Returning home by way of Eastport, Mr. Sherwood took passage in a vessel
bound for Londonderry, a small seaport on the Bay of Fundy, and from there
he travelled by stage to Truro, where he took the train for Halifax.
While on the train an incident took place which, while affording amusement
for the passengers, led to after-results that were quite surprising to the
Sherwoods.
It seems that a countryman, hailing from Prince Edward Island, had
accompanied the vessel in which he had shipped the surplus oats and
potatoes that had grown on his farm, and the vessel had arrived in Halifax
a few days previously. This being his first trip "abroad," he had
determined to see all the sights which the city of Halifax afforded while
he waited for the vessel to discharge her cargo and prepare for the return
trip to Charlottetown.
His innocent air soon attracted the attention of some sharpers, or
"confidence men," as they would have been termed in a later day, and
thinking he had met the "gentry for shure" in the well-dressed scamps that
were so friendly to him, the countryman willingly accompanied them to an
uptown resort, where he was treated to drugged liquor, and then robbed of
the tidy sum that the sale of his produce had brought him. Then, adding
insult to injury, they had taken him to the depot, and, placing a ticket
for Truro in his hatband, they put him on board the cars and left him to
his fate.
He was put off the train at Truro in a dazed condition, and passed the
night in some out-of-the-way corner of the freight house, where he slept
off the effect of the liquor.
His alarm and astonishment when he came to himself and found he was alone
and in a strange place, and with empty pockets, was both painful and
ludicrous to witness. His distress seemed all the greater in that he had
not the faintest idea where he was or how to get back to his vessel waiting
alongside the wharf in Halifax.
It took some time to make his story understood, but when it became known to
the men about the depot they gave him a good breakfast, and determined to
get him "dead-headed" to the city, as the farmer felt sure he could easily
find the thieves and recover his money if he once got back to Halifax. He
had never seen a train of cars in his life, being too drunk the night
before to know how he was travelling; so when the train steamed into the
depot next morning, after announcing its approach by ear-splitting shrieks,
he dropped out of sight behind a pile of boxes, thinking that some wild
creature was let loose upon the streets. Before he could collect his
scattered senses he was seized by strong hands and stowed away in a corner
of a freight car, where, upon bags of potatoes, he was told to "sit down
and keep out of sight." For the first few miles he literally obeyed the
injunction, for he shook and trembled with fright, and with every shriek of
the engine he ducked his head, thinking his very life was in danger; but as
time went by and he still found himself whole and uninjured, he took
courage, and sat up and looked about him as well as the dim and close car
would permit. By and by the motion of the car caused the door to slide open
a few inches, for, fortunately or unfortunately, the door had been left
unlocked, so he crawled cautiously forward and peered through the opening,
wondering greatly at the frightful speed of the "animal" that was drawing
them along, but he concluded that it was "michty encouragin'," for at the
pace they were going he would soon be within reach of the rascals who had
emptied his pockets.
Not content to let well enough alone, he disregarded the injunction given
him to "stay there," and when the train stopped for a few minutes at
Shubenacadie, a station on the line, he stepped out on the platform to have
a look about him; but not being quick or daring enough to step back on the
moving train, he came very near losing his ride.
Fortunately, one of the train hands who had befriended him at first, saw
him as the train moved along, and pulled him aboard the second-class car as
it passed them.
Having previously been stowed away among the freight, he had no idea of the
accommodation for travellers behind him, and the sight of so many people,
sitting quietly on the seats, filled him with awe.
But the good-natured brakeman now drew him inside the car, intending to
place his wandering friend back into his former quarters as soon as the
train stopped at the next station.
When the eyes of the countryman had taken in the scene, the thought
immediately suggested itself that this must be some sort of a meeting-house
or chapel that was travelling along.
He stood for a few minutes regarding the people before him; then turning a
solemn face to the brakeman asked, in a properly subdued voice, as became
the situation:
"Is there preachin' here the day?"
Not comprehending the meaning of this question, but thinking the countryman
meditated a religious attack on those who were present, the brakeman
replied:
"Not to-day; these are good Catholics."
"Ye dinna tell me!" and his eyes and mouth expanded in surprise. "An' are
they repeatin' their prayers?" he innocently asked.
"Oh, yes, everyone of them," was the reply.
"Then let me oot o' this!" he cried, reaching for the door. "It's to
Halifax I want to go, so open the door an' let me oot o' this."
"There! sit down and be quiet, or you'll get put out fast enough," replied
the brakeman, giving the man a shove into the seat. "You sit still where
you are, mind, or you'll get into trouble," he added, as he turned to
attend to his duties outside.
Here was his chance. Our friend from the country felt that he was in
trouble already. He had no intention of joining the worshippers, for he was
a member of the good old Scotch Kirk; so he opened the car-door, and
stepped out to the platform outside.
The swift, sidelong jerks almost took him off his feet. Grasping the
hand-rail, and looking around for some means of escape, he cautiously
stepped across into the better furnished first-class car behind.
"Bless me, but I'm in luck!" was his inward comment, as he beheld the
comfortable seats. Taking the first empty one, he sank down on the cushions
with evident delight shining from his eyes at his blissful surroundings.
But the argus-eyed conductor soon spied him, and not recognizing him as a
ticket-holder, swooped down upon him at once.
"Your ticket, sir."
"The same to yersel', ma frien'!" was the courteous reply, thinking this
some new form of salutation.
"Here! no nonsense! where's your ticket? let's see where you're going."
"Weel, sir, I'm hopin' to get to Halifax some time 'fore long. We seem to
be gaun as the craws flee, so nae doot we'll soon get there. Does
this--er--buildin'--stop there for victuals or--or onythin'?"
The conductor, thinking him out of his mind, said more mildly:
"Who came with you? Who is looking after you aboard the cars?"
"Oh! a nice young chiel yonder; but he left me alane there, so I stepped
oot withoot his kennin' an' popped in here."
"Ah, yes; just so. I've no doubt there is a spare room in one of the public
institutions awaiting you. What sort of a looking man has you in charge?"
"Oh! he's a clever young chiel, wi' a door-plate on his bonnet; the sexton,
I tak' it."
Not making much out of this information, the conductor left him to make
inquiries ahead, tapping his forehead significantly to some passengers
near, who had overheard the conversation, and who, as soon as the conductor
was out of sight, began to question the "harmless lunatic."
His answers to their inquiries were not more clear than those the conductor
had elicited, and Mr. Sherwood, who sat a few seats behind, becoming
indignant at the rude jokes that were being made at the expense of the
unfortunate man, stepped forward to interfere.
Surely he had seen the man before. He gazed at the man's distressed face,
but could not place him.
"What's the trouble, my friend?" he asked, sitting down in the seat behind
and leaning over to speak to him.
"I'm shure I dinna ken, sir, at a', at a'. There's a mistak' afloat
somewhere. I never was in sic a fix afore. This is a queer kintry, I tak'
it."
"Where are you from?"
That question set him on the right track at once. He could tell his story
if once he started at the beginning, though he found it impossible to make
these strangers comprehend his present dilemma; so beginning from the time
he left his own dooryard with the last cartload of potatoes, he gave them a
detailed account of his wanderings up to the time when he met the fine
young gentlemen in Halifax. But he had no idea how he got to Truro; that
was all a blank to him. When Mr. Sherwood explained that the train on which
he was riding was a public conveyance which went back and forth daily to
carry passengers and freight, he could scarcely believe it. His own
explanation seemed the more plausible, for did it not agree with what the
young sexton told him? He had been befooled once too often to listen to the
many explanations of those around him.
But the conductor now appeared, having found out all there was to tell
about the man, and feeling annoyed at his mistake, now demanded of the
countryman either his ticket or his fare, and threatened to put him off the
train at the next station if he did not produce either the one or the
other.
"But, ma guid man, I haena a copper aboot me, or it's wullin' enough I'd be
to gie ye a shullin' or so for this fine drive."
"Well, off you get then the next time we stop."
"But shurely ye wadna be pittin' a puir man oot o' yer waggon, or chapel,
or whatever ye ca' it, whan there's sae mony empty pews? I'm no croodin'
onyane, an' I'm wullin' enough to sit onywhere."
"We don't take people on the cars for nothing," said the conductor,
decidedly. "If you can't pay, you can't ride."
"Weel, it's the rich anes that's aye the stingiest, shure enough," replied
the man, more to himself than to the brass-buttoned figure before him. "But
ye widna fin' the like o' yersel' owre in ma kintry, let me tell ye! The
puirest farmer widna refuse to gie a stranger a lift if he was gaun the
same way as himsel', even if it was only a kairt that he had, an' it loaded
to the brim."
"Can't help it," replied he of the buttons, with a grin. "Off you get at
the next station, or we'll put you off without ceremony."
"But I'll no gang aff, if I may be sae bold as to tell ye!" said the now
angry farmer. "Ye took me to Truro against ma wull, for why did I want to
gang to a place that I never heard o' afore; so, then, ye'll tak' me back
to Halifax again, wullin' or no, an' whan I get my money back I'll sen' ye
the price o' the drive. If ye think I'm croodin' the gentlemen, I'll gang
oot an' sit on the steps o' yer backdoor, but, guidness only kens! there
seems room enough in these empty pews for a dizzen o' ma size."
"Here, conductor, I'll pay the man's fare," said Mr. Sherwood, who had
listened to the conversation with ill-concealed amusement.
This being satisfactory to the conductor, the man was allowed to keep his
seat in peace, and, engaging him in conversation, Mr. Sherwood discovered
that he had been the guest of the man's brother during one of his trips to
Prince Edward Island. His home was on the north side of the island, and the
farm of Roderick McDonald was well known as one of the best-paying places
on the "Garden of the St. Lawrence."
On finding that the man beside him was the Yankee horse-buyer, Mr. McDonald
rose and shook his hand with a warmth that showed his pleasure at the
meeting.
This unexpected kindness from one whom he had learned to consider as a man
of unlimited means and unusual smartness, quite set him up in his own
estimation.
He began to feel quite elated at his present position, and felt himself a
hero as he related to the attentive strangers the many strange things he
had seen since he left home, quite ignoring the fact that some of his
listeners might have been "abroad" as well as himself.
But it was impossible to put a damper on this loquacious countryman, even
though he loudly set forth his own ignorance.
"Oh! but I'm a great traveller!" said he. "There's nae kennin' hoo mony
miles I've travelled since I left ma hame on the north side o' the Islan'!
Let's see; it's thirty miles frae there to the toon, an' it tak's a hale
day to cover the distance wi' a loaded kairt o' tawties, let me tell ye!
Then, whan we were snug aboard the vessel, guidness only kens hoo mony
miles we went afore we cam' fornenst the city o' Halifax, for we were three
days on the michty ocean, at the mercy o' ony storm that micht come alang
unawares. Yes, indeed, an' we travelled alang through the dark nicht as
weel, they tell me, though that I'm no prepared to say, seem' that I was
fast asleep in the hold," and he looked around to see if any of his hearers
doubted his word. "Then, whan we got to the wharf in Halifax, an' I selt ma
tawties an' oats, I cam' ashore an' tramped the streets o' Halifax, up hill
an' doon dale, till ma new buits are a' worn oot behin', as ye can see for
yersel's," and he lifted up his feet, one after the other, that the truth
of his words might be verified; then continuing: "It was whan the thiefin'
scoon'rels met me an' made ma acquaintance that I gaed wrang; but I never
suspected they'd start me on ma travels again, an' withoot ma kennin',
tae--ay, an' sen' me aff withoot as muckle as a copper in ma pocket, at a',
at a'! no even as muckle as wad buy me a bit o' breakfast, which the guid
folk at Truro gied me for naethin', an', if it hadna been for them, I don't
think I wad ever hae been able to fin' ma way back to ma hame on the farm.
But here I am, richt amang the gentlemen an' ladies, travellin' alang like
the Queen hersel' micht be prood to dae. Ay, but it's a long story I'll hae
to tell them at hame whan ainst I get back to ma ain kintry again, an' it's
themsel's that'll be dum'foon'ert to hear me tell aboot the mony kinds o'
folk ain meets whan they gang abroad!"
"Have you met any naked savages since you left your distant country?" asked
one of the sports, with a wink at his comrade.
"Naked savages, is't, you mean? Ay, that I hae, or nearly naked anes," was
the quick reply. "On the streets o' Halifax, sir, near the wharves, sir,
that's whaur ye'll come across them, but, dae ye ken noo, I aye thocht
that savages were black, made sae I mean whan they were born into this
worl'. But, dae ye min', it's masel' thinks that some o' them could be made
white, if only ane had soap an' water enough to dae't. No that I didna see
ony black savages roamin' roon' as weel; but maist o' them had some
claithes on, like decent Christian folk. Some hadna come to that knowledge
yet; but the nakedness o' black skinned savages isna sae noticin' as that
o' white savages, I tak' it."
A hearty laugh followed this last remark, and the conversation became
general, until the train arrived in Halifax.
Mr. Sherwood took the countryman to the police headquarters at once, where
the story of the theft was told at length, and as he could give a good
description of the men who had robbed him it was thought that they might be
captured.
As Mr. Sherwood had received such kind treatment from the man's relations
in Prince Edward Island, he thought it but fair to repay it by looking
after the farmer during the rest of his stay in the city.
To satisfy the man that the vessel had not sailed during his absence he
took him down to the wharf, and, after explaining to the captain the cause
of his detention, Mr. Sherwood insisted on taking him up to visit his own
family.
The farmer demurred at this, saying that his clothes were not in a fit
state to visit anywhere.
This fact was evident, but Mr. Sherwood intended to visit a ready-made
clothing store on his way up town, and make his friend presentable.
This was rather a delicate matter to accomplish without wounding the man's
feelings; but the native tact of the Yankee served him well here, and when
the farmer stepped before the large mirror in the back shop of Silver's
clothing store and saw his own reflection, he hardly knew himself.
"But hoo am I ever gaun to repay ye?" he asked. "If I shouldna get ma money
back I'll be in a bad fix."
"Not at all, Mr. McDonald. I'll buy the best horse you have got, if you
will sell him to me, and we can settle this little matter then; but I made
enough on the big black horse I bought from your brother to give you this
suit and still have a good profit besides."
"Weel, ye're an honest man, for ye paid a guid price for the beast, an'
paid it in cash tae."
"Thank you for your good opinion; but in case the police should not find
those rascals before the vessel sails, it will be rather hard on you to
return home with empty pockets, so let me pay you in advance for that
horse."
It was quite a different-looking man that came out of the store a few
minutes later, for he had been refitted from hat to boots, and he looked
the well-to-do farmer to the life, even the well-filled purse was not
lacking, for Mr. Sherwood had given him the horse's value instead of the
modest sum the farmer stated as the selling price of his animal.
The polite store-keeper promised to send the farmer's cast-off garments to
the vessel, and Mr. Sherwood was soon introducing his friend to the members
of his household.
Mr. Sherwood's unexpected arrival made a joyful excitement, and the farmer
mentally resolved that an account of the happy meeting between the Yankee
horse-buyer and his family should be added to the rest of the story he had
to tell when once he arrived home.
When Mr. Sherwood had privately explained to the family the present
position of his new friend, together with the respectability of the family
and the kind treatment he had received from their hands, he was treated as
an honored guest, and Dexie had never been so gracious to the fastidious
Plaisted or treated him with half the courtesy as she now bestowed on the
honest, kind-hearted, though ignorant countryman.
That this kindness was appreciated was quite evident from the satisfaction
that beamed from every wrinkle on his honest face; and when he found
himself seated in the most comfortable chair in the parlor, listening to
the music that Dexie was bringing forth from the piano for his pleasure,
he doubted in his mind if even the Governor himself was as happy and
fortunate as he.
As the vessel was to sail the next day for Charlottetown, he had to leave
the pleasant rooms for closer quarters on board the vessel; but before he
said farewell he exacted a promise that, should any of them ever go to the
Island, they would visit his home on the north shore.
As the vessel was about to leave the wharf Mr. Sherwood appeared,
accompanied by a member of the police force, who gave over to the hand of
the farmer about half the sum which had been stolen from him, and the man
actually felt richer than when the whole amount had lain in his pocket. He
pressed Mr. Sherwood to accept payment for the drive on the train and for
his new suit, but Mr. Sherwood reminded him of the horse he had purchased,
saying:
"Look well after my horse, McDonald, and if you will find out where I can
get some more good animals I will be glad to pay you for the time and
trouble expended in doing so," and with a hearty hand-clasp Mr. Sherwood
stepped ashore.
In a few minutes the vessel's cable was shipped and she slowly passed down
the harbor, bearing on her deck one who had a heart full of gratitude for
kindness shown a stranger in a strange land.