Darrel of the Blessed Isles Part 4

then thou shalt say, 'I'll be kind to this man because he may be a friend;' an' love shall increase in thee, an' around thee, an'

bring happiness. Ah, boy! in the business o' the soul, men pay thee better than they owe. Kindness shall bring friendship, an'

friendship shall bring love, an' love shall bring happiness, an'

that, sor, that is the approval o' G.o.d. What speculation hath such profit? Hast thou learned to think?"

"I hope I have," said the boy.

"Prithee--think a thought for me. What is the first law o' life?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Thy pardon, boy," said the venerable tinker, filling a clay pipe and stretching himself on a lounge. "Thou art not long out o' thy clouts. It is, 'Thou shalt learn to think an' obey.' Consider how man and beast are bound by it. Very well--think thy way up. Hast thou any fear?"

The old man was feeling his gray hair, thoughtfully.

"Only the fear o' G.o.d," said the boy, after a moment of hesitation.

"Well, on me word, I am full sorry," said the tinker. "Though mind ye, boy, fear is an excellent good thing, an' has done a work in the world. But, hear me, a man had two horses the same age, size, shape, an' colour, an' one went for fear o' the whip, an' the other went as well without a whip in the wagon. Now, tell me, which was the better horse?"

"The one that needed no whip."

"Very well!" said the old man, with emphasis. "A man had two sons, an' one obeyed him for fear o' the whip, an' the other, because he loved his father, an' could not bear to grieve him. Tell me again, boy, which was the better son?"

"The one that loved him," said the boy.

"Very well! very well!" said the old man, loudly. "A man had two neighbours, an' one stole not his sheep for fear o' the law, an'

the other, sor, he stole them not, because he loved his neighbour.

Now which was the better man?"

"The man that loved him."

"Very well! very well! and again very well!" said the tinker, louder than before. "There were two kings, an' one was feared, an'

the other, he was beloved; which was the better king?"

"The one that was beloved."

"Very well! and three times again very well!" said the old man, warmly. "An' the good G.o.d is he not greater an' more to be loved than all kings? Fear, boy, that is the whip o' destiny driving the dumb herd. To all that fear I say 'tis well, have fear, but pray that love may conquer it. To all that love I say, fear only lest ye lose the great treasure. Love is the best thing, an' with too much fear it sickens. Always keep it with thee--a little is a goodly property an' its revenoo is happiness. Therefore, be happy, boy--try ever to be happy."

There was a moment of silence broken by the sound of a church bell.

"To thy prayers," said the clock tinker, rising, "an' I'll to mine.

Dine with me at five, good youth, an' all me retinoo--maids, warders, grooms, attendants--shall be at thy service."

"I'll be glad to come," said the boy, smiling at his odd host.

"An' see thou hast hunger."

"Good morning, Mr. ---- ?" the boy hesitated.

"Darrel--Roderick Darrel--" said the old man, "that's me name, sor, an' ye'll find me here at the Sign o' the Dial."

A wind came shrieking over the hills, and long before evening the little town lay dusky in a scud of snow mist. The old stairs were quivering in the storm as Trove climbed them.

"Welcome, good youth," said the clock tinker, shaking the boy's hand as he came in. "Ho there! me servitors. Let the feast be spread," he called in a loud voice, stepping quickly to the stove that held an upper deck of wood, whereon were dishes. "Right Hand bring the meat an' Left Hand the potatoes an' Quick Foot give us thy help here."

He suited his action to the words, placing a platter of ham and eggs in the centre of a small table and surrounding it with hot roast potatoes, a pot of tea, new biscuit, and a plate of honey.

"Ho! Wit an' Happiness, attend upon us here," said he, making ready to sit down.

Then, as if he had forgotten something, he hurried to the door and opened it.

"Care, thou skeleton, go hence, and thou, Poverty, go also, and see thou return not before c.o.c.k-crow," said he, imperatively.

"You have many servants," said Trove.

"An' how may one have a castle without servants? Forsooth, boy, horses an' hounds, an' lords an' ladies have to be attended to.

But the retinoo is that run down ye'd think me home a hospital.

Wit is a creeping dotard, and Happiness he is in poor health an'

can barely drag himself to me table, an' Hope is a tippler, an'

Right Hand is getting the palsy. Alack! me best servant left me a long time ago."

"And who was he?"

"Youth! lovely, beautiful Youth! but let us be happy. I would not have him back--foolish, inconstant Youth! dreaming dreams an'

seeing visions. G.o.d love ye, boy! what is thy dream?"

This rallying style of talk, in which the clock tinker indulged so freely, afforded his young friend no little amus.e.m.e.nt. His tongue had long obeyed the lilt of cla.s.sic diction; his thought came easy in Elizabethan phrase. The slight Celtic brogue served to enhance the piquancy of his talk. Moreover he was really a man of wit and imagination.

"Once," said the boy, after a little hesitation, "I thought I should try to be a statesman, but now I am sure I would rather write books."

"An' what kind o' books, pray?"

"Tales."

"An' thy merchandise be truth, capital!" exclaimed the tinker.

"Hast thou an ear for tales?"

"I'm very fond of them."

"Marry, I'll tell thee a true tale, not for thy ear only but for thy soul, an' some day, boy, 'twill give thee occupation for thy wits."

"I'd love to hear it," said the boy.

The pendulums were ever swinging like the legs of a procession trooping through the loft, some with quick steps, some with slow.

Now came a sound as of drums beating. It was for the hour of eight, and when it stopped the tinker began.

"Once upon a time," said he, as they rose from the table and the old man went for his pipe, "'twas long ago, an' I had then the rose o' youth upon me, a man was tempted o' the devil an' stole money--a large sum--an' made off with it. These hands o' mine used to serve him those days, an' I remember he was a man comely an' well set up, an', I think, he had honour an' a good heart in him."

The old man paused.