lone have you been HIT* "No very lang, jiwt- » day or so."' "This will sever do, Jimmie. Wj must see if we cannot do something for you." "Never mind mc. Mr Robertson." I dare say Til be a" wee! in a short time." ■*How are yGu off for food, Jimmie I" , •aid Mr Robertson, looking round the hut vJ&ont seeing a sign of anything to eat.

"I diiuia think there is onvtbing left. Xou see, Mr Robertson, I have uae done ony work lately, and I had nae money to buy ony." "Good God, Jiramie, why did you nofc let us know. 11l just send the wife across. She 11 know much better than I -what to do."- • ■ .■■■•. ' . ■ •-■;.■•■

Jimmie tried to say .something in re* spouse, but a big lamp came in his throat, and stopped him; he was so very weak, you know. "Margaret, you mast make some soap or something, and take i£ over to Jimmie," said Mr Robertson, on his return to his wife. "I never saw anything like that in my life before. I believe the man is just lying calmly down there to die of hunger rather than ask for help. I never dreamt he had co much pride in him." "Poor fellow," said Mrs Robertson, 'Til make up something, and take it over to him."

Jimmie was very grateful to Mrs Robertson.

He soon became quite strong again under her kindly care. From that time he became almost one of the Robertson household. He was constantly about doing odd j S'bs, and always at hand when wanted, c never looked for or expected anything in the shape of wages. Mr Robertson had paid a -very high price for his farm, and every year found it more and more difficult to meet the payment of the interest on the mortgage. For the first few years after he took the farm prices were good. And not foreseeing what was to come he laid "out a good deal of money on improvements, calcula»ting to make the place comfortable for himself and for those who would follow after him. Gradually, however, a cloud of difficulty began to rise. Prices declined. Hie income became less and less, while his outlay sternly stood at the same. Always sanguine, after many anxious talks with his wife, he persuaded hter to place the money she privately possessed into the farm. This, thW-thought, would surely tide them over tse evil time. Darker and darker rose the cloud of misfortune. ' Everything seemed to go wrong. Vainly they tried to find shelter from the coming storm. Hβ sought every source of aid without avail. At last a stony-hearted notice came to him from the_ mortgagee that unless the money were paid foreclosure would take place, and everything would be sold on December 22nd. Mr Robertson was to a certain sense a stranger in the neighbourhood, having come from the south. Hβ had neither friends or relatives who could come to hie aid. \ "Well, Margaret, tiiis is the 19th, We have only a lew more days now in the old place, and then it only remains for us to take our children by the hands, and go out on to the road. It pains roe most of all to think I was so foolish as to take, your Mt of money."

"Never mind the moneys John. It vraa all done as we thought for the best. Don't let us say any more about it. Let us be thankful that we have our health and strength, and when all is over on Thursday we will be able to find somewhere for ourselves. Bear up John, for all our

sakes." Brave little woman, you are but fulfilling nature's destiny that makes your sex the nurse of the wounded and broken in spirit. Bravely she bears up before her husband. Hiding her own almost sinking heart under courageous words. She recalls many and many a plan laid out by herself and John —dreame of happier day*. All now gone. They were 'penniless, and would in a few days be homeless. They hod been so hopeful, that the storm come down and found , them quite unprepared. "Jimmie the Rag" had not failed to notice for- some time past the difficulties and misfortunes that were gradually encircling been a most disastrous tear in a conspicuous part ;of his breeks. A few different colours besprinkled other P&rts of hie garments, ana justified hie distinction, his friends, although he never said a word to them. . On the.evening of the 19th, when he had strained up the milk in the ; dairy, Mrs Robertson coming in with a jug in her Hand, «aid, "Wβ will soon have to part with you, Jimmie." Her eyes were red, evidently from crying. "Oh, and why for that?" asked he, and then disdaining anything in the shape of acting, he quickly added, before jsbe had time tp reply: "I am very sorry, Mrs Robertson, for the bad turn thongs, have taken, but dinna give way; keep up & brave heart; eurely everything e&nna hae passed away from ye. Ye'H "be Able to make a start Again!", ;"No, no, Jimmie, we have lost everyend after the sale we have nowhere to go. and no money to speak of to help us. I do not know what we shall do." Tb» tears thfct had filled her eyes flowed into her voice. Covering her face with her apron, and leaning her* head on the dairy bench, she fairiy sought relief in woman's .refuge—a good cry. Jimmie was touched to the quick. He rubbed his wleeve across hie face. . . ■ - ' "Dinna break down, Mrs Robertson, ,, he said., "The Lord is no aae unmindful. He -will surely,provide in some way. /'.Bear up and place your trust in Him, Just think, o$ the time when I lay deeing frae hunger in the hut yonder, how you and Mr Robert* son wese ch.&aen aa Hie servants to save mc. Surely, surely, He will .sustain and help those whose kindly hands were so' freely stretched out to, help one sac worthless, "Thanks for your kindly words, Jimmie, but it is hard to bear, ,, said Mrs Robertson, raising hex head and passing from the dairy.. r . • . ,

Our store serves for etore and. Postoffice as well. It is also, the gatberißK--1 place for village gossips, especially in tae evening. There they ait about on a beg of naifi or ca?e of kerosene quite, comfortably. The main topic of conversation on the ev«ning of the 19th was Mr Robertson's trouble. Each one but spoke ibfe regretful feeling of the neighbourhood at the' misfortunes that bad fallen upon him. The mail for the evening had been sorted end the letters put aside. Mr Linton, the storekeeper, was moving about-making up a> few parcels for some of his customers then present and joining- a little in the conversation every now and again. -■ That it was a rough sight outside was evidenced by a new arrival who entered the rain from, his coat He was soon followed by our friend "Jimmie the Rag." Kindly voices saluted Jimmie as he came tip to the counter to make his email purchase. "Any letters for mc, Mr Linton?" aeked the customer who hod preceded him. "No, but do you know anyone up your way of the name of Faulde?" "No, I do not. There is no one there of that name.

, "There lias been a registered letter lying here for about a fortnight addressed to 'J. Faulds, Esq./ and now another came by tonight's maiL They both "bear the -Glasgow post-mark. I cannot find out anyone to whom they belong. Jimmie started end approached the counter. "Wand ye moind lettin mc see them, Mr Linton?" said he. „ . ' "Oh, no, Jimmie; here they are. Do you know anyone of the name?" * '•Well,* I ocht tae."' "You don't mean to say they are for you?" .

"Weel, I dinna ken. ' I am quite sure my name is Fauldb and they tei" mc I was christened James or something like it." ■-. ";.■ ; ■••; ' '.: " ■-•;■■ ■- ■■■•-■ ■-;■;■ -

Every ear in the shop was on the alert. Letters for.*'Jimmie the Rag," addressed "J. Faulds, Esq." Here was something to talk and, vrondtr over. .

'"Come round her* Jimmie/ , saM Mr Linton. "I wou'.d like to ask you a few (jaestions before giving you th« letters," "A , right 34r Linton, bat I think I can soon satisfy you that the letters are nxaist likely'for mc." His claim was evidently established for they were handed to 'him. After signing the receipt; he took them in his hand, carefully scanning the band-writing of the address of one. Well he knew it. It was his father's.

"i£ay I gang into your office for a minute while I read this letter."

"Certainly Jimmie, come in here." Jimmie entered and opened the 'etter from his father. Let" Bβ exert our privilege and extract a passage or two from it. "\our uncle Robert died-suddenly on the 15th of August last, leaving everything he possessed to you. That includes a fifth share in the Qestcberrie iron mine* which, in itself, makes you a rich man. His personal property is also* very large. Never having married, and al-wa-ye' being of a saving disposition, he has been able to gather a great deal of money. He was always very fond of you when you w«re i young lad, and was sorely disappointed when you wandered sway after that affair thai grieved us all so much. He promised your mother, on her death-bed, that he

•would do all be could for you, and seems, from the date of the will, to have ratified his promise then. Notwithstanding your strange silence for the last three years, he never altered it. and always spoke of you in a kindly, hopeful way. .Oh. Jimmie, Jimmie, Trill you not piill "paurself together and come home. It was ft great sorrow to mc that last letter I had from you in •which you returned the money. , I am getting well up in years now, and find it becoming harder and harder to manage our increasing business. 'Come home and help mc. There are only the two of us left now Your uncle's lawyers, Messrs Gallacher and' Robbins, are busy putting everything in order, and are only waiting some legal forme before advising you of your uncle's bequest. They may write Sby this mail I send a draft for £500 on the National Bant, Wellington, to pay your expenses home. . - ."The other letter was from Messrs Gallacher and Rflfbbins, intimating the purport of his j uncle's will, and asking for instructions j to act. . . ■ j i For fully five minutes Jimmie. stood almost motionless, with the letters in his hand. Thte memory of olden days spent with this tfnele Robert came crowding upon him. Grand holidays, when the two went fishing together. Many, many words of good, kindly advice from that voice .now stilled for ever were heard once more. Many and many a glance of sympathy from those eyes,, into which he would never look again were remembered, little things that at thte time passed unnoticed and since had almost been forgotten, now came up with , strength and clearness. The image of his father, too, rose vividly before him, and the letter he held in his hand came with such appealing force that he clenched has hands together and bound his mind •with a strong resolve. > ■ Safely securing his letters, Jimmy, forgetting all about Bis purchase, passed through the shop i&to the dark nightClutching his staff, he turned in a direction contrary to his way home, and took the track for Wellington. On through the storm, unusually strong for that time of the year, he went, mile after mile he walked, the rain beating jn his face and driving through his clothes. But he felt it not. However dark and wiLd the night without, within him was the bright summer sunsibine of a happy heart. "Did I no tell them," he kept on himself, "that He was not unmindful." The clear, blue sky of good intention -spread over his mind, anct caused the long miles to pass unheeded beneath bis -weary feet. On, on, through the night he walked, until the dawn of day found him on the outskirts of the city. There, in an old shed, he sat down, sheltering himeelf from the rain and scud that came flying vtp from the harbour. His old friend, a stump of a pipe, helped him to while away an hour or so before taking his way again. Patiently he waited until the bank doors were opened. On presenting his draft the clerk eyed him with a good deal of suspicion. "Where did you get this?" "Oh, I got it in a letter frae home." "When did you get it?" "Last night.' "Are you the person mentioned here?" *H>f course, I "am." The tone of voice in which Jimmie said this ibeing somewfhat louder attracted the attention of the accountant, Mr Worthy, who "vvus passing .close- to the cashier's oesk. Hβ came forward to the counter and at once recognised Jimmie, whom he had seen on several shooting excursions. "What's the matter, Jimmde?" said he in a-friendly .voice., . .... "I hae a bit draft frae. tame- on yer bank, Mr Worthy, but this man does not 'think it is for mc." "Let mc see it, please," said Mr

Worthy." . Seeing the amount he looked somewhat surprised at Jimmie, ;.. "Come round" the -end of the counter to my desk, and we will see about it." Jimmie follpwed his directions, "You'll have

to get some responsible 'body to answer for you, Jimmie, before you oan get, this money," said Mr Worthy, whose long experience and quick. instinct soon led ham to see that the draft was in the right hands. Jimmie thought for a moment. "4,*, Well, the only person I can - think Pre&yiterian; mudeter. JEe kent *<ny" father, yew .-well, ;«nd jn ' past years'knew mc/ ". \\ "Wait, a minute, Jimmie, and I'll take a" walk up to"the"maitse with you. We will eooh get this matter put straight." Out into the now rapidly-filling streets , went these two. Many a wondering pass-er-by turned round to.look after tnexn. Jimmie and his frietod heeded not. Mr Worthy, in his kind, unassuming way, extracting more - information , as to Jimmies past than anyone had ever done before. The interview at the manse was entirely satisfactory, and on their return to the bank the money was placed ready for Jimmie. Mr Worthy, who knew his failing, tried hard to 'persuade him to. leave it with them, and draw.asit was,wanted. -: "No, Mr Worthy, I want this siller to. use in a way that a cheque .'coming from . mc might nort answer. t Ye- mean weel by me', Mr Worthy, and ye. a.re no more fright- - ened of mc than I am of myself. But I feel that this money has been, placed in my hands for a certain, purpose, and I winna touch a penny o' it until I see if there is enough to accomplish His wilL" ; "Very well, Jimmde, you had better put it in bag." Are your pockety all rigbi?" oontinued Mr Worthy, with aUmile. # "Yes; they are sate." > Jimmie having possession of his money was about to leave'the' - when Mr Worthy ms: ■[~..'-. , " ' * . . < ■ "I suppose you will go home by th* mid* day train." ; "Oh, no, I'll just walk back again." .' He had no moneyvto pay iris fare over and above that he held sacred. ' '"Stay a moment, and I'll come and see you outside the town', anyway." ! 4< TKank you, MrlForthy. I ken what'e. in your mmd, and 40 weak, do I feel, that I will not refuse your kindness." . - ■ - Safely past the temptations of the city, I Jimmie set,out stoutly, but with limping :feet, homewards. . His mental struggle during the next two days was extreme. : He had to fight a severe battle with his ' frail nature. Again" and again the tempter came to tun* Armed with the keen .weapons of casuistry. ■ He had plenty of money, , all -bis ovrnJ MoWj far more, than he required, A rest and a glass at yonder wayside hotel would not affect him. It would stay that burning in bis throat. There, how easy to turn aside, ior a few minutes. He need not stay! . How thirsty he felt. The blood seemed,to rise overwhelmingly to his brain. Just one glass, and then on again: It would steady him and give him energy to help him on. A shilling—it'was nothing, and'could not in any way afftct his purpose. There, there is the open door. bee the bott!e3 and everything :ready. . Ah, weel, here goes. Just for one, anyway. No "more than one, though. What a burning be feels in his throat, and what an indescribable drawing towards the liquor. The d«ssire for it grows stronger. The tempter, meeting with opposition, increases his power, and fills the whole being of this victim with a burning, eager longing, that cannot be resisted." He turns from the road and takes the bag Mr Worthy bad'given him from bia pocket. With trembling, eager lingers he proceeds to untie the tape. That momentary pause saves him.; Through the dark cloud that shrouds his brain comes the still small voice, "Stop, Jimmie, atop! Once you yield and take the drink, your money will all go. . Put it away, again, and carry out your resolve." He returns the bag to his pocket, and plods on again. Drags himself away, tottering manfully under chains that, if unseen, aps not the less material in strength. He has gained a victory, mere (difficult to obtain than many a more glorious one. On his way I through the village he" calls for his purchase, and on his arrival home throws himi self down, tired and weary. I Next day the foe he had defeated rej turned to the attack. Sore, sore was the I struggle, that intense longing. No one w-V j has not experienced it can understand i for a moment what it means'. Its power, unless withstood by some exceptional impulse, sweeps every consideration of, prudence before *it. {ioshingly it came, down upon poor Jimmie. . It flooded his, whole soul, and swamped every good resolve. He had just. stepped humeciv , from his hut with eager, shaking hands and almost panting breath to yield. A little, fair-haired angel, met him on tie threshold—wee Tommy Robertson. The child was crying, having fallen, and hurt his brow, that was slightly bleeding. Jimmie took it up and

carried it home. Little one, you have saved him once more. During the night the desire for drink came on again, but the battle was not bo severe. The weapons of the tempter were losing ttteir keen edge. Next day, and on the morning ©J the sale, he could hardly xefraia from oonvrounicating his intention to Mr Robertson. Somewhat diffident, and half-afraid his help might be refused, he kept putting off until everything was ready. The cattle and sheep had been gathered into the yards. Tie red flag hoisted, the bell rung, and buyers from far and near, on all sorts of hacks, and in every kind of vehicle, were assembled. Mr Robertson, in a kind of moody determination, forced himself to help in any way lie could. Mrs Robertson was very little seen. The keen feeling of sympathy felt by all hushe<l many of those sounds that savour of mirth, that are usually heard at such gatherings. The auctioneer commenced bis work by an expression of regret at the misfortune that had fallen upon 60 worthy a> man as Mr Robertson. Hhe duty thai he had to do that day was the most unpleasont that fell to his lot. 'However, business was business, and these things had to be done. He , read his authority and instructions, and intimated the claim to b© met was £426, made up of arrears, bill of sale, and , expenses. "This money has not been paid, and I will now read the conditions of sale. The highest " 1 "Stop a minute, Mr Williams; how much I will clear Mr Robertson?"

The auctioneer glanced in the direction of the speaker, and judging "Jimmie the Rae ,, by his appearance, continued—"The highest "bidder———" "Did you no hear me?' , continued Jimmne, who was now- the object of all observation. "All right, old man, bus don't interrupt," . said the auctioneer, evidently thinking him some harmless lunatic - "The highest bidder shall be—— ,, "This thing maunna gang ony farther," came in determined tones from Jimmy. Mr Williams turned to his clerk, with a half inclination to have Jimmie turned out." ': " • ■.'.■'. ' " ■■' ■■ ■ .V' , . ■' ■■'.-•■. ■: ■ •

The grave, if surprised looks of the peoEle standing round him, however, caused im to hesitate.

"I wont to;know the exact amount that will free Mr Robertson fra* a' claims in this business," again urged Jimmie. "Well, I have just told you, £426, and there will be certain other expenses connected with, my coming here." "If I or onybody else were to pay you £436 on the part of Mr Robertson, would that dear hdm the no©', and stop this thing?" "Yes."

"Well, then, ye'U just ask that lad to draw oot a bat of receipt, and I'll gie ye the money." Amazement stood on the face of everyone, but more especially on that of Mr Robertson, who could hardly believe his ears. There was no doubt about the matter. Jimmie there and then produced hia little bag, and counted out the money in good bank notes. Having got his receipt he turned to Mr Robertson, and placed it in his hands. . , , "Take that, friend, as a Christmas present frae one who owes his life to the kindness ,0' you and yours." Mr Robertson was so dazed and filled with emotion that he could not utter a word. He passed into the other room, where his wife was. Jimmae was out of the place almost as soon. Then arose the sounds of high good humour, and all seemed eager to set off home with the good. news. Talk of Christmas happiness, that was a happy time in our district. Many a heart overflowed Qβ we sang on Christmas Eve that good old carol: — "Wherefore Christian men rejoice Wealth, or rank possessing, Yβ who now will bless the poor, Shall yourselves find blessing. '•