if there should ever be a second coming of the Lord or He should send
another Son to His people He couldn't pick out a better place than
this. Suppose it was to be another birth. I callate this land has just
as good a chance as Palestine and hereabouts is as fittin' a place as
Bethlehem. Look out there at the snow! Makes you think o' a baby's
blankets, it's so white and clean and pretty. Our nights man't have
stars as brilliant as that one greater star of the first Christmas
mornin', but I don't believe they have flyin' lights[5] like 'ourn. I
hev noticed that the Lord tries to be as impartial as He can and since
He sent His Son to the East last time, if ever He should send again why
I think He'd be likely to send Him somewhere hereabouts. You remember
the Son liked fishin' an' He'd be delighted with Newfoundland."
The door opened and Bob McCartney walked in.
"What's the matter, Bob; what you got your good behavior[6] on fur?"
asked Jim as his friend entered.
"Ain't the occasion worth it? You sed yourself that it was to be the
biggest Christmas the Landers ever hed; and I'd like to know if we
aren't in a way celebratin' now while we're gettin' ready."
"Who's coming to this Christmas, Jim?" I asked, taking my turn at a
question.
"Well, everybody in this town, quite a mess o' folk from St. John's
and Quidi Vidi. Some from Brigus, Kelligrews and Heart's Ease. Aunt
Saray Bailey is a' comin' from Nancy Jobble.[7] It's such a general
invitation that they ain't no definite countin' no how, but their
comin'. Everybody that meets anybody hereabouts and nowadays jes' says
are you a' comin' to Jim's fur Christmas."
Gradually by prying questions I found out what Jim was planning to do.
He had been extremely interested in the account I had sent him of the
illuminated tree in Madison Square, and had resolved to have the trees
on a neighboring hill-top all illuminated where they stood. In place of
electric lights he was engaged in making tallow candles by hand.
The day before Christmas, Mrs. Jim was up very early and when I came
down to breakfast she greeted me with this:
"Got to make a biler full o' tea this morning fur the Decoratin'
Committee will be here shortly."
"Yes," added Jim, "they'll be here shortly and then we'll be a carryin'
out Christmas. Up your way they fetch it _in_, but we're a goin' to
carry it out, good and proper, this year."
The first arrival was Bob, who had caught the full contagion of Jim's
spirit, and the second was Parson Curtis.
"Hello, Pa'son Curtis," said Jim as he ushered in his guest. "Did you
come to look on or to work?"
"Put me in among the workers, Jim," replied the parson.
"That's right, Pa'son," Jim spoke with heartiness. "I like a pa'son
that ain't a mite afraid o' work. I callate that our Lord was one o'
the greatest workers this world ever seed, and it's a good thing fur
those who are a takin' His place to be up in the front row o' workers.
Here's a bag o' candles and here's a coil o' wire. You can take 'em up
the hill and begin hitchin' 'em to the tallest tree. You can begin on
the low branches an' when the younger fellows get here we'll let 'em
shinney up to the taller branches."
By eight o'clock, fifty men and boys were at work, many of them
bringing their own donation of candles, and each time that Jim saw more
candles coming he beamed, for it meant more trees could be included in
the scheme.
With banter, jest and story the work of attaching the candles went
on thru the morning and at noon we went back to Jim's for dinner. We
all knew what to expect and we were not disappointed, when with keen
appetites, we crowded the little house and waited our turn for a hot
plate of brewse. It's Newfoundland's distinctive dish and salt fish and
pork never tasted better than that noon after our climbing up in the
trees.
Walking back to finish our work in the afternoon I said to Jim:
"It strikes me it is a little unfortunate that the hill we are
decorating has no tall spruce on top. The trees are well arranged on
the slopes but the top of the hill itself hasn't a tree on it!"
"That's what pleases me about it. That's why I selected it, because it
leaves room for the Candles of the Lord," answered Jim. "There on the
top is where the Light o' the World will shine out tonight. When we get
the rest of the work done we'll place it."
An hour later Jim came dragging a sled with a huge candle, four feet
high, at least, and it was carefully erected in the centre of the open
place on the hill. At three o'clock the work was finished and Jim
addressed the workers:
"Thank you all. We'll knock off for a spell. Those that lives near can
go home. Those that lives too far will find plenty at my house. Be back
every one of you an hour before sunset. The sun won't wait for any o'
ye and if you don't get here the lightin' will go on jes' the same, but
I wants you all to be here, sure."
They began to arrive before the appointed time, but I waited within
until it began to grow dark, then I stepped to the door and watched the
multitude coming up from the valley. I remember once I went out with
the crowds and climbed Mt. Rubidoux in California on an Easter morning.
A little in advance of the larger contingent I stood and watched them
coming up out of the darkness of the roads below into the growing light
of the mountain top and the new day. I thought of that experience again
as I watched them coming along the road to climb the hill and keep
Christmas Eve with Jim. Only in this instance the picture was reversed
and I saw them coming out of the light into the gathering darkness of
the night.
There were many from St. John's who had come out for the lark of it.
Men that worked along Water St. and Dock St. Girls from the stores came
in little groups full of tickles and nudging one another as things
happened to meet their fancy. Women in black were in the crowd who had
been before along a sorrowful way and turned to make this journey that
they might find light. Some of them plainly showed by their demeanor
that they were conscious of the fact that Christ was the best part of
Christmas.
Boys were in the throng, many of them swaggering along with sticks,
copying the manner of English soldiers who feel their importance when
on furlough. Little girls tripped along, some of them singing a little
Christmas song that begins
"I saw three ships come sailing in,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day."
The chatter of the many voices did not altogether drown their childish
voices and they rose like bird notes above the rushing winds of a
forest.
It was slippery walking and now and then some one would fall, but a
hand would be reached out to them and they would again go on with a
laugh. Everywhere was the glitter. That is what the Newfoundlanders
call the spectacle of a snow and icegirt earth. During the day many of
our hands had been nearly frozen because of the ice on the trees and
they were festooned and sheathed with ice where their branches were a
little out of the wind and it had not stripped them of snow during the
recent storm. It was a white, shining world, softened by a waning light.
Now the fellows who had been appointed had been at work some time with
torches and as we looked up tree after tree put on a garland of jewels
and stood forth resplendent for the feast. Parson Curtis had lit the
first torch from the Candle of the Lord, as Jim called the big candle
on the hill-top, and each torch had been lit from his.
Murmurs ran thru the crowd as the scene grew more beautiful with the
lighting of more trees and the deepening of the night shadows. It was
now quite dusky, but the snow kept the light so that we could see the
workers finishing the lighting.
When all was ready, standing beside the Candle of the Lord, Jim spoke:
"Brothers in Christ, we all are that tonight. I am glad you have come
to celebrate the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ. Pa'son Curtis will
lead us in prayer."
Jim knelt in the snow and the great company followed his example. The
prayer was short and Jim was ready to announce the singing of the first
of the Christmas hymns, when some one I didn't know made his way thru
the crowd, and waiving all formalities, touched Jim on the arm and
spoke hurriedly:
"Rascal Moore's took sick. He's got a ketch in his glutch[8] and the
Missus wants you to come over right now to sit up with him. She can't
manage him no how and she's sent for you."
I was standing beside Jim, watching now his face and now the lights.
I looked squarely at him now and thought of the weeks of preparation
that he had gone thru and how like some rare flower that blossoms only
in the night it had unfolded petal by petal before his delighted eyes.
I thought, too, of Rascal Moore, who had so long been living up to his
name. It seemed unfair indeed to ask him to go now on this Christmas
Eve that he had planned for and was making so successful. Let any one
else go if they would, but surely not Jim.
"Tell 'em I'm on my way," was all he said to the messenger, and he
moved along as he spoke.
Turning to me he said, what made me feel that he was still human, and
without these words I think I must have doubted it. "It would have been
a little easier if it had a' been Bob instead of Rascal."
The program began, though Jim was leaving and had turned his back on it
all. Will Cunningham, whose tenor voice often led in the little church,
started the Christmas hymn "Holy Night, Peaceful Night," and the crowd
sang. The female voices seemed in preponderance and I fancied the
men all thru the crowd were doing what the few around me were doing,
heaping choice epithets upon Rascal Moore.
Jim was yet to see more of his Christmas trees. He may have forgotten
it, but his friends remembered that Rascal Moore's place was just about
at the foot of the hill and some one started taking off the candles
from the trees that were a little beyond and decorating those that were
in the direct line toward the Moore house. There were so many hundreds
the work was speedily performed. The candles were re-lit and by seven
o'clock there was a row of lighted trees extending straight down the
hill to the Moore house and at the top of the hill the big candle could
now be distinctly seen against the black back-ground of the night.
It may be the angels are a little nearer on Christmas Eve and they
decided to add to the wonderful beauty of that night for which Jim
had worked and prayed. For now the northern lights came, adding great
plumes of light, flashing across the sky in a glory burst of light.
"It's the dead men playing. Come to earth, they have, for Christmas
Eve," explained Bob.
When all was ready some one knocked at the Moore door and brought Jim
to the porch and he stood bare-headed looking up the wonderful avenue
of light to the top of the hill. Then he lifted his eyes from the earth
lights and the black crowd to the sky.
"The heavens declare the glory of God," Jim spoke quietly, but many
could hear his words. "Mebbe little Peter is here tonight playing in
the heavens and joinin' us in our songs. The Lord of Joy has come
again!"
"What did you leave us for, Jim?" some one in the crowd shouted.
The hundreds stood waiting for Jim's answer. It was a hush of
expectancy, such as fitted that holy night.
Jim answered slowly, measuring his words:
"I heard my Father calling and I went to answer Him!"
[5] Northern Lights.
[6] A silk hat.
[7] Lance du Diable.
[8] A sore throat.
IX
HONEY-MOONING ON THE FLAKES
Jim lapsed into silence and his wife, laying down her mending, poked
the fire and soon had tea brewing. The Landers are tea drinkers like
the English.
"It's a beautiful story, sir, and we often live it over again," Mrs.
Jim said as she poured the tea. I noted the flow-blue china and,
answering my query, she said:
"It was my grandfather's. He brought it from England sixty years ago.
Of course we're awful careful of it, but we use it, for Jim says the
only way to have plenty is to use what you have. We always keep a pot
handy and there's always a ready chair, for many a time a neighbor
drops in and we wouldn't want to let them go on without a cup o'
tea,--a cup o' kindness, Jim calls it."
"Now, I've read books," continued Jim, "and they always end just where
they really should begin. When in the book story they decide to get
married, then they stop short. If I should ever write a story, which I
ain't likely to do, with my little learnin', I'd not stop there, but
I'd let that end only the first chapter and I'd let the story go on
with its joy and sorrow and its hope and its fear and the problems big
and little; the blessings so rare that follow along even as they do in
real life.
"If I'm not tiring you, I'd be glad to give you another half chapter
afore we all quit and turn in for the night."
Jim put down his empty tea cup with a smack of appreciation at his
wife's proper brewing and deliberately cut off a fresh slice of tobacco
and crushed it into the bowl of his pipe, and I knew that for at least
a half hour, the story would go on, the story that was so real to him
and now so fascinating to me.
"Bein' both of us very sure, and the Lord havin' given the sign o' His
good pleasure, there beyond Brigus, we didn't wait long afore we were
hitched up.
"We begun right here in this house and we started right in here the
first night and we went to work on the flakes the next morning. We
didn't go off no where's for a honey-mooning.
"I reckon there's no place a real woman would rather go at that time
than to the new home where her life is agoin' to be lived, and that
vacationing then ain't best for either. In any case we never thought a
travelling, for you see the cod was running well and 'twas the height
of the season and we had to fill the flakes, while we could.
"A man and a woman who gets married has to get acquainted and adjusted
one to the other and there's no better place for learnin' to conform
than right where they are agoin' to live and raise their children.
"Course a couple can just pretend for a spell there ain't any work
to be done, but there is, and I reckon the sooner they face it, the
better for all concerned. If you're agoin' to cut bait, there's no use
standin' round dreadin' it.
"When I was a boy we used to have in our house a religious book with
pictures of saints in it and every blessed one on' 'em had a ring
around their head, halos, I think they call 'em; now I callate that a
home ought to have some kind of a halo over it and it's easier to get
it fastened on just right when your startin' married life and if you
don't get it on then, like's not you'll never have a real home but just
a house for feeding and sleeping.
"We got the halo fixed on, eh, Effie," and the fisherman's eyes
confirmed his words.
"So, next morning we put on our fishin' clothes and went out on the
flakes. We'd clean fish for a spell and then we'd split and spread
for a spell. Now I know from the standin' point o' city folks fishin'
clothes ain't very scrumptious to look at and they are kinder soused
with smell, but our clothes didn't interfere none with our honeymoon.
"Her dress was kinder faded blue, but I always liked blue. It's
heaven's color and often the sea borrows it, and that morning it made
her cheeks more wonderful pink than I'd seen 'em before.
"There was a kind of down-right, deep-seated satisfaction to both of us
in feeling we was at work; both of us a doin' what needed to be done
and a sharin' of the burdens or the joys which ever you wants to call
'em. For I have found that some folks get their joys and burdens mixed
up and don't seem to know one from 'tother till it's too late and they
wake up with a start when they can't change 'em.
"Sharin', I said, and that's a word we set out to understand when we
commenced an' with us it's always been a big word ever since.
"After breakfast that first morning we went to the flakes, I took
out my wallet and said to her: 'There's no sense of my carryin' this
round when you are more likely to need it than I. I'll leave it here
behind the clock and when you need money, it's yours and bein' yours
you don't have to give any account of it 'cept to your own conscience.
More properly speakin' it's 'ourn, for now we're married there ain't no
longer yourn or mine, but 'ourn.'
"I callate that if a man can trust a woman to bring up his children,
trust her with his house and his reputation and his disposition, he
ain't no cause to fear to trust her with his wallet.
"Bob McCartney always says a woman ought to have an allowance, but I
tell him too much book-keeping is bad for a married couple and then
how's a man able to judge the amount of an allowance anyhow. I guess
most women earn more'n an allowance, and a sharin' always seems bigger
than an allowance.
"I've heared folks liked honey-moons 'cause they got away from pryin'
eyes, but I want you to know that our honeymoon want never once
interrupted. The neighbors see we had work to do and they had theirs
and we both of us did it. The children of the neighbors was often round
with us then, but they made us think of 'ourn that was to come, in the
favor of the Lord. And if when I helped her along from plank to plank,
I held her hand a little longer than absolutely necessary, who was to
care.
"There's been no decided change in the years; we've been honey-mooning
along just about the same. Course with the children she had more to do
in doors, but she's always managed, if there was an extra run o' fish
to come to the flakes and help me over the rush; and if one o' the kids
was sick or anything extra come, why I've always toted the load for
her."
During the last few sentences Jim was watching the clock intently and
as he spoke the last sentence, he crossed the little room and began
winding the clock. I looked up and there, sticking out from behind the
clock, was a worn, brown wallet. Evidently he was still living up to
his habit of sharing.
"It's time all decent folks was in bed," he said. "We done want to ape
the city folks."
So bidding them good night I went out into the night. The rain had
ceased and there were fast hurrying clouds breaking up and I could see
the moon high over the spruces. I felt my way along the road back to
St. John's.
X
JIM AND HIS BOOK
"They that seek the Lord understand _all_ things." Jim spoke with his
usual deliberation. Again, I had found my way to the little house,
where now I felt welcome. It was "lightin' an' readin'" time as Jim
called it.
"They that seek the Lord, understand _all_ things," repeated Jim. I'm
finding it true more and more. It is true that the Lord giveth to a man
what is good in His sight, wisdom and knowledge and joy.
"We began sharin' the book, just as we began sharin' the wallet. I
callated that since the Lord by wisdom founded the earth we'd have to
found our earth home the same way.
"I'm not educated with figgering knowledge. I never got much school
wisdom, for I never went much, and what I did get was mostly from the
fellow that set on the bench with me instead of from the teacher. The
teacher was so busy with fifty odd pupils, varying from four to twenty
years in age, that he didn't have much time for any one. He had to skip
from the multiplication table to algebra and often he skipped some of
the pupils, and I was apt to be the one he overlooked.
"I know my limitations. A city chap told me about them once and I
thanked him." Jim chuckled at the remembrance.
"'Look ahere,' the city chap said to me, 'do you know you've lost
all the G's out of your vocabulary. Your words don't look nor sound
natural. You better start in putting them on. And there is no such word
as ain't. Remember that or you can't talk in polite society.'
"I presume he knew, for he talked as though he was on good terms with a
dictionary; and when he went fishing and caught the hook in his hand he
said words that weren't in the dictionary, and that came near breaking
the first commandment. I've got some of those G's put back on, but not
all. Two things is helping me on the job, the reading of the Good Book
and the children.
"Book learnin's a fine thing. I'm stumblin' along thru a book or two
myself, but I callate the prophets didn't refer to book knowledge when
they wrote of wisdom, but rather heart and soul wisdom. The promise
I recollect was this: 'For wisdom shall enter into thine _heart_ and
knowledge shall be pleasant unto thy _soul_.'
Then he reached for his Bible, but before he opened it he said:
"This is the most valuable thing in this house. I've been in houses in
St. John's fussed up with furniture and things, so many you felt you
would disturb 'em by setting down, but this book wasn't no where to be
seen and once I asked a woman to let me look at the Book, and she said
she'd have to keep me waitin' till she found it, but she was quite sure
she had it. Guess its wisdom never got very far into her soul.
"It's a satisfyin' book. Readin' of it is like quenching your thirst at
a hill spring. In the days afore I was converted as a young fellow with
the rest, I used to sail over to the French Island of St. Pierre and
smuggle in a few gallons of rum. But it never quenched my thirst. It
would leave me afterward, all-fired thirsty. But open this book and you
find fountains of cool water.
"I've tried in the years to halt at the springs as Moses and his people
did when they crossed the desert and come to a spring. There's many a
river of the water o' life flowing sweet and fair as we journey thru
the good book, but to me the promises are the springs and wife and I
have lingered longest at the springs. We've marked them and there's a
good many of them and we haven't found them all yet. She has helped me
mark 'em. A fisherman's hands get a bit calloused and clumpsy and she
does most of the markin', but I do my share of the discoverin'. It's
always a happy night, when we find a new spring and rejoice in a new
promise, but it's a glad night when we quench our thirst at any one
of the never-failing springs. Their all of 'em fresh an' sparklin';
there's nary a one of His that are salt or bitter.
"Effie keeps a pencil handy there with her sewing things and when I
find a new promise, I hand over the book to her and she underlines it.
Then the favorite springs we mark in the margin, so we'll find 'em easy
as we journey."
He opened the book, _his_ book it was in more ways than one. It was
very much worn; its leaves were thumbed and now and then as he turned
the pages a fish scale dropped out.
"Here are the Great Mountain Springs. The Master indicated them with
a big, Blessed, so we wouldn't miss them, perhaps the clearest one
is this, Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God, but
they've all got sparkling water; their all promises that quench the
soul's thirst.
"You will find some of these same markers in the Old Testament, though
few folks seem to search there for the Blesseds. Here are some of the
springs that are marked for our use.
"'Blessed are they that wait for Him!'
"'Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.'
"'Blessed is the man whom thou choosest and causest to approach unto
Thee, that he may dwell in Thy courts: we shall be satisfied with the
goodness of Thy house, even of Thy holy temple.'
"'Blessed is he that considereth the poor.'
"'Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee, in whose heart are the
highways to Zion.'
"Let me turn the pages slowly and when I come to a favorite spring
we'll halt a moment," commented Jim as he continues his reading.
"'He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy
ways.'
"It won't hurt you a mite, if you hev to wait awhile atween the verses.
Most parsons read the Bible too fast. They go scurryin' thru the
readin' like as though a shower was comin' an' they had to get in out
of it post haste."
"'Fear not; I am with thee; be not discouraged; for I am thy God; I
will strengthen thee, yes, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee
with the right hand of my righteousness.'
"'With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.'
"That there first part has puzzled me somewhat, for I've known many
a one to die young. My folks used to say the good died young, cause
the Lord had need of 'em over there. Struck me as kinder queer. But I
reckon He meant here just what He said, as He does elsewhere. It's His
intention to have long life and goodness go together, only some of us
interferes with His plan, but He lets us interfere 'cause it's best and
will work out His way in the end."
"'He shall call upon me and I will answer him. I will be with him in
trouble. I will deliver him and honor him.'
"'Behold I will bring thee health and a cure.'
"'The Lord shall be thine _everlasting light_, and the days of thy
mourning shall be ended.'
"'There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh
thy dwelling.'
"Did you think," said Jim, interrupting his reading, "that there were
so many bright, clear springs for the traveller?"
Then, without waiting for any answer, he continued slowly turning the
pages, reading me from his marked places.
"'Delight thyself in the Lord and _He_ shall give thee the desires of
thy heart.'
"'The joy of the Lord shall be your strength.'
"'He that endureth to the end shall be saved.'
"There are signs put up, too, not only to mark springs but to inform
us," interpolated Jim.