"Copyright." OLD STOVEPIPE.

Lake County Press, Issue 2138, 4 October 1906, Page 2

"Copyright." OLD STOVEPIPE.

BY LUCY SEILMES ORRICK. The town of Smealton seemed alive with carriages. They rushed busily back and forth in one unending stream. The onlooking stranger having satisfied himself as to the wherefore of this unusual stir, fell lazily to wondering at the number of vehicles available in so small a place oven for such an occasion as the one now in progress, for the little old college town celebrated tonight her annual and much anticipated festivity—the college commencement bull.

Hut after due observation by the spectator it developed that the imposing procession of carriages was merely a matter of appearances founded upon the only four or five traps owned by the town stable, and manipulated to apparent multiplication by that skilful old whip and natural-born organizer, commonly known as old Stovepipe. One of the few white cabmen in the town, and the prince of his class, this man reigned without a question ; his carriage represented his principality and the other cabmen his subjects. Urging his animals briskly through the fragrant night air, be transported cluster and cluster of gaily-bedecked guests to the dignified portals of the old university. He was in his element, and they said at the hotel he did as much towards sustaining the reputation of the balls ns the juniors and seniors did themselves.

on i lii's, occasions I lio i-.wellest roll,-,- club colors decorated his whip handle :in«l cockndcd the heads of his spirited horses, and a still' white shin with other details of toilet, noticeable for their rarity, invariably adorned his attenuated person. This fluttering recognition of the hour, the battered beaver which gave Stowpipe his name, and his impeachable manner, had long since established themselves as permanent features of these annual festivities. It was quite the thing to secure the old driver and equipage for the anniversary ball. He was as good as a eoat-of-amis. Mis unusual college spirit met with due appreciation as well as wonder from the graverminded students as a quality not exactly fathomable in a person of his position, but for all that, lending the greater interest to his personality. True he "spreed " deplorably during the year, in fact, most of the year, but then he was always to be relied on for the closing of the summer term. And the boys, even while they suffered the bondage of secret obligations to him. felt a pride in the man there was no denying. Some of the young rascals knew only too well they had been saved from disgraceful expulsion on a too festive night out by the safe collegeward conveyance, of old Stovepipe, and the driver's cynical, givc-nic-no-crcdit-for-it and 1 want' none-nf-your money sort of way, while it repulsed them, commanded at the same time their unquestionable allegiance. At his post to-night, the favourite cabman was surrounded as usual by that indefinite something, or combination of somethings, courtesy, reserve: and caustic wit. which no amount of liquor could wholly efface. The rush of custom having subsided old Stovepipe stopped a minute opposite the hole] io light a cigar which had been accepted but a moment before, with courtly grace.

' I li. t here, you dm er ! " shouted mi important mid impatient rollegian from I hi* inn steps. "Jlovo up t here ; we are in ;i hurry 11,. did not know whom he addressed and was irritated at the delay. A driver was a driver under any circircumstances.

The man on the box started a little; init what business had his thoughts to wander? And with a turn of the reins he swung IPs horses into an elaborate curve to the very edge of the badly lighted sidewalk. It. was wonderful how nimbly the old man found his way to the ground. and opened the door for the lady and two men await ing him. '•Well, well, Hob ! This reminds nie of old times," remarked the old man to his son as he sank bark in the carriage. '"What times we used to have ! We were merry young blades, and our jollifications were something worth the trouble, I tell you," mused the well-kept sire to his youngest born. ''l wonder what became of my chum, Duncan Hristow," he went on, reniiniseently.

old Stovepipe. touched up the horses with such an unexpected lash and curbing tha-t the carriage occupants were jolted t'o discomfort not to tuent ion annoyance.

"Tn continue." went on .Judge I'olk. .liter resettling himself, "that fellow was a horn leader, lie kinged it ill the rostrum and in the ballroom, on the campus, everywhere. His last speech excited the college almost to frenzy, and the boys picked him up and bore him out in triumph on their shoulders. He was the most brilliant fellow I ever met. Well, as I was saying, what swells we were among the young ladies ! I spent two weeks with Hristow at his river home one vocation ami he lived like a monarch. Ho was wild about a beautiful girl visiting his people. I've seen him white with jealousy at another man's attentions to her. Then the North and the South grappled and we two drifted apart. Strange i < say," he concluded amusedly, "the young lady preferred me." "I don't blame mother a bit." whispered the girl at the .Judge's side, win had heard pari of the story before. "What liei-atue of Mr. Hristow, father?" asked young Hob. "Hurry up there, driver : it's no short ride to the University," he interjected. "He won a major's rank for bravery, and came back. 1 heard, to line) the ashes ol his childhaod home ;ts a legacy. I always felt it was hard on him to lose his sweetheart at the same time, but then she loved me, and he stayed away so long I've quest iotied whether he was faithful. Alter that he sank out of life, as so mam others did when the war was over." T'hi- carriage wheeled up sharply to the college entrance. The coachman opened the door with the usual olreisancc. but his face was hidden by his hat and the shadow, the latter of which he seemed to seek. "Why, it's Old Stovepipe!" exclaimed Hob, .Jr., who had ridden with his back ti the coachman. "He is one of our celebrities, father. Vou'vc often heard me speak of him." Old Stovepipe bowed, rigidly it seemed, but he sedulously kept his face in the dark . none of t he customary apt ret 01 It met llie introduction, and though youim It, b uh-

| derwent a twinge of regret that the puppet failed to work still in the I arrogant self-sufficiency of youth ho felt gratified that the elegance of his party had heen duly recognised jby the old driver's deferential silence. ~ "Be bark ft rus on tune, called the boy over his shoulder, as he mounted the steps. "All right," was the smothered resiion.se, in which the "sir, ' if there was one, was lost, and Stovepipe sprang' again to his sent. Happy-looking young people danced past the windows, or sauntered round the galh-ries only a foot or so *tway. Students with sweet girls like' gauze-winged butterflies in the floating muslins of the South, were only conscious of them, and the aluring beauty of the hour. Things of another sphere were the weary cabmen ; no one noticed them, and no one dreamed of the burning memories by .Judge Polk's careless words stirred in the breast of the college cabman. The music, swayed and drifted out iii the summer darkness, rousing long-stilled pangs. Many years ago he had been host for all this; his j word was law then—now .they would ! put him out did he but venture inside, thought the driver bitterly. I The past stood out in sudden cruel j arraignment. To what had he fallen ?

"1 didn't think anything could so wring me after all these years," muttered Old Stovepipe painfully, as his head sank lower on his breast. His mental forces settled in sore contemplation on the wreck of bis life. To what a dreary mould of ashes the once blazing glory and autocracy of his opulent young prognose had faded ; but memory did not stop there. Pushing on through the sequence it drew out many things among them, and sweetest of all, that exaltation and delight of loveoffering, on the rich, green river where oleanders nodded in languid indolence. How sharply the details came to the front ! Then the fair, proud fare of his sweetheart bloomed up like a flower to his withered heart. It was all in the noble presence of stature of youth that the man received it, and his old cheek fired with the warmth of reality. But this softness was only for a moment.

Successive years swept, by to the connecting link, thr< hour of desolation confronting him on his return from the war. It stood out clear and distinct as an etching on his heart. Home and family gone in id tor. awful silence, and the woman in whom he had given his soul, what, of her? Her for whom ho had fought those four years through hunger, sickness and agony—how did he find her ? The man on the bcx hugged his ribs convulsivelyf "A traitor to her promise, and the wife cf another," he muttered. That wa.s her fidelity.

The driver's heart quivered, and he grasped his arms tighter, suffering as did his boyself of years ago. Then, crushed, bewildered, penniless, what could he do, and whe cared ? He saw now what he had done in his sickening loneliness. Drank, drank, drank himself to the dogs. The beginning of his present occupation came back to the driver with sudden vividness.

"If it hadn't been cut so deep, I might never have been in this," protested ihe man in shame, seeing those weeks of drunken misery followed by a loosened demon of reekless defiance, delighting in its own self-inflicted pain. Beggary and renewed craving for drink gnawed him again, lie must have money; then a" tipsy driver who had served him many a time lumbered across his way. The suggestion was scarcely quicker than the execution. ]t was. eas,\ work to push aside the muddled sol and take his place ; no one would' know the difference. There was a kind of bitter devilry in the thing thai appealed to him. Duncan Hristow driving a cab !

Afterwards when he grew more and more sodden with drink, the daring fancy of the evening seemed the least troublesome way -to acquire what he needed, so he drifted into it, and hack to the old college, tewn of his youth. No one knew his name, and he never gave it .

"The old college seemed the only tie," he murmured in self-excuse. It was pleasant to cling to something, to give the best of what was left of liiin without a thought of return. Here he sniffed satirically at this weakness of his old ago, but for the sake of the old place he had helped back tf) self-respect and perhaps future to many a boy on the. downward path. "At least." thought Bristow, "no money ever soiled niy hands for'such small services:" then "I must, have been a poor sort of devil to have let myself go." he reflected with sclfrcntempt. The bosom of his shirt crackled, and put another thorn in his side.

"What a sham ! What foot-light buffoonery !" Yes, that was what the attempt looked like now. Duncan Bristow taking pride in a cabman's role ! Then he stopped. No—that was not the whole idea ; he had freshened himself with a sort, of shamed defiance and delusive pretence that he was resuming his old, elegant character, believing even then that he debased the garments that stood for his ether life- Tonight he cursed himself and his infirmity over and over again, but his thoughts always wandered appealingly to the girl he loved. "Oh. Paula, Paula !"- wrested itself in anguish from his breast, "how much I needed you !"

Yes, she had accepted all the devotion mihl high-souled trust, of his luiyhoofl days, had. promised to love and wait till the end. ran sadly through Bristow's mind, and along with this appeared in dim background the helpless wearisome time of liis own long imprisonment—the term that had worn Paula's patience tt a thread.

"Why not get a bottle, and stop all Ihese poignant stabs? 1 might as well," he said in a kind of fierce uncertainly. "Old now, old ! Why argue about it ? It is too late." The ball still continued, and Old Stovepipe drove si. wly out of line. "Too late for what V" he laughed miit hlessly. "Keally, what difference does it make whether I gel drunk to-night or no - . V" he questioned, half resenting the sudden squirm of conscience. "A single abstinence to me is no more than a drop from the ocean." Bui the hordes were almost walking now.

Shall 1 go to tile saloon or not'.'

He stopped at the angle of the streets. Suddenly the horses fell the silent language of the reins, and turning trolled rapidly hack to col lege.

His carriage was the ftrst one called, and old Stovepipe shook as ho opened the door tor Judge Polk's party. "What a fool i am. Why didn't I take the whisky ? I am nothing but a lackey, his lackey," he said, 'seeing (he, Jf.)rige. the.'whole of his past, the man who had defeated him. Judge "folk handed his daughter to w a seat, and turned to bid adieu some lingering friends, when without- 1 an instant's warning, a sharp crash ■■■ and deafening report rang out. directly behind them from a pistol dropped by some hoodlum driver ; a sudden rush of humanity followed ; a stampede of animals, and old Stovepipe's excitable animals jerked past the judge, free from eueumlKTiiig vehicles, and bolted blindly across ' I<<-high-terraced side of the college /. T grounds, straight for: the' encircling { . declivity which bounded- the University property. The reins became, tangled in the horses' feet, as they straggled and fought onward to their uncertain destination, pulling the carriage after them with great leaps, to the speechless horror ol the young girl who sat within. Among the confusion and alarmed cries of the spectators, and in an instant of time that seemed hours, a long form flashed after the vehicle, and old Stovepipe running. '.; dragging, had caught on to the harness, striving desperately for control.

The spectators palpitated in an agony of suspense. It meant death or maiming to the girl to plunge over the embankment at the heels ofthe struggling horses. Would the driver never stop them ? Even as the question Was asked the carriage sustained a violent setback from a small tree in the way of its hub, and with a well-timed effort old Stovepipe flung himself forward to the very bits en the animals' mouths. i Rearing and snorting the .horses lunged forward, dragging! the raaji with them, flinging him to . .the ground and rearing again. But ho held on obstinately. A third, time they reared in the air in one more break for freedom, and when (hey came down it was on the limbs and body of the gallant driver. There were plenty to help now, to relieve the conquering hands. Some one lifted out the half-fainting girl and others drew forth a limp form with a horseshoe print on his white" shirt-

front; >■■■■ >■ t J "I believe they've killed old Stove- •«.- pipe," someone said in awed and an- '■'' ' xious tones, as the yellow light from a neighbouring lamppost, flickered down on the white face, and he. wiped the blood.from the old. man's lips "Go to him, father," urged the. re cued girl, weakly, as she clung to her,. ... brother for support. ' t When old Stovepipe opened his ;- eyes and glanced around vaguely, his') ■'., gaze settled'on the face' of the .fudge ' who supported him against his knee. Someone pushed in a physician, but it-was useless. The.old driver's time \- was up. They could all sec that for themselves. The Judge wasted.no words in generalities. A small thing,;' ;; like thanks seemed petty beside this . great-dignity of: man, and-he Jet it ..■'• pass in the gravity of, the mon/ient- '„ "Is there any inessage S;ou.. would like to send your people?" asked the , . g Judge gently, at the same time wondering uneasily at .the. far-away; re-J ... .."_, collections set-, in motion by,. thy: •', searching eyes be low-him,. -■ "My people?".- murmured the .man. abstractedly. Then it. returned to the minds of the surrounding throng that ;knew.\ old-' S.U henj'pgj's :: v* people, not even the name, of the cabman himself. A whisper of this seemed . tD.,r.eacli . Jhe prosttato.mnn as well as the- Judge., ..-• : .-- .. ■ ::• • •' "Your name?" faltered the querist almost unconscious of utterance. '..-•. ;!" ■ "Duncan Bristow," fell so faiiit • •' that the Judge .could hardly hear. . . "My God !" exclaimed the listener,; . in a suppressed whisper of .sudden re- ~' spect and caution. It was true, vis- • iblc through the seams and brpjjsw ...-; of years. ]n another moment memcry would have divulged the secret •." ... : "Glad I didn't take the drink.", wandered disconnectedly through Bristow's mind. Then* the result of his denial seemed to force str-.vie'' hj for utterance. "Paula's daughter safe I" flo-it.-d up dreamily to the Judge's ear. It struck like a blow on the heart, clearing the mists of years in an instant. Then stillness sunk over Bristow's paling face. "I have, indeed, taken his love, and my daughter has taken his life." humbly granted the Judge, and turn.ing to the people he said, softly : - "lie is dead; Take him to the hotel I will attend to the rest." . '. And they bore him silently away. < The boys felt a pang of regrvt that their college- driver must, .forego, college funeral honours, so well do-, served, but-they withdrew before live e".: v later obligation of the J.udgie;. and one plainly so much deeper than their own—that of a daughter savedto life —so the sensitive spirit of their olfl supporter -was -saved much'* mistaken pageantry. In the hours when the tired youngdancers still slept, the Judge mo\ fcedout on an early morning train with his silent companion. The objective... point Was the some as many years ago : but the way. was quicker, nnt.l . when shadows lengthened; out across the open spaces. tl-?. long absent master was laid among his kinsmenon the old plantation ho/:-.c that had known his lavish youth. There in the now green and riotous wilderness among the silent fraternity, stii! "'* sacred from vandal hands, he rests . in peace, his secret, safely locked in* the breast, of his old-time friend,'Bn- '"* bert Folk, for no other knows that old Stovepipe, -the college cabman, was one and the same with Duncan Bristow, the lordly young planter of other days,, now back at last to his own. (1015 )