Lige Golden, the man who twinkled

Front matter

Book_ HjLU±

Li

COPVRIGHT DEPOSIT;

I . Illustrations

“He loves to talk with folks like Maggie Gil-

lis” . Frontispiece

“Limp like, upon the rock with their legs

actually dangling over the falls” . . 29

“Smiling as if he hadn’t a care in the world” 47

“He was smiling so we knew he wasn’t dead” 66

“You always get what you wish for. What’ll

you have?”.123

“We stopped a moment catching our breath

as we glanced in at the window” , .146

*

From the Lynnville (Vt.) Times, Sept. 15, 1Q21. News Item — Peoria , Sept. 2.

By the astounding confession of the late Judge Benjamin Atwood of this city , just before his death , the name of one Elijah Golden is cleared of com¬ plicity in the crime for which he died in a western penitentiary many years ago. Nothing of the said Golden's anteced¬ ents appears to be known. He was a curious and somewhat mysterious char¬ acter , and died without funds or known relations.

The above notice came under the eye of the editor by the merest accident , and is reproduced herewith in the hope that some of our older read¬ ers will be able to associate the name of this Eli¬ jah Golden with incidents which occurred in the little village of East Bur don, five miles north of here , something over forty years ago.

We recall that the late editor of the Times, the Hon. Nathan Wilson , who was a native of that town, not infrequently referred to the life and teachings of a certain “Lige” Golden, and this man, who was a blacksmith by trade, appears to have left a marked impress upon his boyhood im¬ agination.

If further information about this individual and the incidents surrounding his career can be obtained from first-hand sources, in the light of the above news item, we opine that it will prove of unusual interest to our readers. Ed.

Lynnville Times — Sept. 29.

In response to our request in last fortnight’s issue for information relative to Elijah Golden, we have been agreeably surprised by the receipt from an unexpected source of what promises to be a most entertaining and instructive document. This is in the form of a somewhat voluminous set of diary notes made by one of the boys who lived in the village of East Bur don in the old days and was in fact the boyhood chum of the late editor of this paper, Mr. Wilson.

These notes, some of which are mutilated and others faded with age, are receiving the discrimi¬ nating attention of our editorial staff, and it is the intention to reproduce them in our columns in as nearly their original form and chronological order as is consistent with clearness.

The writer of these notes will no doubt be iden¬ tified by some of his old friends, but as he has been a little shy about the use of his name in pub¬ lic print, we shall abide by his wishes. Suffice to say that he is an eminently respected and success¬ ful professional man in one of the big cities of the middle west.

He writes that in order to educate their (( precocious only son” his family moved from the country shortly after the events described, and later migrated to westward. For this reason he has never revisited the haunts of his boyhood, but the mental pictures which he carries of the little hamlet nestled among the hills are very vivid, and bring back many scenes and incidents which have profoundly influenced his life.

He expresses the hope that after the publication of such portions of his notes as we deem (( wise and proper” it will be safe for him to visit the town; and wishes to know if there is still good fishing in the old Dishmill Brook.

We have assured him that some things never grow old, and our cordial invitation is to come back and try his hand. The Dishmill is one of the brooks that has never yet disappointed its old admirers.

Next week we shall therefore issue the first in¬ stallment of

LIGE GOLDEN The Man Who Twinkled .

The incidents herein are recorded as taking place during the springy summer and jail of the year 1879. As the original notes have required a certain amount of transposition and rearrangement in the interests of continuity , it has been thought wise to omit specific dates.

I

Saturday.

Today has been a pretty exciting day in our village and Lige Golden is the hero, although I guess he made Doctor Rush feel pretty cheap, by bringing Charlie Whiting back to life long after the doctor said it was no use and had gone and told Josh Bean, the undertaker, about his drown¬ ing in the mill pond and to come and get him.

It was funny too, you can bet, to see the look on Josh’s red face when he came, puffing and blowing, round the corner of his coffin and casket shop, and heard the boys all laughing and hur¬ rahing, and shouting “He’s all right,” and some¬ body yelled “You’re too late Josh,” and his face fell like he really felt disappointed over what ever it was we were laughing at.

We couldn’t help thinking what we heard Josh say, one day last week, when Lige Golden asked him, down in front of the post office before every¬ body: “How’s business this spring?” and Josh answered right out, “Damn rotten, Lige, sense you come to town.” Everybody laughed because we all knew there hadn’t been a death in town for a long time and that Lige had cured up the only prospect when he got old Carrie Finney on her feet and going about better than she had been for years. That’s another story, as the writers say, but it just made the look on Josh’s face seem all the funnier.

Lige’s real name is Elijah Golden and he is the new man at the blacksmith shop. Bill Straiter hired him this spring when the work started up, and he does say he’s the best horse shoer he ever had, though he just took him on trial, not know¬ ing anything about him, or his family, or where he came from, or anything.

Lige has been working there over a month and nobody knows anything about him yet and they can’t seem to get anything out of him, because every time they question him about himself he turns it off, some way or other, and begins to talk about other things. Some of the things he says sound kind of strange and most of the folks think he’s a little queer in the head, but the boys mostly like him, because he’s always so good natured, and when he does talk he’s so interesting and so different from anyone else in the village. I guess he must have traveled all over the world for he is always remarking, “That’s the way they do things in Peru” or “That’s what they say in India” or some other place.

Well, to go back to what happened. Charlie Whiting and his mother, who is the widow of El¬ mer Whiting, who was the son of old Squire Whit¬ ing of this town, has been visiting here the past month, from Worcester, and we have had great times making him do all the stunts we boys in the village are used to, but which he, being a city lad, is green to.

Charlie is a pretty good little chap and plucky but while he doesn’t put on airs like some city boys, he is so white and genteel looking and his mother keeps him so spick and span all the time that we boys in the village are sure to get him into some scrape most every day, so that he will go home looking — well, more like the rest of us.

The first day he was here there was snow on the ground and we took him round to all the ma¬ ple sugar camps, where we knew the farmers were sugaring off, and he ate so much sugar in all the places, he got sick and we had to drag him on our sled.

My, wasn’t he sick! Of course all the farmers, when they found he was Elmer Whiting’s son, told him to pitch in and eat all the sugar he wanted, and of course Nate Wilson and I helped ourselves, too. But we were used to it, but Charlie wasn’t and we kept stumping him to eat more. We would pour out a lot of the hot syrup on the snow and when it got hard and waxy we would roll up a great big gob and stump him to put it all into his mouth at once, and then we would stand round and laugh to see his teeth stick together.

Well, the first time he began to get a little sick, he laid down on some boards and pretended he wanted to take a little nap. I guess he really went to sleep, for we came back and found him that way, and we thought we would try a little trick that we had heard about among the men who sit up all night to boil sap.

We got some charcoal and rubbed it on the back of his hands, then we put a little syrup on his eyelids, and then sat back and tickled his nose with a straw. Of course when he began to wake up and found his eyes feeling sticky, he rubbed them with his knuckles and by the time he was awake he was a sight to behold.

Well, all the week we had been doing things like that; and today we were running on the logs in the mill pond, and digging spruce gum.

This time of the year the pond is full of logs which have come down the river from the logging camps, and the gum softens in the sun so that we can scrape it out with our jackknives, and we make up large balls as big as your fist and take them to school.

When the teacher catches us chewing gum, she takes us by the ear and leads us up before the whole school, and makes us put it into the stove. And when she asks us if we have got any more gum, and makes us turn our pockets inside out, and perhaps searches our desk, the whole school is giggling because every scholar knows that a big ball of gum is being passed from one to an¬ other, and will be handed back to us as soon as we are ready for another chew.

Of course running on logs is a little bit dangerous, even for us boys who are used to it, for you can never tell just which logs may roll, and you have to jump pretty lively sometimes to escape duckings. Besides there are some pretty deep holes in the pond, and when the water is high there is quite a current.

We boys who are used to it don’t think much about the danger for we know all the dangerous places, and I suppose it was pretty careless, on our part, to lead Charlie on as we did.

Well, Nate and I had been leading Charlie quite a race over the logs, sometimes leaving him quite a ways behind, and looking back and laugh¬ ing to see him trying to balance himself on a roll¬ ing log or trying to get up courage to make the next jump, which might land him among a bunch of small logs where he would have to keep jump¬ ing lively from one to another to keep from sink¬ ing.

The last we saw of him he was balancing him¬ self on some logs up by the deep hole near where the Dishmill brook comes in. We were a few rods down toward the mill where we were at work on a rich find of spruce gum. He was stooping over looking between the logs and we think he must have been looking for the big trout that we had seen there the day before and tried to tempt with our bait.

We found the log with the gum and shouted for him to come on down and help us. We didn’t get any answer, and finally, when we looked up, we couldn’t see Charlie anywhere. At first we thought he must have gone ashore in the bushes. So we kept on shouting and next thing we knew, Charlie’s cap bobbed up between some logs right near where we were standing. Well, you’d bet¬ ter bet we were scared. We knew mighty quick that Charlie had fallen in and was drifting down underneath the logs toward the dam.

The water is pretty swift right along there be¬ cause the brook, at this season of the year, is swollen by the melting snow on the mountain to quite a torrent, and the current is felt quite a ways after it enters the pond.

Charlie couldn’t swim much and it was aw¬ fully foolish of us to make him take such chances, and it all came over us in a minute, that we were not much better than murderers unless we could do something quick to save him.

He might at this moment be floating under our feet, and we first off started looking down into the deep water between the logs. We could see the sand on the bottom and bits of twigs and leaves and sawdust floating along in the current, but no Charlie.

What we should have done, if we had seen him, I don’t know, for it is awfully dangerous to get caught down under the logs, and the current sweeping you rapidly along toward the dam; but I guess either of us would have risked our lives, we felt so mean, and so sorry thinking of his mother and his old grandparents, and what all the villagers would say about us.

They say that a drowning person thinks of all that ever happened to him in an instant, and that all the sins he ever committed and everything come into his mind before he passes into eternity; but I guess the next thing to that is what goes through one’s mind when he has been the cause of someone else drowning.

Then when we didn’t see him between the logs or anywhere, I guess we did yell.

Bill Sykes down at the mill heard us and came running up on the logs with his spike-pole in his hands, and someone on the opposite bank shouted for a rope, but my! how the time sped and no signs of anything to give us any hope. We saw Bill a little ways off, stop and gaze toward the dam. We knew what that meant. The water was very high and in another minute we expected to see Charlie’s body rise up and go over the dam and be dashed to pieces bn the rocks below.

There was a boom made of logs fastened to¬ gether end to end which ran from the other bank, kind of slanting, across the mill pond up to the sluice-way at the mill, and this kept the logs back from going over the dam. There was quite an open space of water between this boom and the dam and into this we were all gazing, realizing that there was little we could do, even if we should see the body, as anyone who jumped in here, even if he was an expert swimmer, would be most sure of being washed over the dam.

The blacksmith shop is just opposite the place where the boom starts from the shore, and sud¬ denly we saw Lige Golden running rapidly down to this point. By the time he reached it he had thrown away both of his shoes and his vest, and then he began running like a cat along the boom looking first one way and then another.

Pretty soon he stopped and looked back where the brook comes in, as if to find just the right place along the boom where the current of the brook would be taking the body. He looked down toward the dam, then up toward the brook, and began working up on the logs in that direc¬ tion, peering down between them as he went.

Suddenly we saw him go down on his stomach across a log and the next instant the log rolled over, and him with it, head first into the water and out of sight. That was all we saw, not even a splash or any sign to show whether Elijah had fallen in by accident, or gone down after some¬ thing he had seen.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but it seemed an age. Somehow we felt “It’s all over.” Two or three other people had come up on the bank — and some teams on the road had stopped.

Everyone was looking where Elijah went in, and nobody knew what to do next.

Suddenly someone on the bank gave a shout and the next instant we heard a splash and a spluttering and there was Lige not more than two yards from the boom in the clear water, and he had Charlie in tow. Charlie lay all limp and white with his face up and Lige had him by the hair, and was swimming hard, with one hand, towards the logs. The current was against him and you could see at once that he couldn’t make it and keep his hold on Charlie. He was drifting farther toward the dam every second.

We ran to the edge, but it was no use. Bill Sykes soon came up with his pole but by that time it would not reach. One of the men started to run back to his team for a rope, but it was plain that Lige and Charlie were now sweeping toward the dam so fast that nothing could save them.

Suddenly Lige stopped swimming and turned his head toward the dam. You could see that he realized his danger, and we thought he was giving up. We felt like closing our eyes but I guess some of us felt like praying too — but we couldn’t use much faith because we couldn’t see any way out, even for the Lord to save him, unless he threw down a rope from heaven, and that wasn’t likely according to what we knew about drowning accidents.

Well, when we looked again, Lige had begun to swim sideways — that is, across the current to¬ ward the other bank.

At first this seemed like he had lost his senses, for the bank was quite a long distance and he wasn’t much more than ten feet from the edge of the dam. The water was so high it was sweeping along with tremendous force, and the roar, as it fell over on the rocks below, made us want to stop our ears.

But Lige was right. He knew just what he was doing and he took the one chance. Out there in the middle of the dam was a rock that could be seen in low water but now was just below the sur¬ face. It was sort of flat on top and didn’t make much show in the high water, but if Lige could only reach it he might hold on till help came. Well, that was what he did.

For a minute I thought one or the other would be swept over but he managed to hook his free arm under the edge toward us while his body and that of Charlie were washed, limp like, up onto the rock with their legs actually dangling over the falls.

Gee! How he hung on to that boy! Lucky he had a good head of hair but I thought his scalp would be torn off. Lige finally got his legs about Charlie’s body and got a better grip on his collar and then we knew they were safe, for the moment.

The rope came, and Lige first fastened it about Charlie’s body, tying knots with one hand and his teeth, and when he thought it was secure, he gave, signal and we drew the body up on the logs. It was an awful sight to see, he was so limp and white — and kept turning over and over in the water as he was pulled along.

Lige was making frantic signs for us to hurry and we thought he was losing his grip, but when the rope reached him he didn’t stop to tie it, but gave it a twist about one arm, plunged in and be¬ gan to swim.

My! he almost made the rope slack in our hands as we hauled it in, he was such a powerful swimmer. He bounced himself up on the logs and began running toward the shore where they had taken Charlie’s body.

Someone ran ahead for the doctor, but Lige overtook those who had Charlie, and made them lay him down on the ground. He gave orders and everybody obeyed. He sent someone for brandy and told Nate and me to go over to the shop and take a horse blanket off Abe Gilson’s horse and wrap it up tight to keep the heat in it.

We ran as fast as we could and when we came back, quite a crowd had collected and was stand¬ ing about, but Lige made them all stand off a proper distance to give plenty of air, while two or three, that he had asked, were helping. They had Charlie on his back and some of his clothes were off and they were rubbing his legs and body while Lige was raising Charlie’s arms up above his head and then slowly bringing them down to his sides and pressing on his chest. Every now and then Lige would turn the body over and lift it up by the hips so that the head would hang down, and the water would drip from the nose and mouth.

We spread out the blanket and Charlie was wrapped up more or less, but the work went on just the same. Charlie didn’t show any signs of life at all, and I guess most of us were thinking about the same, that it wasn’t any use.

Then the doctor came up and tried to find Charlie’s pulse and told Lige the case was hope¬ less. Lige didn’t say a word but kept right on working and you could see that the doctor didn’t know just where to fit in and was a little peeved that more respect wasn’t paid to his judgment. He tried for a time to do something, but you could see he didn’t think it was any use, and finally he stood back and after making some pret¬ ty discouraging remarks, turned and walked away, saying he would send Josh down after the body.

Well sir! Lige just got down on his knees over Charlie’s body and we thought he was going to pray. Then he leaned way over and put his face down to Charlie’s face and we thought he was going to cry — but pretty soon we could see that he was actually breathing his own breath down into Charlie’s lungs.

We could see Charlie’s chest rise and fall as the breath would go down into him and then be pushed back by Elijah’s hand on Charlie’s stom¬ ach. And when the breath came out we would hear little gurgles and sounds like Charlie’s voice that made us feel pretty queer, I can tell you.

Every once in a while after Lige had pressed the air out, he would straighten up a little and watch, as if he expected something to happen, and finally I guess it did, for we heard Lige say, “Thank God!”

Charlie actually had made a little gasp all by himself. This was the first sign we had seen of any life, and it wasn’t very much, I can tell you, but Lige knew what it meant.

Well, he went to work again with his arms, and every now and then put his mouth down and blew into his lungs, but not so often, for pretty soon Charlie gave a little sigh and began to breathe quite regular. It was then for the first time Lige tried a little of the brandy on him, but not much, for he couldn’t swallow very well, and Lige said it wasn’t much use anyhow.

The sun came out quite hot and Lige said that was better than brandy. He let Charlie lie in the

3 2 sun, and kept rubbing him gently, first one place and then the other. Finally, after Charlie had opened his eyes and tried to speak, Lige rolled him up in the horse blanket and picking him up tenderly, like a mother does her baby, he started to carry him up towards Squire Whiting’s house in the village.

That was when the boys and men let out a shout, and just then Josh Bean, the undertaker, came around the corner.

II Sunday

Today after church, Nate and I cut Sunday School and sneaked down to our little island, be¬ cause we had so many things we wanted to talk over, all by ourselves.

The rescue of Charlie Whiting by Elijah Gold¬ en has been the talk of the whole town and today the minister preached about it and had most ev¬ erybody crying, and I guess we felt we couldn’t stand very much more.

We thought it would be a day of great rejoic¬ ing, but instead of that, after the sermon, every¬ body looked pretty solemn and we knew from past experience just what that would lead to in the Sunday School.

The minister said that such an episode should lead to a grate revival of religion in our town and knowing our part in getting Charlie into trouble, we felt sure they would begin on us the first chance they had. So we lit out.

The Dishmill brook flows down back of the church, and there is a little island where we boys have camp fires and all sorts of good times. There is a plank across the stream on the side next the church, and we can go over, and pull the plank after us and then nobody is likely to disturb us unless they come down the brook from above. At this season, when the water is high, the roar of the brook makes so much noise we wouldn’t be likely to hear anyone calling us.

This brook gets its name from an old mill at the head of the village where they used to turn out wooden dishes. There is not much left of the mill but the falls are still there, and the island is made by the water which was divided at the mill, part going over the falls and part going through a flume under the mill to turn the wheel, and coming out on the other side. Of course it is not really an island because anyone who would climb down over the rocks at the mill, would come out on the island. There are good trout in the pools below the falls, and we boys often fish down from there, on each side of the island, and the plank is placed near the foot of the island so we can get ashore.

The island is all grown up to alders and birches and small spruce and is pretty thick around the edges, but up in the center toward the falls there is a place which is all gravel and rocks and sur¬ rounded by thick foliage, and it makes the best place ever for camp fires and pow wows.

Well, to go back to yesterday. While Lige was bringing Charlie to life, I guess the news had spread that he was dead, for Mr. Hardiman, the minister, was talking to Charlie’s mother on the porch when we came in sight.

Squire Whiting’s home is up quite a steep hill, just out of the village, so I guess nobody had gone ahead to tell his mother the glad news that Charlie was saved, and most of the crowd had dropped back when we reached the hill, so there was just Nate and Elijah and I, as we came in sight.

Charlie was all wrapped up in the horse blan¬ ket, and it was wonderful to see how easily Lige carried him along up that steep hill, after his ex¬ ertions.

Lige didn’t seem the least bit tired and he was talking and laughing, as if nothing had happened. I guess he was telling us about his experience in the South Sea Islands where he learned to swim under water, diving for pearls and corals and things.

It seems that he found Charlie caught by a snag and held down under the logs; and that was the only reason he had not been swept along over the dam before Elijah came. Lige saw him there and went down and untangled him, but as soon as he was loose, the current swept them below the boom before Elijah could get a good hold on a log. He said he grabbed at the boom log but the bark came off and he couldn’t get a fresh grip.

We were so busy listening to Lige and so happy thinking of the good news we were bringing that I guess we didn’t grasp the situation up at the house, and if we saw the tears in Mrs. Whiting’s eyes we must have thought they were tears of joy.

The minister looked pretty solemn but we didn’t think anything of that, being used to it, and Charlie’s mother covered her face with her handkerchief as we passed between them through the open door.