OLD HUMPHREY'S STRANGE STORY.
IN his usual serene manner--for he very rarely became excited,
notwithstanding that his conduct and his absentmindedness had surprised
old Humphrey--Mr. Franklin made his way again to the bookstore in the
alley.
Old Humphrey welcomed him with--
"Well, I am glad to see you again, my American patron. Did you find the
volume interesting?"
"Yes, Father Humphrey, that was an interesting book, and there were some
very curious comments in it. The notes on the Conventicles and the
Toleration Act greatly interested me. The man who was the compiler of
that book of pamphlets seems to have been a poet, and to have had
relatives who were advocates of justice. I was struck by many wise
comments that I found in it written in a peculiar hand. Father Humphrey,
who do you suppose made those notes? Where did you find those pamphlets?
How did they come to you?"
"Well, that would be hard to say. Those volumes of pamphlets have been
in the store many years, and I have often tried to find a purchaser for
them. They must have come down from the times of the Restoration. I
wouldn't wonder if they were as old as Cromwell's day. There is much
about Banbury in them, and old Lord Halifax."
"Old Lord Halifax!" said Franklin in surprise, walking about with a
far-away look in his face again and his hands behind him. "I did not
find that name in the volume that I took home. I had an uncle who
received favors from old Lord Halifax."
"You did, hey? Where did he live?"
"In Ecton, or in Nottingham."
"Now, that is curious. It may be that he made the library of pamphlets."
"No, no; if he had, he would never have sold them. He was a well-to-do
man. But you have not answered my questions as to how the library of
pamphlets came to you."
"I can't. I found them here when I took charge of the store. My wife's
father, as I said, used to keep the store. He died suddenly in old age,
and left the store to my wife. He had made a better living than I out of
my business. So I took the store. I found the books here. I do not know
where my father-in-law obtained them. It was his business to buy rare
books, and then find a way to some antiquarian of means who might want
them. The owner's name was not left in these books. I have looked for it
many times. But there are names of Nottingham people there, and when old
Lord Halifax used to visit London I tried to interest him in them, but
he did not care to buy them."
"Father Humphrey, what was your wife's father's name?"
"His name was Axel, sir. He was a good man, sir. He attended the
conventicles, sir, and became a Brownite, sir, and----"
Was the American gentleman going daft again?
He stopped at the name of _Axel_, and lifted his brows. He turned
around, and bowed over with a look of intense interest.
"Did you say Axel, Father Humphrey?"
"Axel, your honor. Axel. I once heard him say that several of these
pamphlets were suppressed after the Restoration, and that they were rare
and valuable. I heard him say that they would be useful to a historian,
sir."
"I will pay you for the books, and you may hold them in trust for me.
They will be sent for some day, or it may be that I will call for them
myself. My uncle owned those books. It would have been the dearest thing
of his life could the old man have seen what has now happened. Father
Humphrey, one's heart's desires bring about strange things. They shape
events after a man is dead. It seems to me as though I had been directed
here. Father Humphrey, what do you think of such things?"
"Well, I don't know. From the time that I first saw you my mind was
turned to the pamphlets. I don't know why. Perhaps the owner's thought,
or desires, or prayers led me. It is all very strange."
"Yes, it is very strange," said Franklin, again walking to and fro with
his hands behind him. "I wish that all good men's works could be
fulfilled in this way."
"How do you know that they are not?"
"Let us hope that they are."
"This is all very strange."
"Very strange, very strange. It is the greatest of blessings in life to
have had good ancestors. Uncle Ben was a good old man. I owe much to
him, and now I seem to have met with him again--Uncle Benjamin, my
father's favorite brother, who used to carry me sailing and made the
boat a schoolroom for me in the harbor of Boston town."
He added to himself in an absent way: "Samuel Franklin and I have
promised to live so as to honor the character of this old man. I have a
great task before me, and I can not tell what the issue will be, but I
will hold these pamphlets and keep them until I can look into Samuel's
face and say, 'England has done justice to America, and your father's
influence has advanced the cause of human rights in the world.'"
Would that day ever come?
He went to Ecton, in Nottinghamshire, with his son, and there heard the
chimes in the steeple that had been placed there by Thomas Franklin's
influence. He visited the graves of his ancestors and the homes of many
poor people who bore the Franklin name. He found three letters that his
Uncle Benjamin had written home. He read in them the names of himself
and Jenny. How his heart must have turned home on that visit! A
biographer of Franklin tells his story in a beautiful simplicity that
leaves no call for fictitious enlargement. He says: "Franklin discovered
a cousin, a happy and venerable old maid; 'a good, clever woman,' he
wrote, 'but poor, though vastly contented with her situation, and very
cheerful'--a genuine Franklin, evidently. She gave him some of his Uncle
Benjamin's old letters to read, with their pious rhymings and acrostics,
in which occurred allusions to himself and his sister Jane when they
were children. Continuing their journey, father and son reached Ecton,
where so many successive Franklins had plied the blacksmith's hammer.
They found that the farm of thirty acres had been sold to strangers. The
old stone cottage of their ancestors was used for a school, but was
still called the Franklin House. Many relations and connections they
hunted up, most of them old and poor, but endowed with the inestimable
Franklinian gift of making the best of their lot. They copied
tombstones; they examined the parish register; they heard the chime of
bells play which Uncle Thomas had caused to be purchased for the quaint
old Ecton church seventy years before; and examined other evidences of
his worth and public spirit."