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4 (464) THE]
Family F
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TRUSTING.
On billows dashing high I will not fear,
The pilot by my side my trembling bark will steer.
When rough winds blow and foams the treacherous
sea,
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x b.uuw my v,apiam s loving care will shelter me.
When earthly kingdoms fall 1 will not fear,
My Lord Is King of kings and He is Lord of all;
He reigns above, and worlds His will obey.
I know His call the waiting nations soon will hear.
When fiercest battles rage I will not fear;
No sword shall pierce the heart of soldier there,
Our Captain calls, and we must not delay;
I know the bugle calls, we must obey.
If sorrows come, or loss, we need not fear;
Our Father knows, and He our griefs will share.
If joy be ours and peace and love abound,
We know our Captain leading on is ever near.
Atlanta, Ga.
THE COUNTRY POSTMAN.
Ilis name was Andrew llowden, familiarly
"Andra" in Leerielaw, where he had carried
the bag for over thirty years.
"What Andra doesna ken nhnnt fnlk " T,5o.
beth Gow, of the Craw's Inn, would say, "that
same's no worth kennin'."
He was a small, weary-faced person, with a
slight hitch of the left shoulder and an impediment
in his speech, which, when he was excited,
was apt to render him almost unintelligible.
But usually he was of a placid temperament,
and the neighbors to do him justice, knowing
his weakness, refrained from working upon it.
He had so many good qualities, and was so
faithful a servant of the public, that he was
highly respected. He stood much upon his official
dignity, with which he permitted no liberties
to be taken.
The bag and its contents were sacred to him,
and he would not deliver letters out of their
due course, or to any "orra" person, no matter
who the applicant might be.
"Na, na, Laird," he observed pawkily one
day, meeting that important personage driving
toward the station; "I'm due to leave Drumcleugh
letters at Drumcleugh this side o' eleeven
o'clock an' they shall be there then. My orders
frae the Depairtment are explicit. I canna misregaird
them, even for you, Laird."
The Laird, being a good-natured man and
quick to grasp a point of humor, merely guffawed
and drove on.
But others, less tolerant and more fiery, would
fall upon Andrew with unparliamentary lan
cruacre. and threaten him with all snrts nf na#wo
Andrew, however, secure in the knowledge
that he was backed by the "Depairtment" pursued
the even tenor of his way, as if his persecutors
were so many insects to be swept from
his path. He was inordinately curious himself,
and made no secret of the fact that he perused
all the post-cards before he passed them on to
their rightful owners. This he doubtless regarded
as one of the perquisites or privileges
of his position. He would forestall family happenings
in this wise:
" You'll ha'e Jennet on Seterday by the fower
o'clock train, Mrs. Anton. I daursay she comes
toddling hame frae the toon gey an' often."
Or, "Your guid sister's laid by wi' the jaunA
T* K. ? i?:*i rri it--x i
uiw;, nico, ,A u a ;uui uuuirr x mil lUHl I1H8 written
himself. He has a better hand o' write than
you, Alec, but a guid smith should never be a
penman."
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE S<
headings
Leerielaw took all this in good part, because
they knew right well that Andrew would never
hi tray any of their innocent secrets or family
tit-bits to the general public. He was not given
to clashes, but was as secret as the grave.
Post cards Andrew despised and abhorra: He
1 bought them hardly decent, and opaulv declared
that they cheated the "Dcpairtment"'
nnt cf his just dues They had added consid
erably to his labors, of course, which partly explained
his abhorrence?sometimes he would have
to walk an extra mile to deliver one that had
an address on the back of a "silly picter," which
nobody could be the better of seeing. For letters
Andrew had the deepest respect. He handled
them reverently, and was as careful of the
poorest and most obscure as of the crested envelopes
addressed to the Laird. That Andrew
could ever tamper with a letter was unthinkable,
nevertheless, great men have their unguarded
moments, and there was one episode in Andrew's
otherwise irreproachable career as a servant of
tne public which would not have borne strict
investigation. Also, once committed, it sorely
troubled his conscience until he laid it on the
shoulders of some one else.
It happened in the autumn of the year in
which Ann Carfrae died, after a long illness,
brought on through fretting about an absent
and ne'er-do-weel son. Leerielaw missed Ann
consumedly when she died; she was what they
called "everybody's body;" that is to say, she
was at the service of all who needed her sympathy,
her help or her care. Her own sorrows,
which had been many and bitter, had not soured
her. Now, though Andrew Howden was elderly
and ill-favored, and had never had his name
coupled with any woman's body in his life, he
was not incapable of romance. The whole romance
of liis life had circled round Ann Carfrac.
She, poor soul, never guessed it either, as maid,
wife or widow, but was kind and womanly, gentle
to the postman, as she was too gentle and
simple alike.
Many a crack they had over the garden gate,
where she would wait for him morning after
morning, expecting the letter that never came.
"Better luck next time, Andra," she would
say, after he had laboriously sorted out the contents
of his bag for her inspection, precisely as
if he had not been aware that it contained no
letter for her.
After she nnsspri ?w?v *a +V>h lon^ ...v.?1
J- i? > tv/ biiV 1ft.?vi WliCXC HiCI C
are no more tears, Andrew seemed unlike himself.
He became very grumpy in his manners,
and was "aff his meat," so that he became thinner
and more weary-looking than ever. Many
noticed the change, and even spoke of it to him;
but they got very little more than a grunt out
of Andrew.
One evening the minister was surprised by
a visit from him, and when he entered the study,
noticed with concern how ill he looked.
"Come in, Andrew. I am very glad to see
n L. - i i ?* -
yuu, ae saia Kinaiy. "l hope there isn't anything
wrong. Airs. Flemming was only saying
to me yesterday that you did not look like yourself."
"I'm weel enough in my body," replied Andrew,
darkly. "It's my mind that's no weel."
"Not a very uncommon occurrence, my man,"
observed the minister, cheerfully. "The best
of us have to suffer our ill days."
"Aye, ill days," repeated Andrew with dour
emphasis. "Dt^ys when the deevil winna let us
m
) U T H [April 24, 1912
al&ne, but harasses us like a roarin' lion, seekin'
whom he may devour."
Struck by the ferocity of the postman's words,
the minister regarded him with a mild astonishment.
Had he not been perfectly certain that
Andrew was a teetotaller, he might have had his
doubts.
"But I'm to get the better o' him this verra
hicht," pursued Andrew, grimly. "Him an'
me's to come to grips, an' I'll begin by makin'
a clean breast o't, and cyne daur him to dae his
worst."
"Won't you sit down?' inquired the minister,
with a perplexed note in his pleasant voice.
"You look desperately uncomfortable."
"As a man wi' a load o' guilt on his soul
should look, Maister Flemin'. I pit it to ye, has
a black sinner ony richt to be comfortable?"
"What is the meaning of all this, Andrew?
Have you been getting into any kind of trouble ?
I should never believe it unless I heard it from
your own lips." ,
"Weel, I'm tellin' ye, if you'll only gie me
a chance. I'm a rogue an' a vaigabond, an'
T ? 1 ? ' ? * " -
x rc laivx uijoci upeu u> rne nanacuns an' tfte
gaol. I'm a forger, Maister Fleemin'."
"A forger, Andrew! Why, bless my soul!"
"Ay, a forger," repeated Andrew, firmly.
" Let me tell ye, an' dinna you speak a word or
I'm through. D'ye mind hoo Ann' Carfrae was
set on a letter frae Tarn in Austreely a long
while afore she deed?" ,
"Yes, of course. The joy it gave her when
it came at last was one of the most touching
things I have met with in my experience. They
buried it with her, poor soul?laid against her
heart. Disbeth Gow told me that. It was a very
touching thing; and when the lad hears of it,
it should surely make a better man of him."
Andrew groaned as if in anguish.
"It was me that wrote that letter, Maister
ti? ?x -
x tc&ium . x <1111 uevex put pen io paper on it.
I wrate every word o' it mysel', an' a stamp off
an auld Austreelian letter at Meggot's postoffice.
I clipped it out, and pasted it on the letter
for Ann. She never kent, an' I only did it,"
he added doggedly, "efter the doctor telt me
she couldna live mair nor two or three days."
The minister was silent a moment, regarding
in wonder Andrew's unlovely visage, all working
with the torrent of his emotions.
,4 What was the reason, Andrew?" he inquired,
and his pleasant voice had a very gentle note.,
'' I was driven to it, I tell ye I was!'' Andrewcried
fiercely. '' If ye had been me, and had had
to pass that yett every mornin' for seevin year,
an' see her face an' the hunger in her een, ye
raicht have dune it yoursel'. I'm gled I did it!
i wad dae it again if I had the chance! They
telt me she sleepit a' nicht for the first time for
weeks, an' that she deed happy. It was worth
it. But noo I canna rest. I'm willin to gie
mysel' up. "Will you write the Depairtment, an'
I'll set my name till the story. Of course, they'll
pey me aff; an' if it be the gaol forby, weel, I'm
ready." ,
The minister smiled a trifle unsteadily.
"Andrew, it was a Christian act! It made a
poor, dying woman happy. We can safely leave
judgment with him who trieth the reins and
searcheth the hearts of the children of men.
Make your peace with him. This thing need
never be known. We'll bury it deep today forever."
It was a long time before Andrew's heart
could be comforted or his conscience aoneased.
But at last he departed, a better and a happier
man. It was his first and last obsession.from
the pathway of righteousness, and his secret was
safe with the two kind hearts that held it. For
the minister-told the the story to his wife, and
as she listened her gentle eyes filled with tears.
?David Lyall, in British Weekly.
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