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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19257-h.zip b/19257-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..03ee93e --- /dev/null +++ b/19257-h.zip diff --git a/19257-h/19257-h.htm b/19257-h/19257-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6238678 --- /dev/null +++ b/19257-h/19257-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1511 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Michael McGrath, Postmaster, by Ralph Connor + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Michael McGrath, Postmaster, by Ralph Connor + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Michael McGrath, Postmaster + +Author: Ralph Connor + +Release Date: September 12, 2006 [EBook #19257] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MICHAEL MCGRATH, POSTMASTER *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Joseph R. Hauser and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>MICHAEL McGRATH,</h1> +<h1>POSTMASTER</h1> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3 class="smcap">By RALPH CONNOR</h3> +<h6><i>Author of "The Sky Pilot," "Black Rock," Etc.</i></h6> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4>FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY</h4> +<h6>CHICAGO NEW YORK TORONTO</h6> + + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + + +<h6 class="smcap">Copyright 1900</h6> + +<h6>BY</h6> + +<h6 class="smcap">Fleming H. Revell Company</h6> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Michael_McGrath_Postmaster" id="Michael_McGrath_Postmaster"></a><span class="smcap">Michael McGrath, Postmaster.</span></h2> + + +<p>Some men and some scenes so fasten themselves into one's memory that the +years, with their crowding scenes and men, have no power to displace +them. I can never forget "Ould Michael" and the scene of my first +knowing him. All day long I rode, driving in front my pack-pony laden +with my photograph kit, tent and outfit, following the trail that would +end somewhere on the Pacific Coast, some hundreds of miles away. I was +weary enough of dodging round the big trees, pushing through underbrush, +scrambling up and down mountain-sides, hugging cliffs where the trail +cut in and wading warily through the roaring torrent of "Sixty-mile +Creek." As the afternoon wore on, the trail left the creek and wound +away over a long slope up the mountain-side.</p> + +<p>"Ginger," said I to my riding pony, "we are getting somewhere"—for our +trail began to receive other trails from the side valleys and the going +was better. At last it pushed up into the open, circled round a shoulder +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>of the mountain, clinging tight, for the drop was sheer two hundred +feet, and—there before us stretched the great Fraser Valley! From my +feet the forest rolled its carpet of fir-tops—dark-green, soft, +luxurious. Far down to the bottom and up again, in waving curves it +swept, to the summit of the distant mountains opposite, and through this +dark-green mass the broad river ran like a silver ribbon gleaming in the +sunlight.</p> + +<p>Following the line of the trail, my eye fell upon that which has often +made men's hearts hard and lured them on to joyous death. There, above +the green tree-tops, in a clearing, stood a tall white mast and from the +peak, flaunting its lazy, proud defiance, flew a Union Jack.</p> + +<p>"Now, Ginger, how in the name of the Empire comes that brave rag to be +shaking itself out over these valleys!"</p> + +<p>Ginger knew not, but, in answer to my heels, set off at a canter down +the slope and, in a few minutes, we reached a grassy bench that +stretched down to the river-bank. On the bench was huddled an irregular +group of shacks and cabins and, in front of the first and most imposing +of them, stood the tall mast with its floating flag. On the wide +platform that ran in front of this log cabin a man was sitting, smoking +a short bull-dog pipe. By his dress and style I saw at once that he had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>served in Her Majesty's army. As I rode up under the flag I lifted my +cap, held it high and called out: "God save the Queen!" Instantly he was +on his feet and, coming to attention with a military salute, replied +with great fervor: "God bless her!" From that moment he took me to his +heart.</p> + +<p>That was my introduction to "Ould Michael," as everyone in the Valley +called him, and as he called himself.</p> + +<p>After his fifth glass, when he would become dignified, "Ould Michael" +would drop his brogue and speak of himself as "Sergeant McGrath, late of +Her Majesty's Ninety-third Highlanders," Irishman though he was.</p> + +<p>Though he had passed his sixtieth year, he was still erect and brisk +enough in his movement, save for a slight hitch in his left leg. "A +touch of a knife," he explained, "in the Skoonder Bag."</p> + +<p>"The where?"</p> + +<p>"Skoonder Bag, forninst the walls the Lucknow—to the left over, ye +understand."</p> + +<p>"I'm ashamed to say I don't," I answered, feeling that I was on the +track of a yarn.</p> + +<p>He looked at me pityingly.</p> + +<p>"Ye've heard av Sir Colin?" He was not going to take anything for +granted.</p> + +<p>I replied hastily: "Sir Colin Campbell, of course."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>"Well, we was followin' Sir Colin up to the belagured city when we run +into the Skoonder Bag—big stone walls and windys high up, and full av +min, like a jail, or a big disthillery."</p> + +<p>Then, like a dream from the past, it came to me that he was talking of +that bloody fight about and in the "Secunderabogh," where, through a +breach two feet square, the men of the Ninety-third, man by man, forced +their way in the face of a thousand Sepoys, mad for blood and, with +their bayonets, piled high in gory heaps the bodies of their black foes, +crying with every thrust, in voices hoarse with rage and dust, +"Cawnpore! Cawnpore!" That tale Ould Michael would never tell till his +cups had carried him far beyond the stage of dignity and reserve.</p> + +<p>After he had helped me to picket my ponies and pitch my tent, he led me +by a little gate through his garden to the side door of the cabin.</p> + +<p>The garden was trim, like Ould Michael himself, set out in rectangular +beds, by gravel-walks and low-cut hedges of "old man." It was filled +with all the dear old-fashioned flowers—Sweet William and Sweet Mary, +bachelor's buttons, pansies and mignonette, old country daisies and +snapdragons and lilies of the valley and, in the centre of the beds, +great masses of peonies, while all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> around, peeping from under the +hedges of old man, were poppies of every hue. Beyond the garden there +was a plot of potatoes, cabbage and other vegetables and, best of all +and more beautiful than all, over the whole front of the cabin, +completely hiding the rough logs, ran a climbing rose, a mass of +fragrant bloom. Ould Michael lingered lovingly for a moment among his +flowers, and then led me into the house.</p> + +<p>The room into which we entered was a wonder for preciseness and order. +The walls were decorated with prints, much-faded photographs, stuffed +birds, heads of deer and a quaint collection of old-fashioned guns, +pistols and bayonets, but all arranged with an exactness and taste that +would drive mad the modern artistic decorator. On one side of the window +hung a picture of Wellington: on the other, that of Sir Colin. To the +right of the clock, on a shelf, stood a stuffed mallard; to the left on +a similar shelf, stood a stuffed owl. The same balance was diligently +preserved in the arrangement of his weapons of war. A pine table stood +against one wall, flanked by a home-made chair on either side. A door +opened to the left into a bedroom, as I supposed; another, to the right, +into what Ould Michael designated "My office, sir."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>"Office?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," still preserving his manual of ceremony, "Her Majesty's mail +for Grand Bend."</p> + +<p>"And you are the Postmaster?" I said, throwing into my voice the respect +and awe that I felt were expected.</p> + +<p>"That same," with a salute.</p> + +<p>"That explains the flag, then; you are bound to keep that flying, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"Bound, sir? Yes, but by no law is it."</p> + +<p>"How, then?"</p> + +<p>"For twenty-five years I marched and fought under that same flag," said +the old soldier, dropping into his brogue, "and under it, plaze God, +I'll die."</p> + +<p>I looked at the old man. In his large dark-blue eyes shone that "fire +that never slumbers"—the fire of loyal valor, with its strange power to +transform common clay into men of heroic mould. The flag, the garden, +the postoffice—these were Ould Michael's household gods. The equipment +of the postoffice was primitive enough.</p> + +<p>"Where are the boxes?" I inquired; "the letter-boxes, you know; to put +the letters into."</p> + +<p>"An' what wud I do puttin' them into boxes, at all?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to distribute the mail so that you could find every man's letter +when he calls for it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>"An' what would I be doin' findin' a man's letter for him? Shure an' +can't he find it himself on the counter there?" pointing to a wide plank +that ran along the wall.</p> + +<p>I explained fully the ordinary system of distributing mail to him.</p> + +<p>"Indade, 'tis a complicated system intoirely," and then he proceeded to +explain his own, which he described as "simple and unpretenshus" and, +sure enough, it was; for the letters were strewn upon the top of the +counter, the papers and other mail-matter thrown underneath, and every +man helped himself to his own.</p> + +<p>"But might there not be mistakes?" I suggested. "A man might take his +neighbor's letter."</p> + +<p>"An' what would he do wid another man's letter forby the discooshun that +might enshoo?"</p> + +<p>I was very soon to have an opportunity of observing the working of Ould +Michael's system, for next day was mailday and, in the early afternoon, +men began to arrive from the neighboring valleys for their monthly mail. +Ould Michael introduced me to them all with much ceremony and I could +easily see that he was a personage of importance among them. Not only +was he, as postmaster, the representative among them of Her Majesty's +Government, but they were proud of him as standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> for all that was +heroic in the Empire's history; for a man who had touched shoulders with +those who had fought their way under India's fierce suns and through +India's swamps and jungles, from Calcutta to Lucknow and back, was no +common citizen, but a man who trailed glory in his wake. More than this, +Ould Michael was a friend to all, and they loved him for his simple, +generous heart. Too generous, as it turned out, for every month it was +his custom to summon his friends to Paddy Dougan's bar and spend the +greater part of the monthly remittance that came in his letter from +home. That monthly letter should be placed in the category of household +gods with the flag, the garden and the postoffice. Its arrival was +always an occasion for celebration—not for the remittance it contained, +but for the wealth of love and tender memory it brought to Ould Michael +in this far-off land.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon, just before the arrival of the mail-stage, there +rode up the bench towards the postoffice a man remarkable even in that +company of remarkable men. He was tall—a good deal over six +feet—spare, bony, with huge hands and feet and evidently possessed +of immense strength. His face and head were covered with a mass of +shaggy hair—brick-red mixed with grey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>—and out of this mass +of grizzled hair gleamed two small grey eyes, very bright and very keen. +</p> + +<p>"Howly mither av Moses!" shouted Ould Michael rushing towards him; "'tis +McFarquhar. My friend, Mr. McFarquhar," said Ould Michael, presenting me +in his most ceremonious style and standing at attention.</p> + +<p>McFarquhar took my hand in his paw and gave me a grasp so cordial that, +were it not for the shame of it, I would have roared out in agony.</p> + +<p>"I am proud to make the acquaintance of you," he said, with a strong +highland accent. "You will be a stranger in these parts?"</p> + +<p>I told him as much of my history and affairs as I thought necessary and +drew from him as much information about himself and his life as I could, +which was not much. He had come to the country a lad of twenty to take +service under the Hudson Bay Company. Fifteen years ago had left the +Company and had settled in the valley of Grizzly Creek, which empties +into the Fraser a little below the Grand Bend. I found out too, but not +from himself, that he had married an Indian woman and that, with her and +his two boys, he lived the half-savage life of a hunter and rancher. He +was famous as a hunter of the grizzly bears that once frequented his +valley and, indeed, he bore the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> name of "Grizzly McFarquhar" among the +old-timers.</p> + +<p>He was Ould Michael's dearest friend. Many a long hunt had they taken +together, and over and over again did they owe their lives to each +other. But the hour had now come for the performance of Ould Michael's +monthly duty. The opening of the mail was a solemn proceeding. The bag +was carried in from the stage by Ould Michael, followed by the entire +crowd in a kind of triumphal procession, and reverently deposited upon +the counter. The key was taken down from its hook above the window, +inserted into the lock, turned with a flourish and then hung up in its +place. From his pocket Ould Michael then took a clasp-knife with a +wicked-looking, curved blade, which he laid beside the bag. He then +placed a pair of spectacles on his nose and, in an impressive manner and +amidst dead silence, opened the bag, poured out its contents upon the +counter, turned it inside out and carefully shook it. No one in the +crowd moved. With due deliberation Ould Michael, with the wicked-looking +clasp knife, proceeded to cut the strings binding the various bundles of +letters and papers. The papers were then deposited beneath the counter +upon the floor, and the letters spread out upon the counter. The last +act of the ceremony was the selecting by Ould Michael of his own lett<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>er +from the pile, after which, with a waive of the hand, he declared, +"Gentlemen, the mail is open," when they flung themselves upon it with +an eagerness that told of the heart-hunger for news from a far-country +that is like cool water to the thirsty soul.</p> + +<p>The half-hour that followed the distribution of the mail offered a scene +strange and touching. The men who had received letters stood away from +the crowd and read them with varying expressions of delight or grief, or +in silence that spoke more deeply than could any words. For that +half-hour the lonely valleys in these deep forests stood back from them, +and there opened up a vision of homes far away, filled with faces and +echoing with voices that some of them knew they would never see nor hear +again.</p> + +<p>But no man ever saw Ould Michael read his letter. That half-hour he +spent in his inner room and, when he came out, there was lingering about +his face a glory as of a departing vision. The dark-blue eyes were +darker than before and in them that soft, abstracted look that one sees +in the eye of a child just awakened from sleep. His tongue, so ready at +other times, would be silent; and he would move softly over to his +friend McFarquhar,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> and stand there as in a dream. As he came toward us +on this occasion, McFarquhar said, in an undertone: "It is good news +to-day with Ould Michael," adding in answer to my look of inquiry, "His +sister has charge of his little girl at home."</p> + +<p>Ould Michael steed in silence beside his friend for some moments.</p> + +<p>"All well, Michael?" asked McFarquhar.</p> + +<p>"They are, that," answered the old soldier, with a happy sigh. "Och, +'tis the lovely land it is, and it's ha-ard to kape away from it."</p> + +<p>"I am thinking you are better away from it than in it," said McFarquhar, +dryly.</p> + +<p>"Indade, an' it's thrue for you," answered Ould Michael, "but the longer +y're from it the more ye love it, an' it's God bless Ould Oireland siz +I," and he bore us off to celebrate.</p> + +<p>It was useless for me to protest. His duty for the month was over; he +was a free man. He had had his good news; and why should he not +celebrate? Besides, he had money in his pocket, and "what would the byes +think av me if I neglected to set 'em up?" And set 'em up he did for +"the byes" and for himself, till I heard McFarquhar taking him to his +cabin to put him to bed long after I had turned in. All through the +following Sunday Ould Michael continued his celebration, with the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>hearty and uproarious assistance of the rest of the men and most of them +remained over night for Ould Michael's Sunday spree, which they were +sure would follow.</p> + +<p>How completely Paddy Dougan's whisky, most of which he made on his back +premises, changed Ould Michael and the whole company! From being solemn, +silent, alert and generally good-natured, they became wildly vociferous, +reckless, boastful and quarrelsome. That Sunday, as always happens in +the Mountains, where there are plenty of whisky and a crowd of men, was +utterly horrible. The men went wild in all sorts of hideous horseplay, +brawls and general debauchery, and among them Ould Michael reigned a +king.</p> + +<p>"It is bad whisky," McFarquhar exclaimed. McFarquhar himself was never +known to get drunk, for he knew his limit on good whisky, and he avoided +bad. Paddy Dougan knew better than to give him any of his own home-made +brew, for if, after his fourth, McFarquhar found himself growing +incapable, knowing that he could enjoy his sixth and even carry with +comfort his ninth, then his rage blazed forth, and the only safety for +Paddy lay in escape to the woods. It was not so much that he despised +the weakness of getting drunk, but he resented the fraud that deprived +him of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> pleasure of leisurely pursuing his way to his proper limit.</p> + +<p>"It is the <i>bad</i> whisky," repeated McFarquhar "and Ould Michael ought to +know better than fill himself up with such deplorable stuff."</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" I said.</p> + +<p>"Ay, but I'll jist take him away with me to-morrow and he'll come to in +a few days."</p> + +<p>I knew enough of the life in these valleys not to be hard with Ould +Michael and his friends. The slow monotony of the long, lonely weeks +made any break welcome, and the only break open to them was that +afforded by Paddy Dougan's best home-made, a single glass of which would +drive a man far on to madness. A new book, a fresh face, a social +gathering, a Sabbath service—how much one or all of these might do for +them!</p> + +<p>With difficulty I escaped from Ould Michael's hospitality and, leaving +the scenes of beastly debauchery behind, betook myself to the woods and +river. Here, on the lower bench, the woods became an open glade with +only the big trees remaining.</p> + +<p>I threw myself down on the river-bank and gave myself up to the gracious +influences that stole in upon, me from trees and air and grass and the +flowing river. The Sabbath feeling began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> to grow upon me, as the pines +behind and the river in front sang to each other soft, crooning songs. +As I lay and listened to the solemn music of the great, swaying pines +and the soft, full melody of the big river, my heart went back to my +boyhood days when I used to see the people gather in the woods for the +"Communion." There was the same soothing quiet over all, the same soft, +crooning music and, over all, the same sense of a Presence. In my +dreaming, ever and again there kept coming to me the face of Ould +Michael, with the look that it bore after reading his home-letter, and I +thought how different would his Sabbath day have been had his sister and +his little one been near to stand between him and the dreariness and +loneliness of his life.</p> + +<p>True to his promise, McFarquhar carried off Ould Michael to his ranch up +Grizzly Creek. Before the sun was high McFarquhar had his own and +Michael's pony ready at the door and, however unwilling Ould Michael +might be, there was nothing for it but march. As they rode off Ould +Michael took off his hat under the flag and called out:</p> + +<p>"God save Her Majesty!"</p> + +<p>"God bless her!" I echoed heartily.</p> + +<p>At once the old soldier clambered down and, tearing open his coat, +pulled out a flask.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p><p>"Mr. McFarquhar," he said, solemnly, "it would be unbecoming in us to +separate from our friend without duly honoring Her Gracious Majesty's +name." Then, raising high the flask, he called out with great ceremony, +and dropping his brogue entirely: "Gentlemen, I give you the Queen, God +bless her!" He raised the flask to his lips and took a long pull and +passed it to me. After we had duly honored the toast, Ould Michael once +more struck an impressive attitude and called out: "Gentlemen, Her +Majesty's loyal forces——" when McFarquhar reached for him and, taking +the flask out of his hand, said, gravely:</p> + +<p>"It is a very good toast, but we will postpone the rest till a more +suitable occasion."</p> + +<p>Ould Michael, however, was resolute.</p> + +<p>"It would ill become a British soldier to permit this toast to go +unhonored."</p> + +<p>"Will you come after this one is drunk?" asked McFarquhar.</p> + +<p>"I will that."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said McFarquhar, "I drink to the very good health of Her +Majesty's army," and, taking a short pull, he put the flask into his +pocket.</p> + +<p>Ould Michael gazed at him in amazed surprise and, after the full meaning +of the joke had dawned upon him, burst out into laughter.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>"Bedad, McFarquhar, it's the first joke ye iver made, but the less +fraquent they are the better I loike them." So saying, he mounted his +pony and, once more saluting me and then the flag, made off with his +friend. Every now and then, however, I could see him sway in his saddle +under the gusts of laughter at the excellence of McFarquhar's joke.</p> + +<p>That was the last I saw of Ould Michael for more than six months, but +often through that winter, as I worked my way to the Coast, I wondered +what the monthly mails were doing for the old man and whether to him and +to his friends of those secluded valleys any better relief from the +monotony of life had come than that offered by Paddy Dougan's back room.</p> + +<p>In early May I found myself once more with my canvas and photographic +apparatus approaching Grand Bend, but this time from the West. As I +reached the curve in the river where the trail leads to the first view +of the town I eagerly searched for Ould Michael's flag. There stood the +mast, sure enough, but there was no flag in sight. What had happened to +Ould Michael? While he lived his flag would fly. Had he left Grand Bend, +or had Paddy Dougan's stuff been too much for him? I was rather +surprised to find in my heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> a keen anxiety for the old soldier. As I +hurried on I saw that Grand Bend had heard the sound of approaching +civilization and was waking up. Two or three saloons, a blacksmith's +shop, some tents and a new general store proclaimed a boom. As I +approached the store I saw a sign in big letters across the front, +"Jacob Wragge, General Store," and immediately over the door, in smaller +letters, "Postoffice." More puzzled than ever I flung my reins over the +hitching-post and went in. A number of men stood leaning against the +counter and piled-up boxes, none of whom I knew.</p> + +<p>"Is Ould Michael in?" I asked, forgetting for the moment his proper +name.</p> + +<p>"In where?" asked the man behind the counter.</p> + +<p>"The postoffice," I replied. "Doesn't he keep the postoffice?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," he answered, with an insolent laugh; "it's not much he could +keep, unless it's whisky."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you can tell me where he is?" I asked, keeping my temper down, +for I longed to reach for his throat.</p> + +<p>"You'll find him boozing in one of the saloons, like enough, the old +sot."</p> + +<p>I walked out without further word, for the long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>ing for his throat grew +almost more than I could bear, and went across to Paddy Dougan's. Paddy +expressed great delight at seeing me again and, on my asking for Ould +Michael, became the picture of woe.</p> + +<p>Four months ago the postoffice had been taken from Ould Michael and set +up in Jacob Wragge's store, and with the old soldier things had gone +badly ever since.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, an' I'll not desave you," said Paddy, adopting a +confidential undertone, "he's drinkin' too much and he is."</p> + +<p>"And where is he? And where's his flag?"</p> + +<p>"His flag is it?" Paddy shook his head as if to say, "Now you <i>have</i> +touched the sore spot. Shure, an' didn't he haul down the flag the day +they took the affice frum him."</p> + +<p>"And has he never put it up again?"</p> + +<p>"Niver a bit av it, Man dear," and Paddy walked out with me in great +excitement.</p> + +<p>"Do you know he niver heard a word till the stage druv be his dure with +the mail-bag an' the tap av it an' left the ould man standin' there +alone. Man, do you know, you wud ha' cried, so you wud, at the look av +him; and then he walked over to the flag and hauled it down an' flung it +inside the affice, an' there it's yit; an' niver a joke out av him +since."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>"And what is McFarquhar doing all the time?"</p> + +<p>"Shure he's off on his spring hunt this three months; an' he thried to +get Ould Michael to go along wid him, but niver a bit wud he; but I +heard he'll be in to-day and, bedad, there he is!"</p> + +<p>Sure enough there was McFarquhar, riding toward us. He gave me a warm +welcome back and then fell into talking of Ould Michael. He had only +seen him once after the loss of his position, but he feared things were +going badly with him. I told him all that Paddy had given me as we +searched the saloons. Ould Michael was not to be seen.</p> + +<p>"He will be at home very likely," said McFarquhar. "We will jist put a +stop to this kind of work."</p> + +<p>McFarquhar was torn between grief over his friend's trouble and +indignation at his weakness and folly. We rode up to Ould Michael's +cabin. The "office" door was locked and the windows boarded up. In the +garden all was a wild tangle of flowers and weeds. Nature was bravely +doing her best, but she missed the friendly hand that in the past had +directed her energies. The climbing rose covered with opening buds was +here and there torn from the bare logs.</p> + +<p>"Man, man!" cried McFarquhar, "this is a terrible change whatever."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>We knocked at the side door and waited, but there was no answer. I +pushed the door open and there, in the midst of disorder and dirt, sat +Ould Michael. I could hardly believe it possible that in so short a time +so great a change could come to a man. His hair hung in long grey locks +about his ears, his face was unshaven, his dress dirty and slovenly and +his whole appearance and attitude suggested ruin and despair. But the +outward wreck was evidently only an index to the wreck of soul, that had +gone on. Out of the dark-blue eyes there shone no inner light. The +bright, brave, cheery old soldier was gone, and in his place the figure +of disorder and despair. He looked up at our entering, then turned from +us, shrinking, and put his hands to his face, swaying to and fro and +groaning deeply.</p> + +<p>McFarquhar had come prepared to adopt strong measures, but the sight of +Ould Michael, besotted and broken, was more than he could stand.</p> + +<p>"Michael, man!" he cried, amazement and grief in his voice. "Aw, +Michael, man! What's this? What's this?"</p> + +<p>He went to him and laid his big bony hand on Ould Michael's shoulder. At +his words and touch the old man broke into sobbing, terrible to see.</p> + +<p>"Whisht, man," said McFarquhar, as he might to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> a child, "whist, whist, +lad! It will be well with you yet."</p> + +<p>But Ould Michael could not be comforted, but sobbed on and on. A man's +weeping has something terrible in it, but an old man's tears are hardest +of all to bear. McFarquhar stood helpless for some moments; then, taking +Ould Michael by the arm, he said:</p> + +<p>"Come out of this, anyway! Come out!"</p> + +<p>But it was long before Ould Michael would talk. He sat in silence while +his friend discoursed to him about the folly of allowing Paddy to +deceive him with bad whisky. Surely any man could tell the bad from the +good.</p> + +<p>"It is deplorable stuff altogether, and it will not be good for Paddy +when I see him."</p> + +<p>"Och!" burst out Ould Michael at last, "it is not the whisky at all, at +all."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that is a great part of it, whatever."</p> + +<p>"Och! me hea-art is broke, me hea-art is broke," groaned Ould Michael.</p> + +<p>"Hoots, man! is it for the p'stoffice? That was not much worth to any +man."</p> + +<p>But Ould Michael only shook his head. It was hopeless to try to make +such a man appreciate his feelings. McFarquhar rambled on, making light +of the whole affair. The loss could only be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> very trifling. A man could +make much more out of anything else. Poor Ould Michael bore it as long +as he could and then, rising to his feet, cried out:</p> + +<p>"Howly mither av Moses! an' have ye no hea-art inside av ye at all, at +all? 'Tis not the money; the money is dirt!"</p> + +<p>Here McFarquhar strongly dissented. Ould Michael heeded him not, but +poured out his bitterness and grief. "For twinty years and more did I +folly the flag in all lands and in all climates, wid wounds all over me +body, an' medals an' good conduct sthripes an'—an' all that; an' now, +wid niver a word av complaint or explanashun, to be turned aff like a +dog an' worse."</p> + +<p>Then the matter-of-fact McFarquhar, unable to understand these +sentimental considerations, but secretly delighted that he had got Ould +Michael to unbosom himself, began to draw him.</p> + +<p>"Not twenty years, Michael."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-foive years it is, an' more, I'm tellin' ye," replied Ould +Michael, "an' niver wance did the inimy see the back av me coat or the +dust av me heels; an' to think——"</p> + +<p>"How long was it, then, you were with Sir Colin?" continued McFarquhar, +cunningly.</p> + +<p>"Wid Sir Colin? Shure an' didn't I stay wid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> him all the way from +Calcutta to Lucknow an' back? An' didn't I give thim faithful sarvice +here for twelve years—the first man that iver handled the mail in the +valley? An' here I am, like—like—any common man."</p> + +<p>These were the sore spots in his heart. He was shamed before the people +of the valleys in whose presence he had stood forth as the +representative of a grateful sovereign. His Queen and his country—his +glory and pride for all these years—had forgotten him and his years of +service and had cast him aside as worthless; and now he was degraded to +the ranks of a mere private citizen! No wonder he had hauled down his +flag and then, having no interest in life, nothing was left him but +Paddy Dougan and the relief of his bad whisky.—Against Jacob Wragge, +too, who had supplanted him, his rage burned. He would have his heart's +blood yet.</p> + +<p>McFarquhar, as he listened, began to realize how deep was the wound his +old friend had suffered; but all he could say was, "You will come out +with me Michael, and a few weeks out with the dogs will put you right," +but Ould Michael was immovable and McFarquhar, bidding me care for him +and promising to return next week, rode off much depressed. Before the +week was over,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> however, he was back again with great news and in a +state of exaltation.</p> + +<p>"The minister is coming," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Minister?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, he has been with me. The Rev. John Macleod" (or as he made it, +"Magleod") "from Inverness—and he is the grand man! He has the gift."</p> + +<p>I remembered that he was a highlander and knew well what he meant.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," he continued with his strongest accent, "he has been with +me, and very faithfully has he dealt with me. Oh! he is the man of God, +and I hev not heard the likes of him for forty years and more."</p> + +<p>I listened with wonder, as McFarquhar described the visit of the Rev. +John Macleod to his home. I could easily imagine the close dealing +between the minister and McFarquhar, who would give him all reverence +and submission, but when I imagined the highland minister dealing +faithfully with the Indian wife and mother and her boys I failed +utterly.</p> + +<p>"He could not make much of her," meaning his wife, "and the lads," said +McFarquhar sadly, "but there it was that he came very close to myself; +and indeed—indeed—my sins have found me out."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>"What did is say to you? What sins of yours did he discover?" I asked, +for McFarquhar was the most respectable man in all the valley.</p> + +<p>"Oh did he not ask me about my family altar and my duties to my wife and +children?"</p> + +<p>There was no manner of doubt but Mr. Macleod had done some searching in +McFarquhar's heart and had brought him under "deep conviction," as he +said himself. And McFarquhar had great faith that the minister would do +the same for Ould Michael and was indignant when I expressed my doubts.</p> + +<p>"Man aliou" (alive), he cried, "he will make his fery bones to quake."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that that will help him much," I replied. But McFarquhar +only looked at me and shook his head pityingly.</p> + +<p>On Saturday, sure enough, McFarquhar arrived with the minister, and a +service for the day following was duly announced. We took care that Ould +Michael should be in fit condition to be profited by the Rev. John +Macleod's discourse. The service was held in the blacksmith's shop, the +largest building available. The minister was a big, dark man with a +massive head and a great, rolling voice which he used with tremendous +effect in all the parts of his service. The psalm he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> sang mostly alone, +which appeared to trouble him not at all. The scripture lesson he read +with a rhythmic, solemn cadence that may have broken every rule of +elocution, but was nevertheless most impressive. His prayer, during +which McFarquhar stood, while all the rest sat, was a most extraordinary +production. In a most leisurely fashion it pursued its course through a +whole system of theology, with careful explanation at critical places, +lest there should be any mistaking of his position. Then it proceeded to +deal with all classes and condition of men, from the Queen downward. As +to McFarquhar, it was easy to see from his face that the prayer was only +another proof that the minister had "the gift," but to the others, who +had never had McFarquhar's privilege, it was only a marvelous, though +impressive performance. Before he closed, however, he remembered the +people before him and, in simple, strong, heart-reaching words, he +prayed for their salvation.</p> + +<p>"Why, in Heaven's name," I said afterwards to McFarquhar, "didn't he +begin his prayer where he ended? Does he think the Almighty isn't posted +in theology?" But McFarquhar would only reply: "Ay, it was grand? He has +the gift!"</p> + +<p>The sermon was, as McFarquhar said, "ter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>rible powerful." The text I +forget, but it gave the opportunity for an elaborate proof of the +universal depravity of the race and of their consequent condemnation. He +had no great difficulty in establishing the first position to the +satisfaction of his audience, and the effect produced was +correspondingly slight; but when he came to describe the meaning and the +consequences of condemnation, he grew terrible, indeed. His pictures +were lurid in the extreme. No man before him but was greatly stirred up. +Some began to move uneasily in their seats; some tried to assume +indifference; some were openly enraged; but none shared McFarquhar's +visible and solemn delight. Ould Michael's face showed nothing; but, +after all was over, in answer to McFarquhar's enthusiastic exclamation +he finally grunted out:</p> + +<p>"A great sermon, is it? P'raps it was and p'raps it wasn't. It took him +a long time to tell a man what he knew before."</p> + +<p>"And what might that be?" asked McFarquhar.</p> + +<p>"That he was goin' fast to the Divil."</p> + +<p>This McFarquhar could not deny and so he fell into disappointed silence. +He began to fear that the minister might possibly fail with Ould +Michael, after all. I frankly acknowledged the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> fear and tried to +make him see that for men like Ould Michael, and the rest, preaching of +that kind could do little good. With this position McFarquhar warmly +disagreed, but as the week went by he had to confess that on Ould +Michael the minister had no effect at all, for he kept out of his way +and demoted himself to Paddy Dougan as far as we would allow him.</p> + +<p>Then McFarquhar began to despair and to realize how desperate is the +business of saving a man fairly on the way to destruction. But help came +to us—"a mysterious dispensation of Providence," McFarquhar called it. +It happened on the Queen's birthday, when Grand Bend, in excess of loyal +fervor, was doing its best to get speedily and utterly drunk. In other +days Ould Michael had gloried beyond all in the display of loyal spirit; +but to-day he sat, dark and scowling, in Paddy Dougan's barroom. +McFarquhar and I were standing outside the door keeping an eye, but not +too apparently, upon Ould Michael's drinking.</p> + +<p>A big German from the tie-camps, who had lived some years across the +border, and not to his advantage, was holding forth in favor of liberty +and against all tyrannous governments. As Paddy's whisky began to tell +the German became specially abusive against Great Britain and the +Queen. Protests<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> came from all sides, till, losing his temper, the +German gave utterance to a foul slander against Her Majesty's private +life. In an instant Ould Michael was on his feet and at the bar.</p> + +<p>"Dhrink all around!" he cried. The glares were filled and all stood +waiting. "Gentlemen," said Ould Michael, in his best manner; "I give you +Her Gracious Majesty the Queen, God bless her!" With wild yells the +glasses were lifted high and the toast drunk with three times three. The +German, meantime, stood with his glass untouched. When the cheers were +over he said, with a sneer:</p> + +<p>"Shentlemen, fill ub!" The order was obeyed with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"I gif you, 'our noble selfs,' and for de Queen" (using a vile epithet), +"she can look after her ownself." Quick as thought Ould Michael raised +his glass and flung its contents into the German's face, saying, as he +did so: "God save the Queen!" With a roar the German was at him, and +before a hand could be raised to prevent it, Ould Michael was struck to +the floor and most brutally kicked. By this time McFarquhar had tossed +back the crowd right and left and, stooping down, lifted Ould Michael +and carried him out into the air, saying in a husky voice:</p> + +<p>"He is dead! He is dead!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>But in a moment the old man opened his eyes and said faintly:</p> + +<p>"Niver a bit av it, God save——"</p> + +<p>His eyes closed again and he became unconscious. They gave him brandy +and he began to revive. Then McFarquhar rose and looked round for the +German. His hair was fairly bristling round his head; his breath came in +short gasps and his little eyes were blood-shot with fury.</p> + +<p>"You have smitten an old man and helpless," he panted, "and you ought to +be destroyed from the face of the earth; but I will not smite you as I +would a man, but as I would a wasp."</p> + +<p>He swung his long arm like a flail and, with his open hand, smote the +German on the side of the head. It was a terrific blow; under it the +German fell to the earth with a thud. McFarquhar waited a few moments +while the German rose, slowly spitting out broken teeth and blood.</p> + +<p>"Will you now behave yourself," said McFarquhar, moving toward him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, it is enough," said his antagonist hurriedly and went into +the saloon.</p> + +<p>We carried Ould Michael to his cabin and laid him on his bed. He was +suffering dreadfully from some inward wound, but he uttered not a word +of complaint. After he had lain still for some time he looked at +McFarquhar.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>"What is it, lad?" asked McFarquhar.</p> + +<p>"The flag," whispered poor Ould Michael.</p> + +<p>"The flag? Do you want the flag?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head slowly, still looking beseechingly at his friend. All +at once it came to me.</p> + +<p>"You want the flag hauled up, Michael?" I said.</p> + +<p>He smiled and eagerly looked towards me.</p> + +<p>"I'll run it up at once," I said.</p> + +<p>He moved his hand. I came to him and bending over him caught the words +"God save——"</p> + +<p>"All right," I answered, "I shall give it all honor."</p> + +<p>He smiled again, closed his eyes and a look of great peace came upon his +face. His quarrel with his Queen and country was made up and all the +bitterness was gone from his heart. After an examination as full as I +could make, I came to the conclusion that there were three ribs broken +and an injury, more or less serious, to the lungs; but how serious, I +could not tell. McFarquhar established himself in Ould Michael's cabin +and nursed him day and night. He was very anxious that the minister +should see Ould Michael and, when the day came for Mr. Macleod's service +in Grand Bend, I brought him to Ould Michael's cabin, giving him the +whole story on the way. His highland loyalty was stirred.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>"Noble fellow," he said, warmly, "it is a pity he is a Romanist; a sore +pity."</p> + +<p>His visit to Ould Michael was not a success. Even McFarquhar had to +confess that somehow his expounding of the way of salvation to Ould +Michael and his prayers, fervent though they were, did not appeal to the +old soldier; the matter confused and worried him. But however much he +failed with Ould Michael there was no manner of doubt that he was +succeeding with McFarquhar. Long and earnest were their talks and, after +every "season," McFarquhar came forth more deeply impressed with the +grand powers of the minister. He Had already established the "family +altar" in his home and was making some slow progress in instructing his +wife and children in "the doctrine of grace," but as Ould Michael began +to grow stronger, McFarquhar's anxiety about <i>his state</i> grew deeper. +Again and again he had the minister in to him, but Ould Michael remained +unmoved; indeed, he could hardly see what the minister would be at.</p> + +<p>One evening as we three were sitting in Ould Michael's main room, +McFarquhar ventured to express his surprise at Ould Michael's continued +"darkness" as he said:</p> + +<p>"My friend," said the minister, solemnly, "it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> has been given me that +you are the man to lead him into the light."</p> + +<p>"God pity me!" exclaimed McFarquhar. "That I could lead any man!"</p> + +<p>"And more," said the minister, in deepening tones, "it is borne in upon +me that his blood will be upon you."</p> + +<p>McFarquhar's look of horror and fear was pitiable and his voice rose in +an agony of appeal.</p> + +<p>"God be merciful to me! you will not be saying such a word as that."</p> + +<p>"Fear not," replied the minister, "he will be given to you for a jewel +in your crown."</p> + +<p>McFarquhar was deeply impressed.</p> + +<p>"How can this thing be?" he inquired in despair.</p> + +<p>"You are his friend!" The minister's voice rose and fell in solemn +rhythm. "You are strong; he is weak. You will need to put away from you +all that causeth your brother to offend, and so you will lead him into +the light."</p> + +<p>The minister's face was that of a man seeing visions and McFarquhar, +deeply moved, bowed his head and listened in silence. After a time he +said, hesitatingly:</p> + +<p>"And Ould Michael has his weakness and he will be drinking Paddy +Dougan's bad whisky;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> but if he would only keep to the Company's good +whisky——"</p> + +<p>"Man," interrupted the minister, simply, "don't you know it is the good +whisky that kills, for it is the good whisky that makes men love it."</p> + +<p>McFarquhar gazed at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"The good whisky!"</p> + +<p>"Ay," said the minister, firmly, "and indeed there is no good whisky for +drinking."</p> + +<p>McFarquhar rose and from a small cupboard brought back a bottle of the +Hudson Bay Company's brand. "There," he said, pouring out a glass, "you +will not be saying there is no good whisky."</p> + +<p>The minister lifted the glass and smelled it.</p> + +<p>"Try it," said McFarquhar in triumph.</p> + +<p>The minister put it to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Ay," he said, "I know it well! It is the best, but it is also the +worst. For this men have lost their souls. There is no good whisky for +<i>drinking</i>, I'm saying."</p> + +<p>"And what for, then?" asked McFarquhar faintly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it has its place as a medicine or a lotion."</p> + +<p>"A lotion," gasped McFarquhar.</p> + +<p>"Yes, in case of sprains—a sprained ankle, for instance."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>"A lotion!" gasped McFarquhar; "and would you be using the good whisky +to wash your feet with?"</p> + +<p>The minister smiled; but becoming immediately grave, he answered: "Mr. +McFarquhar, how long have you been in the habit of taking whisky?"</p> + +<p>"Fifty years," said McFarquhar promptly.</p> + +<p>"And how many times have you given the bottle to your friend?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I cannot say," said McFarquhar; "but it has never hurt him +whatever."</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit. Do you think that perhaps if Michael had never got the good +whisky from his good friends he might not now be where he is?"</p> + +<p>McFarquhar was silent. The minister rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Mr. McFarquhar, the Lord has a word for you" (McFarquhar rose and stood +as he always stood in church), "and it is this: 'We, then, that are +strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please +ourselves.' It is not given to me to deliver Michael from the bondage of +death, but to you it is given, and of you He will demand, 'Where is +Abel, thy Brother?'"</p> + +<p>The minister's last words rolled forth like words of doom.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>"Man, it is terrible!" said McFarquhar to me as the minister disappeared +down the slope; but he never thought of rejecting the burden of +responsibility laid upon him. That he had helped Ould Michael down he +would hardly acknowledge, but the minister's message bore in upon him +heavily. "Where is Abel, thy brother?" he kept saying to himself. Then +he took up the bottle and, holding it up to the light, he said with +great deliberation:</p> + +<p>"There will be no more of you whatever!"</p> + +<p>From that time forth McFarquhar labored with Ould Michael with a +patience and a tact that amazed me. He did not try to instill theology +into the old man's mind, but he read to him constantly the gospel +stories and followed his reading with prayer—always in Gaelic, however, +for with this Ould Michael found no fault as to him it was no new thing +to hear prayers in a foreign tongue. But one day McFarquhar ventured a +step in advance.</p> + +<p>"Michael," he said timidly, "you will need to be prayin' for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Shure an' don't I inthrate the Blessed Virgin to be doin' that same for +me?"</p> + +<p>McFarquhar had learned to be very patient with his "Romish errors," so +he only replied:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>"Ay, but you must take words upon your own lips," he said, earnestly.</p> + +<p>"An' how can I, then, for niver a word do I know?"</p> + +<p>Then McFarquhar fell into great distress and looked at me imploringly. I +rose and went into the next room, closing the door behind me. Then, +though I tried to make a noise with the chairs, there rose the sound of +McFarquhar's voice; but not with the cadence of the Gaelic prayer. He +had no gift in the English language, he said; but evidently Ould Michael +thought otherwise, for he cared no more for Gaelic prayers.</p> + +<p>By degrees McFarquhar began to hope that Ould Michael would come to the +light, but there was a terrible lack in the old soldier of "conviction +of sin." One day, however, in his reading he came to the words, "the +Captain of our Salvation."</p> + +<p>"Captain, did ye say?" said Ould Michael.</p> + +<p>"Ay, Captain!" said McFarquhar, surprised at the old man's eager face.</p> + +<p>"And what's his rigimint?"</p> + +<p>Then McFarquhar, who had grown quick in following Ould Michael's +thoughts, read one by one all the words that picture the Christian life +as a warfare, ending up with that grand outburst<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> of that noblest of +Christian soldiers, "I have fought the fight, I have kept the faith." +The splendid loyalty of it appealed to Ould Michael.</p> + +<p>"McFarquhar," he said with quivering voice, "I don't understand much +that ye've been sayin' to me, but if the war is still goin' on, an' if +he's afther recruits any more bedad it's mesilf wud like to join."</p> + +<p>McFarquhar was now at home; vividly he set before Ould Michael the +warfare appointed unto men against the world, the flesh and the Devil; +and then, with a quick turn, he said:</p> + +<p>"An' He is calling to all true men, 'Follow me!'"</p> + +<p>"An' wud He have the like av me?" asked Ould Michael, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that He would and set you some fightin'."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Ould Michael, "I'm wid Him." And no soldier in that warfare +ever donned the uniform with simpler faith or wore it with truer heart +than did Ould Michael.</p> + +<p>Meantime I had, through political friends, set things in motion at +Ottawa for the reinstating of Ould Michael in his position as postmaster +at Grand Bend, and this, backed up by a petition, which through +McFarquhar's efforts bore the name of every old-timer in the valleys, +brought about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> the desired end. So one bright day, when Ould Michael was +sunning himself on his porch, the stage drove up to his door and, as in +the old days, dropped the mail-bag. Ould Michael stood up and, waving +his hand to the driver, said:</p> + +<p>"Shure, ye've made a mistake; an' I'm not blamin' ye."</p> + +<p>"Not much," said the driver. "I always bring my mail to the postmaster."</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" I sung out. "God save the Queen!"</p> + +<p>The little crowd that had gathered round took up my cheer.</p> + +<p>"What do ye mean, byes?" said Ould Michael, weakly.</p> + +<p>"It means," said McFarquhar, "that if you have the strength you must +look after your mail as the postmaster should."</p> + +<p>There was a joyous five minutes of congratulation; then the precession +formed as before and, led by Ould Michael, marched into the old cabin. +With trembling fingers Ould Michael cut the strings and selected his +letter—</p> + +<p>"But there'll be no more celebration, byes," he said, nor was there.</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p> +Transcriber's Notes:<br /> +Standardized punctuation.<br /> +Left one instance of clasp-knife and one of clasp knife.<br /> +Page 10: Changed tell to tall.<br /> +Page 29: Changed extarordinary to extraordinary.<br /> +</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Michael McGrath, Postmaster, by Ralph Connor + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MICHAEL MCGRATH, POSTMASTER *** + +***** This file should be named 19257-h.htm or 19257-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/5/19257/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Joseph R. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Michael McGrath, Postmaster + +Author: Ralph Connor + +Release Date: September 12, 2006 [EBook #19257] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MICHAEL MCGRATH, POSTMASTER *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Joseph R. Hauser and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + MICHAEL McGRATH, + + POSTMASTER + + + + + BY RALPH CONNOR + + _Author of "The Sky Pilot," "Black Rock," Etc._ + + + + + + FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY + + CHICAGO NEW YORK TORONTO + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1900 + + BY + + FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY + + + + +MICHAEL McGRATH, POSTMASTER. + + +Some men and some scenes so fasten themselves into one's memory that the +years, with their crowding scenes and men, have no power to displace +them. I can never forget "Ould Michael" and the scene of my first +knowing him. All day long I rode, driving in front my pack-pony laden +with my photograph kit, tent and outfit, following the trail that would +end somewhere on the Pacific Coast, some hundreds of miles away. I was +weary enough of dodging round the big trees, pushing through underbrush, +scrambling up and down mountain-sides, hugging cliffs where the trail +cut in and wading warily through the roaring torrent of "Sixty-mile +Creek." As the afternoon wore on, the trail left the creek and wound +away over a long slope up the mountain-side. + +"Ginger," said I to my riding pony, "we are getting somewhere"--for our +trail began to receive other trails from the side valleys and the going +was better. At last it pushed up into the open, circled round a shoulder +of the mountain, clinging tight, for the drop was sheer two hundred +feet, and--there before us stretched the great Fraser Valley! From my +feet the forest rolled its carpet of fir-tops--dark-green, soft, +luxurious. Far down to the bottom and up again, in waving curves it +swept, to the summit of the distant mountains opposite, and through this +dark-green mass the broad river ran like a silver ribbon gleaming in the +sunlight. + +Following the line of the trail, my eye fell upon that which has often +made men's hearts hard and lured them on to joyous death. There, above +the green tree-tops, in a clearing, stood a tall white mast and from the +peak, flaunting its lazy, proud defiance, flew a Union Jack. + +"Now, Ginger, how in the name of the Empire comes that brave rag to be +shaking itself out over these valleys!" + +Ginger knew not, but, in answer to my heels, set off at a canter down +the slope and, in a few minutes, we reached a grassy bench that +stretched down to the river-bank. On the bench was huddled an irregular +group of shacks and cabins and, in front of the first and most imposing +of them, stood the tall mast with its floating flag. On the wide +platform that ran in front of this log cabin a man was sitting, smoking +a short bull-dog pipe. By his dress and style I saw at once that he had +served in Her Majesty's army. As I rode up under the flag I lifted my +cap, held it high and called out: "God save the Queen!" Instantly he was +on his feet and, coming to attention with a military salute, replied +with great fervor: "God bless her!" From that moment he took me to his +heart. + +That was my introduction to "Ould Michael," as everyone in the Valley +called him, and as he called himself. + +After his fifth glass, when he would become dignified, "Ould Michael" +would drop his brogue and speak of himself as "Sergeant McGrath, late of +Her Majesty's Ninety-third Highlanders," Irishman though he was. + +Though he had passed his sixtieth year, he was still erect and brisk +enough in his movement, save for a slight hitch in his left leg. "A +touch of a knife," he explained, "in the Skoonder Bag." + +"The where?" + +"Skoonder Bag, forninst the walls the Lucknow--to the left over, ye +understand." + +"I'm ashamed to say I don't," I answered, feeling that I was on the +track of a yarn. + +He looked at me pityingly. + +"Ye've heard av Sir Colin?" He was not going to take anything for +granted. + +I replied hastily: "Sir Colin Campbell, of course." + +"Well, we was followin' Sir Colin up to the belagured city when we run +into the Skoonder Bag--big stone walls and windys high up, and full av +min, like a jail, or a big disthillery." + +Then, like a dream from the past, it came to me that he was talking of +that bloody fight about and in the "Secunderabogh," where, through a +breach two feet square, the men of the Ninety-third, man by man, forced +their way in the face of a thousand Sepoys, mad for blood and, with +their bayonets, piled high in gory heaps the bodies of their black foes, +crying with every thrust, in voices hoarse with rage and dust, +"Cawnpore! Cawnpore!" That tale Ould Michael would never tell till his +cups had carried him far beyond the stage of dignity and reserve. + +After he had helped me to picket my ponies and pitch my tent, he led me +by a little gate through his garden to the side door of the cabin. + +The garden was trim, like Ould Michael himself, set out in rectangular +beds, by gravel-walks and low-cut hedges of "old man." It was filled +with all the dear old-fashioned flowers--Sweet William and Sweet Mary, +bachelor's buttons, pansies and mignonette, old country daisies and +snapdragons and lilies of the valley and, in the centre of the beds, +great masses of peonies, while all around, peeping from under the +hedges of old man, were poppies of every hue. Beyond the garden there +was a plot of potatoes, cabbage and other vegetables and, best of all +and more beautiful than all, over the whole front of the cabin, +completely hiding the rough logs, ran a climbing rose, a mass of +fragrant bloom. Ould Michael lingered lovingly for a moment among his +flowers, and then led me into the house. + +The room into which we entered was a wonder for preciseness and order. +The walls were decorated with prints, much-faded photographs, stuffed +birds, heads of deer and a quaint collection of old-fashioned guns, +pistols and bayonets, but all arranged with an exactness and taste that +would drive mad the modern artistic decorator. On one side of the window +hung a picture of Wellington: on the other, that of Sir Colin. To the +right of the clock, on a shelf, stood a stuffed mallard; to the left on +a similar shelf, stood a stuffed owl. The same balance was diligently +preserved in the arrangement of his weapons of war. A pine table stood +against one wall, flanked by a home-made chair on either side. A door +opened to the left into a bedroom, as I supposed; another, to the right, +into what Ould Michael designated "My office, sir." + +"Office?" I inquired. + +"Yes, sir," still preserving his manual of ceremony, "Her Majesty's mail +for Grand Bend." + +"And you are the Postmaster?" I said, throwing into my voice the respect +and awe that I felt were expected. + +"That same," with a salute. + +"That explains the flag, then; you are bound to keep that flying, I +suppose." + +"Bound, sir? Yes, but by no law is it." + +"How, then?" + +"For twenty-five years I marched and fought under that same flag," said +the old soldier, dropping into his brogue, "and under it, plaze God, +I'll die." + +I looked at the old man. In his large dark-blue eyes shone that "fire +that never slumbers"--the fire of loyal valor, with its strange power to +transform common clay into men of heroic mould. The flag, the garden, +the postoffice--these were Ould Michael's household gods. The equipment +of the postoffice was primitive enough. + +"Where are the boxes?" I inquired; "the letter-boxes, you know; to put +the letters into." + +"An' what wud I do puttin' them into boxes, at all?" + +"Why, to distribute the mail so that you could find every man's letter +when he calls for it." + +"An' what would I be doin' findin' a man's letter for him? Shure an' +can't he find it himself on the counter there?" pointing to a wide plank +that ran along the wall. + +I explained fully the ordinary system of distributing mail to him. + +"Indade, 'tis a complicated system intoirely," and then he proceeded to +explain his own, which he described as "simple and unpretenshus" and, +sure enough, it was; for the letters were strewn upon the top of the +counter, the papers and other mail-matter thrown underneath, and every +man helped himself to his own. + +"But might there not be mistakes?" I suggested. "A man might take his +neighbor's letter." + +"An' what would he do wid another man's letter forby the discooshun that +might enshoo?" + +I was very soon to have an opportunity of observing the working of Ould +Michael's system, for next day was mailday and, in the early afternoon, +men began to arrive from the neighboring valleys for their monthly mail. +Ould Michael introduced me to them all with much ceremony and I could +easily see that he was a personage of importance among them. Not only +was he, as postmaster, the representative among them of Her Majesty's +Government, but they were proud of him as standing for all that was +heroic in the Empire's history; for a man who had touched shoulders with +those who had fought their way under India's fierce suns and through +India's swamps and jungles, from Calcutta to Lucknow and back, was no +common citizen, but a man who trailed glory in his wake. More than this, +Ould Michael was a friend to all, and they loved him for his simple, +generous heart. Too generous, as it turned out, for every month it was +his custom to summon his friends to Paddy Dougan's bar and spend the +greater part of the monthly remittance that came in his letter from +home. That monthly letter should be placed in the category of household +gods with the flag, the garden and the postoffice. Its arrival was +always an occasion for celebration--not for the remittance it contained, +but for the wealth of love and tender memory it brought to Ould Michael +in this far-off land. + +Late in the afternoon, just before the arrival of the mail-stage, there +rode up the bench towards the postoffice a man remarkable even in that +company of remarkable men. He was tall--a good deal over six +feet--spare, bony, with huge hands and feet and evidently possessed of +immense strength. His face and head were covered with a mass of shaggy +hair--brick-red mixed with grey--and out of this mass of grizzled hair +gleamed two small grey eyes, very bright and very keen. + +"Howly mither av Moses!" shouted Ould Michael rushing towards him; "'tis +McFarquhar. My friend, Mr. McFarquhar," said Ould Michael, presenting me +in his most ceremonious style and standing at attention. + +McFarquhar took my hand in his paw and gave me a grasp so cordial that, +were it not for the shame of it, I would have roared out in agony. + +"I am proud to make the acquaintance of you," he said, with a strong +highland accent. "You will be a stranger in these parts?" + +I told him as much of my history and affairs as I thought necessary and +drew from him as much information about himself and his life as I could, +which was not much. He had come to the country a lad of twenty to take +service under the Hudson Bay Company. Fifteen years ago had left the +Company and had settled in the valley of Grizzly Creek, which empties +into the Fraser a little below the Grand Bend. I found out too, but not +from himself, that he had married an Indian woman and that, with her and +his two boys, he lived the half-savage life of a hunter and rancher. He +was famous as a hunter of the grizzly bears that once frequented his +valley and, indeed, he bore the name of "Grizzly McFarquhar" among the +old-timers. + +He was Ould Michael's dearest friend. Many a long hunt had they taken +together, and over and over again did they owe their lives to each +other. But the hour had now come for the performance of Ould Michael's +monthly duty. The opening of the mail was a solemn proceeding. The bag +was carried in from the stage by Ould Michael, followed by the entire +crowd in a kind of triumphal procession, and reverently deposited upon +the counter. The key was taken down from its hook above the window, +inserted into the lock, turned with a flourish and then hung up in its +place. From his pocket Ould Michael then took a clasp-knife with a +wicked-looking, curved blade, which he laid beside the bag. He then +placed a pair of spectacles on his nose and, in an impressive manner and +amidst dead silence, opened the bag, poured out its contents upon the +counter, turned it inside out and carefully shook it. No one in the +crowd moved. With due deliberation Ould Michael, with the wicked-looking +clasp knife, proceeded to cut the strings binding the various bundles of +letters and papers. The papers were then deposited beneath the counter +upon the floor, and the letters spread out upon the counter. The last +act of the ceremony was the selecting by Ould Michael of his own letter +from the pile, after which, with a waive of the hand, he declared, +"Gentlemen, the mail is open," when they flung themselves upon it with +an eagerness that told of the heart-hunger for news from a far-country +that is like cool water to the thirsty soul. + +The half-hour that followed the distribution of the mail offered a scene +strange and touching. The men who had received letters stood away from +the crowd and read them with varying expressions of delight or grief, or +in silence that spoke more deeply than could any words. For that +half-hour the lonely valleys in these deep forests stood back from them, +and there opened up a vision of homes far away, filled with faces and +echoing with voices that some of them knew they would never see nor hear +again. + +But no man ever saw Ould Michael read his letter. That half-hour he +spent in his inner room and, when he came out, there was lingering about +his face a glory as of a departing vision. The dark-blue eyes were +darker than before and in them that soft, abstracted look that one sees +in the eye of a child just awakened from sleep. His tongue, so ready at +other times, would be silent; and he would move softly over to his +friend McFarquhar, and stand there as in a dream. As he came toward us +on this occasion, McFarquhar said, in an undertone: "It is good news +to-day with Ould Michael," adding in answer to my look of inquiry, "His +sister has charge of his little girl at home." + +Ould Michael steed in silence beside his friend for some moments. + +"All well, Michael?" asked McFarquhar. + +"They are, that," answered the old soldier, with a happy sigh. "Och, +'tis the lovely land it is, and it's ha-ard to kape away from it." + +"I am thinking you are better away from it than in it," said McFarquhar, +dryly. + +"Indade, an' it's thrue for you," answered Ould Michael, "but the longer +y're from it the more ye love it, an' it's God bless Ould Oireland siz +I," and he bore us off to celebrate. + +It was useless for me to protest. His duty for the month was over; he +was a free man. He had had his good news; and why should he not +celebrate? Besides, he had money in his pocket, and "what would the byes +think av me if I neglected to set 'em up?" And set 'em up he did for +"the byes" and for himself, till I heard McFarquhar taking him to his +cabin to put him to bed long after I had turned in. All through the +following Sunday Ould Michael continued his celebration, with the +hearty and uproarious assistance of the rest of the men and most of them +remained over night for Ould Michael's Sunday spree, which they were +sure would follow. + +How completely Paddy Dougan's whisky, most of which he made on his back +premises, changed Ould Michael and the whole company! From being solemn, +silent, alert and generally good-natured, they became wildly vociferous, +reckless, boastful and quarrelsome. That Sunday, as always happens in +the Mountains, where there are plenty of whisky and a crowd of men, was +utterly horrible. The men went wild in all sorts of hideous horseplay, +brawls and general debauchery, and among them Ould Michael reigned a +king. + +"It is bad whisky," McFarquhar exclaimed. McFarquhar himself was never +known to get drunk, for he knew his limit on good whisky, and he avoided +bad. Paddy Dougan knew better than to give him any of his own home-made +brew, for if, after his fourth, McFarquhar found himself growing +incapable, knowing that he could enjoy his sixth and even carry with +comfort his ninth, then his rage blazed forth, and the only safety for +Paddy lay in escape to the woods. It was not so much that he despised +the weakness of getting drunk, but he resented the fraud that deprived +him of the pleasure of leisurely pursuing his way to his proper limit. + +"It is the _bad_ whisky," repeated McFarquhar "and Ould Michael ought to +know better than fill himself up with such deplorable stuff." + +"Too bad!" I said. + +"Ay, but I'll jist take him away with me to-morrow and he'll come to in +a few days." + +I knew enough of the life in these valleys not to be hard with Ould +Michael and his friends. The slow monotony of the long, lonely weeks +made any break welcome, and the only break open to them was that +afforded by Paddy Dougan's best home-made, a single glass of which would +drive a man far on to madness. A new book, a fresh face, a social +gathering, a Sabbath service--how much one or all of these might do for +them! + +With difficulty I escaped from Ould Michael's hospitality and, leaving +the scenes of beastly debauchery behind, betook myself to the woods and +river. Here, on the lower bench, the woods became an open glade with +only the big trees remaining. + +I threw myself down on the river-bank and gave myself up to the gracious +influences that stole in upon, me from trees and air and grass and the +flowing river. The Sabbath feeling began to grow upon me, as the pines +behind and the river in front sang to each other soft, crooning songs. +As I lay and listened to the solemn music of the great, swaying pines +and the soft, full melody of the big river, my heart went back to my +boyhood days when I used to see the people gather in the woods for the +"Communion." There was the same soothing quiet over all, the same soft, +crooning music and, over all, the same sense of a Presence. In my +dreaming, ever and again there kept coming to me the face of Ould +Michael, with the look that it bore after reading his home-letter, and I +thought how different would his Sabbath day have been had his sister and +his little one been near to stand between him and the dreariness and +loneliness of his life. + +True to his promise, McFarquhar carried off Ould Michael to his ranch up +Grizzly Creek. Before the sun was high McFarquhar had his own and +Michael's pony ready at the door and, however unwilling Ould Michael +might be, there was nothing for it but march. As they rode off Ould +Michael took off his hat under the flag and called out: + +"God save Her Majesty!" + +"God bless her!" I echoed heartily. + +At once the old soldier clambered down and, tearing open his coat, +pulled out a flask. + +"Mr. McFarquhar," he said, solemnly, "it would be unbecoming in us to +separate from our friend without duly honoring Her Gracious Majesty's +name." Then, raising high the flask, he called out with great ceremony, +and dropping his brogue entirely: "Gentlemen, I give you the Queen, God +bless her!" He raised the flask to his lips and took a long pull and +passed it to me. After we had duly honored the toast, Ould Michael once +more struck an impressive attitude and called out: "Gentlemen, Her +Majesty's loyal forces----" when McFarquhar reached for him and, taking +the flask out of his hand, said, gravely: + +"It is a very good toast, but we will postpone the rest till a more +suitable occasion." + +Ould Michael, however, was resolute. + +"It would ill become a British soldier to permit this toast to go +unhonored." + +"Will you come after this one is drunk?" asked McFarquhar. + +"I will that." + +"Very well," said McFarquhar, "I drink to the very good health of Her +Majesty's army," and, taking a short pull, he put the flask into his +pocket. + +Ould Michael gazed at him in amazed surprise and, after the full meaning +of the joke had dawned upon him, burst out into laughter. + +"Bedad, McFarquhar, it's the first joke ye iver made, but the less +fraquent they are the better I loike them." So saying, he mounted his +pony and, once more saluting me and then the flag, made off with his +friend. Every now and then, however, I could see him sway in his saddle +under the gusts of laughter at the excellence of McFarquhar's joke. + +That was the last I saw of Ould Michael for more than six months, but +often through that winter, as I worked my way to the Coast, I wondered +what the monthly mails were doing for the old man and whether to him and +to his friends of those secluded valleys any better relief from the +monotony of life had come than that offered by Paddy Dougan's back room. + +In early May I found myself once more with my canvas and photographic +apparatus approaching Grand Bend, but this time from the West. As I +reached the curve in the river where the trail leads to the first view +of the town I eagerly searched for Ould Michael's flag. There stood the +mast, sure enough, but there was no flag in sight. What had happened to +Ould Michael? While he lived his flag would fly. Had he left Grand Bend, +or had Paddy Dougan's stuff been too much for him? I was rather +surprised to find in my heart a keen anxiety for the old soldier. As I +hurried on I saw that Grand Bend had heard the sound of approaching +civilization and was waking up. Two or three saloons, a blacksmith's +shop, some tents and a new general store proclaimed a boom. As I +approached the store I saw a sign in big letters across the front, +"Jacob Wragge, General Store," and immediately over the door, in smaller +letters, "Postoffice." More puzzled than ever I flung my reins over the +hitching-post and went in. A number of men stood leaning against the +counter and piled-up boxes, none of whom I knew. + +"Is Ould Michael in?" I asked, forgetting for the moment his proper +name. + +"In where?" asked the man behind the counter. + +"The postoffice," I replied. "Doesn't he keep the postoffice?" + +"Not much," he answered, with an insolent laugh; "it's not much he could +keep, unless it's whisky." + +"Perhaps you can tell me where he is?" I asked, keeping my temper down, +for I longed to reach for his throat. + +"You'll find him boozing in one of the saloons, like enough, the old +sot." + +I walked out without further word, for the longing for his throat grew +almost more than I could bear, and went across to Paddy Dougan's. Paddy +expressed great delight at seeing me again and, on my asking for Ould +Michael, became the picture of woe. + +Four months ago the postoffice had been taken from Ould Michael and set +up in Jacob Wragge's store, and with the old soldier things had gone +badly ever since. + +"The truth is, an' I'll not desave you," said Paddy, adopting a +confidential undertone, "he's drinkin' too much and he is." + +"And where is he? And where's his flag?" + +"His flag is it?" Paddy shook his head as if to say, "Now you _have_ +touched the sore spot. Shure, an' didn't he haul down the flag the day +they took the affice frum him." + +"And has he never put it up again?" + +"Niver a bit av it, Man dear," and Paddy walked out with me in great +excitement. + +"Do you know he niver heard a word till the stage druv be his dure with +the mail-bag an' the tap av it an' left the ould man standin' there +alone. Man, do you know, you wud ha' cried, so you wud, at the look av +him; and then he walked over to the flag and hauled it down an' flung it +inside the affice, an' there it's yit; an' niver a joke out av him +since." + +"And what is McFarquhar doing all the time?" + +"Shure he's off on his spring hunt this three months; an' he thried to +get Ould Michael to go along wid him, but niver a bit wud he; but I +heard he'll be in to-day and, bedad, there he is!" + +Sure enough there was McFarquhar, riding toward us. He gave me a warm +welcome back and then fell into talking of Ould Michael. He had only +seen him once after the loss of his position, but he feared things were +going badly with him. I told him all that Paddy had given me as we +searched the saloons. Ould Michael was not to be seen. + +"He will be at home very likely," said McFarquhar. "We will jist put a +stop to this kind of work." + +McFarquhar was torn between grief over his friend's trouble and +indignation at his weakness and folly. We rode up to Ould Michael's +cabin. The "office" door was locked and the windows boarded up. In the +garden all was a wild tangle of flowers and weeds. Nature was bravely +doing her best, but she missed the friendly hand that in the past had +directed her energies. The climbing rose covered with opening buds was +here and there torn from the bare logs. + +"Man, man!" cried McFarquhar, "this is a terrible change whatever." + +We knocked at the side door and waited, but there was no answer. I +pushed the door open and there, in the midst of disorder and dirt, sat +Ould Michael. I could hardly believe it possible that in so short a time +so great a change could come to a man. His hair hung in long grey locks +about his ears, his face was unshaven, his dress dirty and slovenly and +his whole appearance and attitude suggested ruin and despair. But the +outward wreck was evidently only an index to the wreck of soul, that had +gone on. Out of the dark-blue eyes there shone no inner light. The +bright, brave, cheery old soldier was gone, and in his place the figure +of disorder and despair. He looked up at our entering, then turned from +us, shrinking, and put his hands to his face, swaying to and fro and +groaning deeply. + +McFarquhar had come prepared to adopt strong measures, but the sight of +Ould Michael, besotted and broken, was more than he could stand. + +"Michael, man!" he cried, amazement and grief in his voice. "Aw, +Michael, man! What's this? What's this?" + +He went to him and laid his big bony hand on Ould Michael's shoulder. At +his words and touch the old man broke into sobbing, terrible to see. + +"Whisht, man," said McFarquhar, as he might to a child, "whist, whist, +lad! It will be well with you yet." + +But Ould Michael could not be comforted, but sobbed on and on. A man's +weeping has something terrible in it, but an old man's tears are hardest +of all to bear. McFarquhar stood helpless for some moments; then, taking +Ould Michael by the arm, he said: + +"Come out of this, anyway! Come out!" + +But it was long before Ould Michael would talk. He sat in silence while +his friend discoursed to him about the folly of allowing Paddy to +deceive him with bad whisky. Surely any man could tell the bad from the +good. + +"It is deplorable stuff altogether, and it will not be good for Paddy +when I see him." + +"Och!" burst out Ould Michael at last, "it is not the whisky at all, at +all." + +"Ay, that is a great part of it, whatever." + +"Och! me hea-art is broke, me hea-art is broke," groaned Ould Michael. + +"Hoots, man! is it for the p'stoffice? That was not much worth to any +man." + +But Ould Michael only shook his head. It was hopeless to try to make +such a man appreciate his feelings. McFarquhar rambled on, making light +of the whole affair. The loss could only be very trifling. A man could +make much more out of anything else. Poor Ould Michael bore it as long +as he could and then, rising to his feet, cried out: + +"Howly mither av Moses! an' have ye no hea-art inside av ye at all, at +all? 'Tis not the money; the money is dirt!" + +Here McFarquhar strongly dissented. Ould Michael heeded him not, but +poured out his bitterness and grief. "For twinty years and more did I +folly the flag in all lands and in all climates, wid wounds all over me +body, an' medals an' good conduct sthripes an'--an' all that; an' now, +wid niver a word av complaint or explanashun, to be turned aff like a +dog an' worse." + +Then the matter-of-fact McFarquhar, unable to understand these +sentimental considerations, but secretly delighted that he had got Ould +Michael to unbosom himself, began to draw him. + +"Not twenty years, Michael." + +"Twenty-foive years it is, an' more, I'm tellin' ye," replied Ould +Michael, "an' niver wance did the inimy see the back av me coat or the +dust av me heels; an' to think----" + +"How long was it, then, you were with Sir Colin?" continued McFarquhar, +cunningly. + +"Wid Sir Colin? Shure an' didn't I stay wid him all the way from +Calcutta to Lucknow an' back? An' didn't I give thim faithful sarvice +here for twelve years--the first man that iver handled the mail in the +valley? An' here I am, like--like--any common man." + +These were the sore spots in his heart. He was shamed before the people +of the valleys in whose presence he had stood forth as the +representative of a grateful sovereign. His Queen and his country--his +glory and pride for all these years--had forgotten him and his years of +service and had cast him aside as worthless; and now he was degraded to +the ranks of a mere private citizen! No wonder he had hauled down his +flag and then, having no interest in life, nothing was left him but +Paddy Dougan and the relief of his bad whisky.--Against Jacob Wragge, +too, who had supplanted him, his rage burned. He would have his heart's +blood yet. + +McFarquhar, as he listened, began to realize how deep was the wound his +old friend had suffered; but all he could say was, "You will come out +with me Michael, and a few weeks out with the dogs will put you right," +but Ould Michael was immovable and McFarquhar, bidding me care for him +and promising to return next week, rode off much depressed. Before the +week was over, however, he was back again with great news and in a +state of exaltation. + +"The minister is coming," he announced. + +"Minister?" + +"Ay, he has been with me. The Rev. John Macleod" (or as he made it, +"Magleod") "from Inverness--and he is the grand man! He has the gift." + +I remembered that he was a highlander and knew well what he meant. + +"Yes, yes," he continued with his strongest accent, "he has been with +me, and very faithfully has he dealt with me. Oh! he is the man of God, +and I hev not heard the likes of him for forty years and more." + +I listened with wonder, as McFarquhar described the visit of the Rev. +John Macleod to his home. I could easily imagine the close dealing +between the minister and McFarquhar, who would give him all reverence +and submission, but when I imagined the highland minister dealing +faithfully with the Indian wife and mother and her boys I failed +utterly. + +"He could not make much of her," meaning his wife, "and the lads," said +McFarquhar sadly, "but there it was that he came very close to myself; +and indeed--indeed--my sins have found me out." + +"What did is say to you? What sins of yours did he discover?" I asked, +for McFarquhar was the most respectable man in all the valley. + +"Oh did he not ask me about my family altar and my duties to my wife and +children?" + +There was no manner of doubt but Mr. Macleod had done some searching in +McFarquhar's heart and had brought him under "deep conviction," as he +said himself. And McFarquhar had great faith that the minister would do +the same for Ould Michael and was indignant when I expressed my doubts. + +"Man aliou" (alive), he cried, "he will make his fery bones to quake." + +"I don't know that that will help him much," I replied. But McFarquhar +only looked at me and shook his head pityingly. + +On Saturday, sure enough, McFarquhar arrived with the minister, and a +service for the day following was duly announced. We took care that Ould +Michael should be in fit condition to be profited by the Rev. John +Macleod's discourse. The service was held in the blacksmith's shop, the +largest building available. The minister was a big, dark man with a +massive head and a great, rolling voice which he used with tremendous +effect in all the parts of his service. The psalm he sang mostly alone, +which appeared to trouble him not at all. The scripture lesson he read +with a rhythmic, solemn cadence that may have broken every rule of +elocution, but was nevertheless most impressive. His prayer, during +which McFarquhar stood, while all the rest sat, was a most extraordinary +production. In a most leisurely fashion it pursued its course through a +whole system of theology, with careful explanation at critical places, +lest there should be any mistaking of his position. Then it proceeded to +deal with all classes and condition of men, from the Queen downward. As +to McFarquhar, it was easy to see from his face that the prayer was only +another proof that the minister had "the gift," but to the others, who +had never had McFarquhar's privilege, it was only a marvelous, though +impressive performance. Before he closed, however, he remembered the +people before him and, in simple, strong, heart-reaching words, he +prayed for their salvation. + +"Why, in Heaven's name," I said afterwards to McFarquhar, "didn't he +begin his prayer where he ended? Does he think the Almighty isn't posted +in theology?" But McFarquhar would only reply: "Ay, it was grand? He has +the gift!" + +The sermon was, as McFarquhar said, "terrible powerful." The text I +forget, but it gave the opportunity for an elaborate proof of the +universal depravity of the race and of their consequent condemnation. He +had no great difficulty in establishing the first position to the +satisfaction of his audience, and the effect produced was +correspondingly slight; but when he came to describe the meaning and the +consequences of condemnation, he grew terrible, indeed. His pictures +were lurid in the extreme. No man before him but was greatly stirred up. +Some began to move uneasily in their seats; some tried to assume +indifference; some were openly enraged; but none shared McFarquhar's +visible and solemn delight. Ould Michael's face showed nothing; but, +after all was over, in answer to McFarquhar's enthusiastic exclamation +he finally grunted out: + +"A great sermon, is it? P'raps it was and p'raps it wasn't. It took him +a long time to tell a man what he knew before." + +"And what might that be?" asked McFarquhar. + +"That he was goin' fast to the Divil." + +This McFarquhar could not deny and so he fell into disappointed silence. +He began to fear that the minister might possibly fail with Ould +Michael, after all. I frankly acknowledged the same fear and tried to +make him see that for men like Ould Michael, and the rest, preaching of +that kind could do little good. With this position McFarquhar warmly +disagreed, but as the week went by he had to confess that on Ould +Michael the minister had no effect at all, for he kept out of his way +and demoted himself to Paddy Dougan as far as we would allow him. + +Then McFarquhar began to despair and to realize how desperate is the +business of saving a man fairly on the way to destruction. But help came +to us--"a mysterious dispensation of Providence," McFarquhar called it. +It happened on the Queen's birthday, when Grand Bend, in excess of loyal +fervor, was doing its best to get speedily and utterly drunk. In other +days Ould Michael had gloried beyond all in the display of loyal spirit; +but to-day he sat, dark and scowling, in Paddy Dougan's barroom. +McFarquhar and I were standing outside the door keeping an eye, but not +too apparently, upon Ould Michael's drinking. + +A big German from the tie-camps, who had lived some years across the +border, and not to his advantage, was holding forth in favor of liberty +and against all tyrannous governments. As Paddy's whisky began to tell +the German became specially abusive against Great Britain and the +Queen. Protests came from all sides, till, losing his temper, the +German gave utterance to a foul slander against Her Majesty's private +life. In an instant Ould Michael was on his feet and at the bar. + +"Dhrink all around!" he cried. The glares were filled and all stood +waiting. "Gentlemen," said Ould Michael, in his best manner; "I give you +Her Gracious Majesty the Queen, God bless her!" With wild yells the +glasses were lifted high and the toast drunk with three times three. The +German, meantime, stood with his glass untouched. When the cheers were +over he said, with a sneer: + +"Shentlemen, fill ub!" The order was obeyed with alacrity. + +"I gif you, 'our noble selfs,' and for de Queen" (using a vile epithet), +"she can look after her ownself." Quick as thought Ould Michael raised +his glass and flung its contents into the German's face, saying, as he +did so: "God save the Queen!" With a roar the German was at him, and +before a hand could be raised to prevent it, Ould Michael was struck to +the floor and most brutally kicked. By this time McFarquhar had tossed +back the crowd right and left and, stooping down, lifted Ould Michael +and carried him out into the air, saying in a husky voice: + +"He is dead! He is dead!" + +But in a moment the old man opened his eyes and said faintly: + +"Niver a bit av it, God save----" + +His eyes closed again and he became unconscious. They gave him brandy +and he began to revive. Then McFarquhar rose and looked round for the +German. His hair was fairly bristling round his head; his breath came in +short gasps and his little eyes were blood-shot with fury. + +"You have smitten an old man and helpless," he panted, "and you ought to +be destroyed from the face of the earth; but I will not smite you as I +would a man, but as I would a wasp." + +He swung his long arm like a flail and, with his open hand, smote the +German on the side of the head. It was a terrific blow; under it the +German fell to the earth with a thud. McFarquhar waited a few moments +while the German rose, slowly spitting out broken teeth and blood. + +"Will you now behave yourself," said McFarquhar, moving toward him. + +"Yes, yes, it is enough," said his antagonist hurriedly and went into +the saloon. + +We carried Ould Michael to his cabin and laid him on his bed. He was +suffering dreadfully from some inward wound, but he uttered not a word +of complaint. After he had lain still for some time he looked at +McFarquhar. + +"What is it, lad?" asked McFarquhar. + +"The flag," whispered poor Ould Michael. + +"The flag? Do you want the flag?" + +He shook his head slowly, still looking beseechingly at his friend. All +at once it came to me. + +"You want the flag hauled up, Michael?" I said. + +He smiled and eagerly looked towards me. + +"I'll run it up at once," I said. + +He moved his hand. I came to him and bending over him caught the words +"God save----" + +"All right," I answered, "I shall give it all honor." + +He smiled again, closed his eyes and a look of great peace came upon his +face. His quarrel with his Queen and country was made up and all the +bitterness was gone from his heart. After an examination as full as I +could make, I came to the conclusion that there were three ribs broken +and an injury, more or less serious, to the lungs; but how serious, I +could not tell. McFarquhar established himself in Ould Michael's cabin +and nursed him day and night. He was very anxious that the minister +should see Ould Michael and, when the day came for Mr. Macleod's service +in Grand Bend, I brought him to Ould Michael's cabin, giving him the +whole story on the way. His highland loyalty was stirred. + +"Noble fellow," he said, warmly, "it is a pity he is a Romanist; a sore +pity." + +His visit to Ould Michael was not a success. Even McFarquhar had to +confess that somehow his expounding of the way of salvation to Ould +Michael and his prayers, fervent though they were, did not appeal to the +old soldier; the matter confused and worried him. But however much he +failed with Ould Michael there was no manner of doubt that he was +succeeding with McFarquhar. Long and earnest were their talks and, after +every "season," McFarquhar came forth more deeply impressed with the +grand powers of the minister. He Had already established the "family +altar" in his home and was making some slow progress in instructing his +wife and children in "the doctrine of grace," but as Ould Michael began +to grow stronger, McFarquhar's anxiety about _his state_ grew deeper. +Again and again he had the minister in to him, but Ould Michael remained +unmoved; indeed, he could hardly see what the minister would be at. + +One evening as we three were sitting in Ould Michael's main room, +McFarquhar ventured to express his surprise at Ould Michael's continued +"darkness" as he said: + +"My friend," said the minister, solemnly, "it has been given me that +you are the man to lead him into the light." + +"God pity me!" exclaimed McFarquhar. "That I could lead any man!" + +"And more," said the minister, in deepening tones, "it is borne in upon +me that his blood will be upon you." + +McFarquhar's look of horror and fear was pitiable and his voice rose in +an agony of appeal. + +"God be merciful to me! you will not be saying such a word as that." + +"Fear not," replied the minister, "he will be given to you for a jewel +in your crown." + +McFarquhar was deeply impressed. + +"How can this thing be?" he inquired in despair. + +"You are his friend!" The minister's voice rose and fell in solemn +rhythm. "You are strong; he is weak. You will need to put away from you +all that causeth your brother to offend, and so you will lead him into +the light." + +The minister's face was that of a man seeing visions and McFarquhar, +deeply moved, bowed his head and listened in silence. After a time he +said, hesitatingly: + +"And Ould Michael has his weakness and he will be drinking Paddy +Dougan's bad whisky; but if he would only keep to the Company's good +whisky----" + +"Man," interrupted the minister, simply, "don't you know it is the good +whisky that kills, for it is the good whisky that makes men love it." + +McFarquhar gazed at him in amazement. + +"The good whisky!" + +"Ay," said the minister, firmly, "and indeed there is no good whisky for +drinking." + +McFarquhar rose and from a small cupboard brought back a bottle of the +Hudson Bay Company's brand. "There," he said, pouring out a glass, "you +will not be saying there is no good whisky." + +The minister lifted the glass and smelled it. + +"Try it," said McFarquhar in triumph. + +The minister put it to his lips. + +"Ay," he said, "I know it well! It is the best, but it is also the +worst. For this men have lost their souls. There is no good whisky for +_drinking_, I'm saying." + +"And what for, then?" asked McFarquhar faintly. + +"Oh, it has its place as a medicine or a lotion." + +"A lotion," gasped McFarquhar. + +"Yes, in case of sprains--a sprained ankle, for instance." + +"A lotion!" gasped McFarquhar; "and would you be using the good whisky +to wash your feet with?" + +The minister smiled; but becoming immediately grave, he answered: "Mr. +McFarquhar, how long have you been in the habit of taking whisky?" + +"Fifty years," said McFarquhar promptly. + +"And how many times have you given the bottle to your friend?" + +"Indeed, I cannot say," said McFarquhar; "but it has never hurt him +whatever." + +"Wait a bit. Do you think that perhaps if Michael had never got the good +whisky from his good friends he might not now be where he is?" + +McFarquhar was silent. The minister rose to go. + +"Mr. McFarquhar, the Lord has a word for you" (McFarquhar rose and stood +as he always stood in church), "and it is this: 'We, then, that are +strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please +ourselves.' It is not given to me to deliver Michael from the bondage of +death, but to you it is given, and of you He will demand, 'Where is +Abel, thy Brother?'" + +The minister's last words rolled forth like words of doom. + +"Man, it is terrible!" said McFarquhar to me as the minister disappeared +down the slope; but he never thought of rejecting the burden of +responsibility laid upon him. That he had helped Ould Michael down he +would hardly acknowledge, but the minister's message bore in upon him +heavily. "Where is Abel, thy brother?" he kept saying to himself. Then +he took up the bottle and, holding it up to the light, he said with +great deliberation: + +"There will be no more of you whatever!" + +From that time forth McFarquhar labored with Ould Michael with a +patience and a tact that amazed me. He did not try to instill theology +into the old man's mind, but he read to him constantly the gospel +stories and followed his reading with prayer--always in Gaelic, however, +for with this Ould Michael found no fault as to him it was no new thing +to hear prayers in a foreign tongue. But one day McFarquhar ventured a +step in advance. + +"Michael," he said timidly, "you will need to be prayin' for yourself." + +"Shure an' don't I inthrate the Blessed Virgin to be doin' that same for +me?" + +McFarquhar had learned to be very patient with his "Romish errors," so +he only replied: + +"Ay, but you must take words upon your own lips," he said, earnestly. + +"An' how can I, then, for niver a word do I know?" + +Then McFarquhar fell into great distress and looked at me imploringly. I +rose and went into the next room, closing the door behind me. Then, +though I tried to make a noise with the chairs, there rose the sound of +McFarquhar's voice; but not with the cadence of the Gaelic prayer. He +had no gift in the English language, he said; but evidently Ould Michael +thought otherwise, for he cared no more for Gaelic prayers. + +By degrees McFarquhar began to hope that Ould Michael would come to the +light, but there was a terrible lack in the old soldier of "conviction +of sin." One day, however, in his reading he came to the words, "the +Captain of our Salvation." + +"Captain, did ye say?" said Ould Michael. + +"Ay, Captain!" said McFarquhar, surprised at the old man's eager face. + +"And what's his rigimint?" + +Then McFarquhar, who had grown quick in following Ould Michael's +thoughts, read one by one all the words that picture the Christian life +as a warfare, ending up with that grand outburst of that noblest of +Christian soldiers, "I have fought the fight, I have kept the faith." +The splendid loyalty of it appealed to Ould Michael. + +"McFarquhar," he said with quivering voice, "I don't understand much +that ye've been sayin' to me, but if the war is still goin' on, an' if +he's afther recruits any more bedad it's mesilf wud like to join." + +McFarquhar was now at home; vividly he set before Ould Michael the +warfare appointed unto men against the world, the flesh and the Devil; +and then, with a quick turn, he said: + +"An' He is calling to all true men, 'Follow me!'" + +"An' wud He have the like av me?" asked Ould Michael, doubtfully. + +"Ay, that He would and set you some fightin'." + +"Then," said Ould Michael, "I'm wid Him." And no soldier in that warfare +ever donned the uniform with simpler faith or wore it with truer heart +than did Ould Michael. + +Meantime I had, through political friends, set things in motion at +Ottawa for the reinstating of Ould Michael in his position as postmaster +at Grand Bend, and this, backed up by a petition, which through +McFarquhar's efforts bore the name of every old-timer in the valleys, +brought about the desired end. So one bright day, when Ould Michael was +sunning himself on his porch, the stage drove up to his door and, as in +the old days, dropped the mail-bag. Ould Michael stood up and, waving +his hand to the driver, said: + +"Shure, ye've made a mistake; an' I'm not blamin' ye." + +"Not much," said the driver. "I always bring my mail to the postmaster." + +"Hurrah!" I sung out. "God save the Queen!" + +The little crowd that had gathered round took up my cheer. + +"What do ye mean, byes?" said Ould Michael, weakly. + +"It means," said McFarquhar, "that if you have the strength you must +look after your mail as the postmaster should." + +There was a joyous five minutes of congratulation; then the precession +formed as before and, led by Ould Michael, marched into the old cabin. +With trembling fingers Ould Michael cut the strings and selected his +letter-- + +"But there'll be no more celebration, byes," he said, nor was there. + + +[Transcriber's Notes: + +Standardized punctuation. +Left one instance of clasp-knife and one of clasp knife. +Page 10: Changed tell to tall. +Page 29: Changed extarordinary to extraordinary.] + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Michael McGrath, Postmaster, by Ralph Connor + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MICHAEL MCGRATH, POSTMASTER *** + +***** This file should be named 19257.txt or 19257.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/5/19257/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Joseph R. 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