Donald Grant's development

Chapter I. The Home At Rivervale

S OME six miles inland from where the lower North River mingles its sweet brown flood with the salt blue tides of Bay view Harbor, in the Province of Acadia, two roads meet upon the western bank, and combining into one are carried by a long, gray wooden bridge across the placid stream and fertile interval to the farther side, where the way continues on up the rounded slope of the hill until it vanishes in the woods that crest the summit.

Just at the junction of the roads and commanding the parting ways, stands the settlement bearing the name, as appropriate as it is attractive, of Rivervale. It is not a large settlement. A general store, a carriage-maker’s shop, and a forge, with their attendant homes, barns, and outbuildings, constitute its centre, while scattered along the roads leading to it, at wide intervals, are the farm¬ houses, each in the midst of its own grounds, yet in a certain sense connected with the others. There are few more charming landscapes to be found in the Acadian prov¬ ince than the vicinage of Rivervale presents, and certainly

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

none of the houses in the settlement had a more delightful situation than that occupied by the dwelling of Grant, the carpenter, so designated in order to distinguish him from his neighbor, Grant, the blacksmith, of whom we shall speak more presently.

It was a white cottage built against the slope of the river bank in such a way that, whereas on the water side it looked quite imposing with its two full stories and a half, on the land side it showed a story less. The front door faced the road, and as is the case in so many rural homes, was rarely ever opened. The back door opened upon a rather unkempt little garden leading down to the interval through which the river glided silently on to the sea. Across the interval and above the river, the bridge stretched its gaunt length, its trusses and abutments full of fascination for the boys, who seemed never to weary of climbing about them as agile and fearless as monkeys in their native forest, or diving from their lower courses into the dark brown pools slumbering at the abutments’ feet, or of enacting the perilous part of Blondin, as they walked with cautious feet along the hand-rail, or even essayed the topmost stringer when their reckless mood was at its height.

Throughout the length of the North River valley the soil is fertile and quick to give good returns to those who cultivate it diligently, so that there always has been much comfort among the residents, even if little actual wealth. The various farmhouses, each surrounded by its dark green grove of apple and pear trees, are well built and

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

roomy, as indeed they have need to be; for there are few of them that do not shelter a whole tribe of boys and girls.

This was as much the case twenty years ago as it is to¬ day, and the white cottage of Grant, the carpenter, had no reason to be ashamed, for it held its due share of young people. There were seven of them in all, six boys, with capacities for consuming food and wearing out clothes, and one girl, the baby and pet of the family. This large family often filled their father with keen concern, for his business did not bring him very large returns.

Hugh, the eldest son, was the father’s boy in form and features; tall and thin, with black hair, sallow skin, and a gentle, almost shrinking, manner, although there gleamed in his eye when much provoked a fierce flash that be¬ tokened there was a limit to his patience which it might not be safe to overstep. Quite as a matter of course, as soon as he learned all that the little school at the cross¬ roads could teach him, he took his place beside his father in the shop. Attentive, careful, steadfast, he soon became a valuable assistant, although, as so often happens with the quiet, unobtrusive kind, he was not appreciated at home as fully as he deserved.

Donald came next, and in him was a remarkable blending of the characters of both his parents. Like his father, his hair and eyes were black ; but like his mothers, the former was crisp and curly, and the latter expressive of determination and high spirit; for Mrs.

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

Grant was a proud, ambitious woman, whose hope in life, so far as material advancement went, had been far from realized, and who now sought to comfort herself by the expectation that among her flock of boys there was one, at least, who would win the prize her husband had some¬ how missed.

Of the six, Donald seemed in her eyes to promise the best, and if she permitted herself to have a favorite it was he. In height he stood only half an inch less than Hugh, but his figure, instead of being thin, was well filled out and pleasantly symmetrical. His complexion was a light olive with warm patches of color in his cheeks, and his features, although not strictly regular, harmonized enough to entitle him to be considered a good-looking boy.

In his mental make-up there was the same combination of father and mother. Abounding in spirit and energy, brave almost to the verge of recklessness, he nevertheless had a good spice of his father’s caution, and generally had the good sense to know when to retire from a false position. All his mother’s ambition had descended to him. With each year of growth his horizon widened, until by the time he was fifteen, his outlook went far beyond the bounds of Rivervale. The plane, the sledge¬ hammer and the scythe were alike distasteful to him. He would be a worker with his head rather than with his hands, and would keep himself ever ready for the oppor¬ tunity which his mother, who sympathized in all his aspirations, assured him would infallibly come.

After Donald was Charlie, a blue-eved, golden-haired,

DONALD GRANINS DEVELOPMENT. 9

rosy-cheeked chap, the handsomest, merriest member of the family. A romping, reckless, impulsive character was Charlie; a leader in every form of mischief, and able, in some mysterious way, to influence the self-con¬ tained Hugh more than any of the others. He and Donald were particular friends. Their very difference of disposition seemed to draw them closer together, and they were well-nigh inseparable.

The desire of Charlie’s heart was to go to sea, but in this he had the sympathy of neither parent. His father wished him to learn blacksmithing. His mother was not particular whether he learned that or farming, so long as he did not leave Rivervale; for, with a mother’s sure intuition, she realized that his nature was one that would render him peculiarly open to the temptations of the world, and in no calling would he be more exposed to such danger than in that of the sea. For the present, the parental influence was strong enough to keep him at home, where he attended school or helped at the forge pretty much as he pleased, his father deeming it wise not to curb him too strictly, lest he should be tempted to run away, as so many boys had done before him.

Next to Charlie came Duncan, a small, soft-voiced, rather sly kind of boy, always on the lookout for number one, who had to stand a good deal of ridicule from his playmates because of certain feminine characteristics that earned for him the nickname of “ Sissy.”

Then there were the twins—the pride and joy of the household ; a pair of plump and lively mischiefs not to

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

be matched in the whole country. Robert and Harold were the excellent names given them by their parents, which, of course, were promptly cut down to Bob and Harry, and a little later on. under the pretence of their inability to distinguish one from the other, the boys linked the two abbreviations into one, producing a curious com¬ pound, “ Bobanharry,” which they applied indifferently to both, and to which the youngsters never failed to re¬ spond.

Last of all came the only daughter, a sturdy, solid bit of a girl, with a sweet, unselfish nature that saved her from being spoiled by the petting she received on all sides. Margaret was her name in full, but Meg was what they all called her, and it suited her far better than the more staid and dignified appellation.

Although, as has been hinted, Mr. Grant could scarcely be called well-to-do, he did manage, by dint of making the most of his little farm, to supplement the earnings of his carriage-making sufficiently to maintain a com¬ fortable home for his large family; and the members of it had, upon the whole, about as happy a time of it a3 any other family in Rivervale. Both Mr. and Mrs. Grant held very sensible views as to the management of their children. They were firm, without being unduly strict. They respected the individuality of each child, and did not look for a mechanical uniformity. They did not demand from frolicking, thoughtless Charlie the same painstaking fulfillment of directions that they never failed to receive from sure and steadfast Hugh.

“ They are very different from each other, Ellen,” said Mr. Grant to his wife, as they were talking together one evening after the young people had settled down for the night. “ And I am better pleased that it is so than if they were all alike. They each have their own good points, haven’t they ? ”

“ Indeed they have, Alec,” was Mrs. Grant’s reply, her countenance beaming with mingled love and pride as she mentally reviewed her darlings’ various characteristics, and found abundant good in each. “At the same time I am very glad that Hugh is the eldest, for he will be a great help to you as he grows up to manhood, and can take some of your work off your shoulders. For indeed, Alec dear, I am afraid you do have to work too hard, with so many mouths to feed and so many backs to clothe. You are getting to have a worn look that I don’t like at all.”

“ Oh, I’m right enough! ” answered Mr. Grant, with a reassuring smile. “ I do happen to feel a bit tired to¬ night, but that is all.”

With a half-suppressed sigh, Mrs. Grant rose and began to set the room in order, for the boys never failed to dis¬ arrange it most completely before betaking themselves to bed. The fact of the matter was, she felt a good deal of concern about her husband. Although he himself would not admit it, he undoubtedly was losing some of the vigor and strength that had distinguished him. The end of the day’s work always found him very weary, and glad to rest quietly at home, whereas not long before he had been

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

fond of dropping in upon his neighbors for a social chat, or of having a game of quoits in the open space in front of his shop.

But like a wise woman who had faith in an overruling Providence, no less all-merciful than all-powerful, she did not suffer these anxious thoughts to weigh too heavily upon her heart. In many ways her lot was full of bless¬ ing. For instance, while the decorum of Grant the blacksmith’s orderly household had never been broken in upon by the happy sound of childish voices, the olive branches were many about her table. Again, death had visited other homes and taken away children as dearly loved as her own, while her family circle was unbroken.

Then, even above these blessings did her soul take comfort in the bright promise she read in her boys; foi she and her husband had striven to bring them up in the fear and admonition of the Lord, and so far, at least, their care and prayers seemed not to be in vain.

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Grant were rigidly religious. They did not, like Squire Stewart, make the Sabbath a day to be dreaded by the children because of its dreary solemnity and preternatural dullness. They could not help the church services being sadly lacking in interest to young minds, for good old Dr. Sternhold never dreamed of adapting his discourses, which were as lengthy as they were erudite and prosy, to comprehensions much below that of the squire himself, who sat with rigid dignity in his big pew, nodding approval to each point from firstly to fourteenthlv.

To all the boys except Hugh those Sunday services seemed to be a species of purgatory. His gentle, patient spirit enabled him to endure them with scarce a wriggle, causing the preacher to form a very high opinion of him, and when he had opportunity, to pat him approvingly on the head and say, with a meaning glance at any of the others who happened to be within hearing: “ You have a very good boy here, Mrs. Grant. He seems to lose not a word of my discourse. It would be well if the rest of the boys in the congregation would imitate his most com¬ mendable example.”

Could Dr. Sternhold have seen into Hugh's mind, he would have read there an unspoken protest against what he felt to be undeserved praise; for, in reality, the sermons were to him little better than an unintelligible combina¬ tion of words read off from a bulky manuscript, in a dry, harsh voice almost entirely devoid of expression. But he was altogether too reserved and sensitive to undeceive the grand old pastor, who accordingly remained in bliss¬ ful ignorance.

There was, however, one part of the churchgoing that the boys really did enjoy, and that was the drive in to the village, four miles away, where the church lifted its white spire skyward, and then the drive home again, with purg¬ atory over for another week. How eagerly they helped in catching the horses and harnessing them to the long, three-seated express wagon which was required to carry the whole family; and how earnestly they contended for the privilege of holding the reins while they were passing through the woods, where the road was so safe that Mr. Grant could, without compunction, hand over the reins to one of the elder boys, who naturally felt it to be a great honor to drive so imposing a team.

Then after they returned with keen appetites for the dinner which would be prepared with all possible expedi¬ tion by the bustling mother, there would be the long afternoon during which they might do pretty much what they pleased, provided they did not indulge in any of their weekday sports and pastimes.

In the evening all would gather in the best parlor, where Mr. Grant, with his wife’s co-operation, would hold a kind of Sunday-school, giving instruction in the cate¬ chism and the Bible, which he sought to make as simple and interesting as possible. There was a wonderful dif¬ ference between his method and that of Dr. Sternhold; for although he could not lay claim to any great degree of education, he had a shrewd, observant, retentive mind that enabled him to profit to the utmost by such scanty advantages as had fallen in his way; and, moreover, he possessed a goodly spice of mother wit, that rendered his conversation, when natural and unconstrained as it of course always was in the bosom of his family, exceedingly interesting. He made the heroes of the Bible as real to his boys as the heroes of English history. To them Moses was no less actual a personage than Alfred the Great; and David shared their heartfelt admiration with the Black Prince.

Such was the home in which Donald Grant’s development began ; and in order to try and give a clear picture of it, this opening chapter has somewhat overrun the in¬ tended course of the story, so that in the succeeding chapters there must be a certain harking back, that everything may be brought into due sequence. As may be seen, there was nothing that could be called notable about his early surroundings. They were, so to speak, eminently commonplace. Yet he showed himself in later years to be a young man quite out of the ordinary; otherwise, indeed, there would be no justification for this

record. Therefore- But let the story explain itself

as it progresses.

Chapter II. The Crossroads School

HE facilities for acquiring an education at Rivervale

-L were, to say the least, very meagre. The bulk of the population in the neighborhood was made up of Scotch Roman Catholics, hard-headed, narrow-minded folk, who, so long as their sons were proficient in the use of the plough and pitchfork, and their daughters skillful in the production of good butter and strong yarn, took little thought for intellectual attainments, and were quite content to do without teaching in any form.

Of the few Protestants, Squire Stewart was of course the most prominent; a fine-looking old man, who had, be¬ neath a stern demeanor and a hard voice, as kind and generous a heart as there was in the county. His long residence at Rivervale, his commanding ways, and his wealth had made him a sort of autocrat. He owned the general store, and nearly everybody within a radius of three miles was “on his books.” He held a clear title to thousands of acres of the best land within sight, while his mortgages encumbered the titles of a score of the farmers, round about, who sometimes found it no easy matter to satisfy the squire and the needs of their families at the same time.

He was a Presbyterian of the strictest Old Kirk School,

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

having scanty charity for those who did not belong to his particular section of the divine sheepfold. The one thing that prevented an intimacy existing between him and Grant, the carpenter, that would have been of much benefit to both—for they sincerely admired each other’s good qualities—was the fact of the latter being a Bap¬ tist. The squire never could bring himself to forbear doctrinal discussion when they had opportunity for con¬ versation together, and however admirably Mr. Grant might keep both tongue and temper under control, the quiet yet steadfast firmness with which he adhered to his own views seemed to enrage the testy old gentleman about as much as if he had roared back at him in his own style; and the consequence was, no matter how gently the discussion might begin, it almost always ended in a volcanic explosion.

While the squire’s children were growing up, there had been a schoolhouse in a charming nook on the other side of the river, for which he had made it his business to see that there was always a good teacher provided, usually paying the bulk of the salary out of his own pocket. But after his sons and daughters had grown up and gone away, all save one daughter who would not leave him in his loneliness,—the mother having been for many years in the enjoyment of the reward of a saintly life,—the squire lost all interest in the school, and after a fitful existence it had flickered out altogether. Conse¬ quently, when the Grant boys began to approach the age of going to school, there was no school to which they could go.

B

In this emergency Mr. Grant went to the squire and laid the case before him. Here surely was a state of affairs that ought to enlist his interest and influence. The squire listened in grim silence to the carpenter’s earnest presentation of the case, and, when he had fin¬ ished, giving him a shrewd, sharp glance through his gold-rimmed spectacles, asked in his direct tone:

“ And what kind of a teacher would you like to have, Neighbor Grant ? ”

“As good as could be got, squire,” was the reply. “We can’t, of course, pay much of a salary, so I suppose we must not put our expectations too high.”

“ No, indeed, nor keep the school open all the year. We can have teaching only through the summer, anyway; but that is not what I want. I was thinking that, as it would be mainly for the benefit of your boys that the teacher would be engaged, you would not be satisfied un¬ less he was a Baptist, like yourself—eh ? And let me tell you, I will never raise my little finger to get a teacher on those conditions.” And having thus delivered him¬ self, the old man settled back sternly in his chair, his whole expression saying, “That’s my ultimatum; now make the best of it.”

But Mr. Grant seemed in nowise disconcerted by this bombshell. Smiling in his pleasantest manner, he leaned toward the squire, as he hastened to respond: “ My dear squire, I am afraid you think me to be a much more narrow-minded person than I really am. I can assure you that so long as the teacher is competent for the work,

DONALD GRANT'S DEVELOPMENT.

and is a decent, respectable fellow, it will matter not the flip of the finger to me whether he be Baptist, Methodist, or Presbyterian. For that matter, I am quite content that the choice of him should rest entirely with you, and then you can satisfy yourself that among other good qualities he holds that particular shade of doctrine which is held by your especial branch of the Presbyterian Church.”

There was a sly twinkle of humor in Mr. Grant's eye as he said this, because the relations between the different sections of the Presbyterian Church in Acadia had been so acutely strained for years past, that they were much more inclined to hold fellowship with other denominations than with one another.

The squire noted the twinkle, but wisely ignored it, and with much of the sternness gone out of his countenance, said : “ Well, if you leave the matter altogether in my hands, I will do my best to help you. We ought to have a trustee board formed at once. You, and Grant, the blacksmith, and Andy Chesholm, across the river, with myself, will be enough. I will see to that.”

After some further conversation, Mr. Grant went away much elated at the success of his application; for what¬ ever the squire promised to “ see to ” was as good as done. His reputation for keeping his word to the uttermost of human power went far beyond the bounds of Bivervale.

The squire did “ see to it ” with his customary prompti¬ tude. The board of trustees as suggested by him was duly constituted, the necessary steps taken for the pro-

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

vision of a salary, and finally, as a result of inquiry among the students of Chebucto University, situated in the Pro¬ vincial capital, the services of a second year student were secured for the school at Rivervale.

Some years previous to the school’s having been given up, as already explained, the schoolhouse had been moved across the river to a new site at the Crossroads, as the junction of the road coming from Upper North River with that which led ultimately away out to the north shore was always called. Here it was almost in view of Grant the carpenter’s cottage, and a bare quarter of a mile away, so that there would be no difficulty about regular attendance, no matter what the weather.

Here Hugh and Donald began their schooling under Angus McLeod, a tall, gaunt, sober-visaged young man, who was duly certified to belong to the strictest school of Old Kirk doctrine, held so high in reverence by the squire.

The two youngsters—for they were but eight and seven years respectively—at first entertained feelings of profound awe toward their teacher. His solemn manner, his deep, harsh voice, and his way of chopping up his sentences, made them think he was in a chronic state of crossness; and they found going to school rather an ordeal until they came to a better understanding of Mr. McLeod, which was brought about in this way :

They were the only Protestant boys in the school, and the only ones whose parents had taken the trouble to teach them the. alphabet and the multiplication table. This knowledge naturally gave them a start over their

DONALD GRANINS DEVELOPMENT.

more ignorant schoolmates, which, combined with a cer¬ tain innate refinement of manner that they inherited from their father, could not fail to especially enlist their teacher’s interest and sympathy. He had too much shrewd sense to make marked favorites of them ; but they soon learned that he was more than their teacher, placed over them to lead them through a mechanical round of petty tasks in the rudiments of education; he was a friend, a counsellor, a guide. He liked Hugh’s patient plodding, as he admired Donald’s restless energy. In the latter he was not slow to see more promise of a genuine student than in the former. Donald was far quicker at apprehension than iiis elder brother, nor wa3 his grasp less enduring.

“ Eh, Donald, laddie,” he would say, patting the black curls, and looking with a kind, brotherly expression into the bright, eager eyes, “ye like to think for yourself, don’t ye, and to ask questions. I greatly hope you will live to get to Chebucto University; for it is just your kind they like best to have there.”

Donald, of course, entirely missed the point of the reference to the university; but he did not miss the big, grave man’s winning sympathy, and it had it3 inspiring, helpful influence upon him, even at that early age.

The school session lasted only for the summer. In the autumn, to Donald’s especial grief, Mr. McLeod had to return to his studies.

“Won’t you please come back again?” he pleaded, holding desperately on to his hand a3 he stood at the roadside waiting for the coach. “ Do please come back soon, won’t you?”

“I cannot just give you my word on it, Donald, lad¬ die,” replied Mr. McLeod, lifting the earnest little fellow up in his strong arms, “ for we are all in the hands of Providence, you know; and then, maybe I won’t be asked to come back.”

“ No fear of that,” broke in Mr. Grant, standing at his elbow. “ No tear of that. We want no better teacher than you. You’re more than welcome to the school for as many summers as you can make it conve¬ nient to come to us.”

“Well, those are very kind words, Mr. Grant,” said Mr. McLeod, a bright smile illuminating his face; “ and it is pleasant to bear such away. I have tried to do my best here, although,” lowering his voice almost to a whisper, “ present company excepted, I have had some heart-breaking material to work on.”

Just then the coach rolled into sight. There was a brief stoppage to take up the passenger and to exchange mail bags, for Grant, the blacksmith, had charge of a way post office; and with a crack of the whip and rattle of trace chains, the teacher was carried aw r ay, while the big tears chased one another down Donald’s plump cheeks.

During the long winter, the mention of Mr. McLeod’s name was sufficient to insure Donald’s diligent attention to the lessons his mother set him, and with the opening of spring he began to look eagerly for the return of his friend. When a letter came from him stating that he

DONALD GRANT’S DEVELOPMENT.

would resume his teaching immediately after the closing of the university, Donald was as happy as if a fortune had been left him. At last, one afternoon late in April, the coach on its trip out from the village carried a pas¬ senger for Rivervale, and this was none other than Angus McLeod returning to his former field of work.

The warmest of country greetings awaited him at the home of Grant, the carpenter, and in a few days the little Crossroads school was running again just as though it had not been asleep for more than six months. He was glad to find that neither Hugh nor Donald had for¬ gotten in the winter what they had learned in the sum¬ mer, as was the case with the most of their schoolmates. Thanks to parental assistance, they had decidedly gained ground, and Mr. McLeod felt so proud of them that, calling them up to his desk one morning, he put them through a thorough examination to which the whole school was called upon to listen; and then, in a sudden burst of indignation, cried out: “There, boys and girls, doesn’t that make you ashamed of yourselves? You might at least have managed to keep in your heads what I taught you last summer, even though you added noth¬ ing to it. But now, with most of you, I have to begin all over again.”

There was a new pupil from the Grant household this summer, viz: Charlie, rejoicing in six full years. He at once proved himself a most amusing and exasperating scholar. As bright as a button, he was also as merry as a cricket, and seemed to believe that his special mission was to set his schoolmates to giggling. Had he been older, Mr. McLeod, of course, could have taken stern measures with him and enforced good behavior upon him; but he was as tiny as he was merry, and he had such an innocent, babyish face that it was impossible to deal with him as he deserved. So he was assigned a seat between his two brothers, and they were charged with keeping him in order, which difficult feat they managed to per¬ form fairly well.