Forgotten Tales of Long Ago

by E. V. Lucas

Every boy ... joined in the pursuit, and every cottage poured out its matrons and children and dogs.—Page 163.

Before entering the village, Scourhill had to pass a mill. A child playing on the margin of the stream that supplied it with water fell in, and was floating toward the mill-wheel, when the youth, seeing its danger, rushed forward, and caught it by the clothes just as it was on the point of destruction. Several people witnessed the event, and the report that a child was carried into the mill-wheel flew through the village, and every mother came running to the place. The woman to whom the child belonged soon heard its name, and, pushing in a frantic manner through the crowd, she flew to it, and, taking it in her arms, cried, clasping it to her bosom, 'My child, my child!' She then silently gazed upon its face, apparently to see whether it was really alive, and, shedding tears, she exclaimed, 'Heaven be praised!'

After her mind became somewhat more composed, Scourhill was pointed out to her; she in a moment put the child out of her arms, and, hastily making up to the youth, she embraced him, and gratefully thanked him for rescuing her child.

Scourhill, as soon as the general attention was withdrawn from him, retired from the crowd, and went to the cottage of the tinker. He entered, and, finding the man at work, he took off his hat, and in an obliging manner apologized for his conduct. The tinker said, smiling: 'To be sure, you had a grand procession, but my ass is nothing the worse for it, and I freely forgive you.' The youth politely thanked him, and just as he was about to retire, he slipped a little money into the hand of the tinker's son.

The child, proud of its present, showed it to its father, who instantly threw down his tools and ran out of the house after the youth. The crowd were returning from the mill; Scourhill had to pass through it, and the matrons were not a little surprised to see the deliverer of the child pursued by the mender of kettles. The tinker soon overtook him, and, having thanked him for his polite and generous conduct, he turned about and satisfied the curiosity of those who surrounded him. Scourhill received much applause, and while he continued his course every eye pursued him in admiration.

Mr. Macadam wrote an account of the preceding adventures to Scourhill's father, and the old gentleman returned an answer, in which he says: 'Your letter rejoices my heart. Make my son Joseph a scholar, but, above all, make him an honest man. I know little about your Latin and Greek, as being things very much out of my way; but this I know—that a man, if his heart is right, can look a fellow-creature in the face; but without being an honest man, why, he had better not live.

'When your letter came to hand, I was sitting at dinner, after a most noble chase, in the midst of my friends, all men of the right sort, downright hearty good fellows. The cloth was removed, and we had just sung, Bright Phœbus had mounted his chariot of day, when my servant Jonathan came in with your letter.

'But you must know my servant. Jonathan is none of your flighty, bowing footmen that whip in upon you with the spring of a fox. No, Jonathan is better trained. He opens the door leisurely, and marches slowly to within four yards of my chair, and there he halts, his eye resting upon me. If the conversation is general, he comes forward, and delivers his message; but if I am telling one of my hunting stories, he must neither speak nor move till he receives my orders. Well, as I said, Jonathan came in with your letter. I was in the middle of one of my best stories, and, according to custom, he took his station. I came to a pause and looked at him. He made his bow, but I continued my story. I made a second pause, and again turned my eye toward him. He bowed. "I see you, Jonathan," said I, and went on with my story. At the third pause I took a few seconds to breathe. The honest fellow made one of his lowest bows. I said to him, "Come hither. A letter you have for me? Let me see it." (I know your handwriting.) "Carry it, honest Jonathan, to your mistress," said I; "for my story is not yet finished. It is from the worthy man, the Rector; it is about Joseph; return, and let me know whether the youngster continues to behave well."