The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXI, Issue 35, 27 August 1903, Page 23

The Storyteller

A STORY OF '98

It was one of Ireland's greenest lanes that wound its way down to a rippling brook in the rere of Friend Goodman's house. And there, by .a mound of rocks, that dipped their mossy feet in the rivulet, Friend Goodman walked slowly, watching for , his little daughter, who had been spending the day with some children in the neighborhood. Presently, the small maiden came jumping along, with her bonnet thrown back, and the edges of her soft brown ringlets luminous in the rays of the setting sun. Those pretty curls were not Quakerly • but Nature, who pays no more attention to the regulations of Elders than she does to the edicts of bishops would have it so. At the slightest breath of moisture, the silky hair rolled itself into spirals and clustered round her pure white forehead, as if it loved the nestlingplace. Jumping, likewise, was not a Quakerly proceeding, but little Alice, treually staid and demure, in imitation of those around her, had met with a new companion, whose temperament was more mercurial than her own, and she was yielding to its magnetic influence. Camillo Campbell, a boy of six years, was the grandson of an Italian lady who had married an Irish absentee, resident in Florence. Her descendants had lately come to Ireland, and taken possession of estates in the immediate neighborhood of Friend Goodman, where little Camillo's foreign complexion, lively temperament, and graceful broken language rendered him an object of great interest, especially among the children He it was with whom little Alice was skipping through tne green lane, bright and free as the wind and sunshine that played among her curls. As the sober father watched their innocent gambols, he felt his own pulses quicken, and his motions involuntarily became more rapid and elastic than usual. The little girl came nestling up to his side, and rubbed her head upon his arm, like a petted kitten. Camillo peeped roguishly from behind the mossy rocks, kissed his hand to her, and ran off, hopping first on one foot and then on the other. 1 Dost thou like that little boy ? ' inquired Friend Goodman, as he stooped to kiss his darling. ' Yes, Camillo's a pretty boy, I like him,' she replied. Then with a skip and a bound, which showed that the electric fluid was still leaping in her veins, she added, ' he's a funny boy, too ; he swears " you " all the time.' The simple child, being always accustomed to hear thee and thou, verily thought ' you ' was a profane word Her father did what was very unusual with him ; he laughed outright, as he replied, ' What a strange boy is that.' 'He asked me to come down to the rock and play to-morrow. May I go after school ? ' jshe asked. IWe will see what mother says,' he replied. ' But where didst thou meet Camillo ? ' ' He came to play with us in the lane, and Deborah and John and 1 went into his garden to ,see the birds Oh, he has got such pretty birds ! There's a nice little meeting-house in the garden ; and there's a Avoman standing there with a baby. Camillo calls, her my donny. He says we mustn't play in there. Why not ? Who is my donny ? ' ' The people in Italy, where Camillo used to live, call the mother of Christ Madonna,' replied her father. ' And who is Christ ? ' she asked. ' He was a holy Man Who lived a great many years ago. I read to thee one day about His taking little children in His arms and blessing them.' ' I think He loved little children almost as well as thou,' said Alice. ' But what do they put His mother in that little meeting-house for ? ' Not deeming it wise to puzzle her busy little brain with theological explanations, Friend Goodman called her attention to a small dog, whose culry white hair soon displaced the Madonna, and even Camillo, in her thoughts. But 'the new neighbor and the conservatory peopled with birds, and the little chapel in the garden made a strong impression on her mind. She was always talking of them, and in after years they remained by far the most vivid picture in the gallery of childish recollections. Nearly every day she and Camillo met at the mossy rock, where they planted flowers, and buried flies in c'ovcr leaves, and launched little boats on the stream. When they strolled towards the conservatory, the old gardener was always glad to admit them. Flowering shrubs and gaudy parrots, so bright in the warm sunshine, formed such a cheerful contrast to her own unadorned home, that little Alice was never weary with gazing and wondering. But from 1 all the brilliant things she chose two Java sparrows for her especial

favorites. The old gardener told her that they were Quaker birds, because their feathers were all of such a soft quiet color. Bright little Camillo ' caught up the idea, and said, « I know what for you so much do like them : Quaker lady-bird they be.' ' And she's a Quaker lady-bird, too,' said the old gardener, smiling, as he patted her on the head ; « she's a nice little lady-bird.' Poll Parrot heard him, and repeated, ' Lady-bird • Always after that, when Alice entered the conservatory, the parrot laughed and screamed, • Lady-bird ! ' Near the door were two niches, partially concealed by a net-work of vines, and in the niches were statues of two winged children. Alice inquired who they were ; and C . a ';u 11 V e J >lied ' 'My little sister and brother. Children of the Madonna now they is. 1 His mother had told him this, and he did' not understand what it meant ; neither did Alice. She looked up at the winged ones with timid love, and said, * Why don't they come down and play with us. ? ' * ' From heaven they cannot come down,' answered Camillo. Alice was about to inquire the reason why, when the parrot \ interrupted her by calling out, ' Lady-bird ! Lady-bird ! and Camilio began to mock her. Then, laughing merrily, off they ran to the mossy rock* to plant some flowers the gardener had given them. That night, while Alice was eating her supper, Friend Goodman chanced to read aloud something in which the word heaven occurred. ' I've been to heaven,' said Alice. ' Hush, hush, my child,' replied her father. 1 But I have been to heaven,' she insisted. ' Little children have wings there.' Her parents exchanged glances of surprise, and the mother asked, • How dost thou know that little children have wings in heaven ? ' ' Because I saw them,' she replied. * They wear white gowns, and they are children of my donny. My donny lives in the little meeting-house in Camillo's garden. She's the mother of Christ, that loved little children so much ; but she never said anything to me. The birds call me lady-bird in heaven.' Her mother looked very sober. * She gets her head full of strange things down yonder,' said she. • I tell thee, Joseph, I don't like to have the children playing together so much. There's no telling what may come of 1 v . ' Oh, they are mere Babes,' replied Joseph. ' The my donny, as she calls it, and her doll are all the same to her. The children take a deal of comfort together, and it seems to me it is not worth while to put estrangement between them. Divisions come fast enough in the human family. When he is a lad he will go away to school and college, and will come back to live in a totally different world from ours. Let the little ones en.ioy themselves while they can.' Thus spoke the large-hearted Friend Joseph ; but Rachael was not so easily satisfied. ' I don't like this talk about graven images,' said she. 'If the child's head gets full of such notions, it may not prove so easy to put them out.'

Truly, there seemed some ground for Rachael's fears; for whether Alice waked or slept, she seemed to live in the neighbor's garden. Sitting beside her mother, in the silent Quaker meeting, she forgot the row of plain bonnets before her, and saw a vision of winged children through a vale of vines. At school she heard the old green parrot scream, ' Lady-bird ! ' and fan-tailed doves and Java sparrows hopped into her dreams. She had never heard a fairy story in her life ; otherwise, she Avould doubtless have imagined that Camillo was a prince, who lived in an enchanted palace, and had some powerful fairy for a friend.

It came to pass as Joseph had predicted. These days of happy companionship soon passed away. Camillo went to a distant school, -then to college, and then was absent awhile on the Continent. It naturally happened that the wealthy Catholic family had but little inlnforcourse with the substantial Quaker farmer. Years passed without a word between Alice and her former i'u'v-fo,ilow. once, during his college life, she met him ond his father on horseback, as she was riding home from meeting, on a small grey mare her father had given her. He touched his hat, and said, ' How do you do, Miss Goodman ? ' and she replied, • How art thou, Camillo 9 ' His father inquired, ' Who is that young woman ■> ' and he answered, ' She is tlie daughter of Farmer Goodman, with whom I used to play, sometimes, when a boy.' Thus, like shadows, they passed on their separate ways. He thought no more of the rustic Quaker girl ; and with her the bright picture of their childhood was like the remembrance of last year's rainbow. But events now approached which put all rainbows and flowers to flight. The insurrection broke out in Ireland, and a ter-

rible civil war began to rage. The Quakers, being conscientiously opposed to war, could not adopt the emblems of either party, and were, of course, opposed to the hostilities of both. Joseph Goodman, in common with others of his religious persuasion, had always professed to believe, that, returning good for evil was a heavenly principle, and, therefore safe policy. Alice had received this belief as a traditionary inheritance without disputing it. But now came times that tested faith severely. Every night they retired to rest with the consciousness that their worldly possessions might be destroyed by fire and pillage before morning, and perhaps their liveis sacrificed by infuriated soldiers. At the n>eet-lng-house and by the wayside, earnest were the exhortations of the brethren to stand by their principles, and not flinch in this hour of trial. Joseph Goodman's sermon was brief and impressive. ' The gospel of love has power %9 regenerate the world, ' said he, ' and the humblest individual, who lives according to it, has done something for the salvation of man.' His strength was soon tried ; for the very next day a party of soldiers came into the neighborhood, and set fire to all the houses of those who loved their country better than their king. Groans and shrieks, and the sharp sound ol shots were heard in every direction. Fierce men rushed into their peaceful dwelling, demanding food, and ordering them to give up their arms.

• Food I will give, Dut arms I have none,' replied Joseph.

' More shame for you ! ' roared the commander of the troop. 'If you can't do anything more for your king than that, you may as well be killed at once, for a coward as you are.'

He drew his sword, but Joseph did not ,wink at the flash of the glittering blade. He looked him calmly in the eye, and said , 'If thou art willing to take the crime of murder on thy conscience, I cannot help it. 1 would not willingly do harm to thee, or to any man.' The soldier turned away abashed, and putting his sword into the scabbard, he muttered, ' Well, give us something to eat, will you ? ' The hours that followed were frightful with the light of blazing houses, the crash of musketry, and the screams of women and children flying across the field. Many took refuge in Joseph's house, and he did all he could to soothe and strengthen them.

At sunset he went forth with his serving men to seek the wounded and the dead. Along the road and among the bushes mangled bodies were lying in every direction. Those in whom life remained they brought with all tenderness, and consigned to the care of Rachael and Alice ; and as long as they could see they gathered the dead for burial. In the evening the captain ot the soldiers returned in great wrath. ' This is rather too much,' he exclaimed. 'We didn't spare your house this morning to have it converted into an hospital for the enemies of our King. Turn out every one of them, or we will burn it over your heads.'

' I cannot stay thy hand, if thou hast the heart to do it,' mildly replied Joseph, ' but I will not desert my fellow-creatures in their great distress. If the time should come when thy party is routed, we will bury thy dead and nurse thy wounded, as we have done for the loyalists. I will do good to all parties and harm none. Here I take my stand, and thou mayest kill me if thou wilt.'

Again the soldier was arrested by a power he knew not how to resist. Joseph, seeing his embarrassment, added : • I put the question to thee, as a man ol war, Is it manly to persecute women and children ? Is it brave to torture the wounded and the dying ? Wouldst thou feel easy to think of it in thy dying hour ? Let us part in peace, and when thou hast need of a friend come to me.'

After brief hesitation, the soldier said, ' It would be a happier world if all thought as you do.' Then, calling to his men, he said, ' Let us be oR, men ; there's nothing to be done here.'

...A fortnight after, triumphant loyalists again came, with loud uproar to destroy the houses of the patriots It was scarcely daybreak when Alice was roused from uneasy slumber by the discharge of musketry, and a lurid light on the walls of her room. Starting up, she beheld Colonel Campbell's house in a blaze The beautiful statues of the Madonna and the winged children were knocked to pieces and ground under the feet of an angry mob. Vines and flowers crisped under the crackling flames, and the beautiful birds from foreign climes fell suffocated in the smoke, or flew forth frightened, into the woods and fields, and perished by cruel hands. In the greten lane, once so peaceful and pleasant, ferocious men were scuffling and trampling, shooting and stabbing. Everywhere the grass and the moss were dabbled with blood. Above all the din were heard the shrill screams of women and children ; and the mother of Camillo came flying into Joseph's house, exclaiming, ' Hide me, oh, hide me ! ' Alice received her in her arms, laid her throbbing head

tenderly on her bosom, put back the hair that was , falling in wild disorder over her face, and tried to calm her terror with gentle words. Others came pouring in, and no one was refused a shelter. To the women of Colonel Campbell's household Alice relinquished her own little bedroom, the only corner of the house that was not already filled to overflowing. She drew the curtain, that the afflicted ones need not witness the skirmishing in the fields and lane below. But a loud shriek soon recalled her to their side. Mary Campbell had withdrawn the curtain, and seen her husband fall, thrust by a dozen wounds. Fainting fits and hysterics succeeded each other in quick succession, while Alice and her mother laid her on the bed, and rubbed her hands and bathed her temples. Gradually the sounds of war died away in the distance. Then Joseph and his helpers went forth to gather up the wounded and the dead. Colonel Campbell was found utterly lifeless, and the brook where Camillo used to launch their little boats was red with his father's blood. They brought him in tenderly, washed his ghastly wounds, closed the glaring eyes, and left the widoiv and her household to mourn over him. Late in the night they persuaded her to go to rest ; and, when all was still, the weary family fell asleep on the floor, for not a bed was unoccupied. This time they hoped to escape the conqueror's rage, but early in the morning a party of them came back and demanded that all the patriots should be given up to them.

Joseph replied, as he had before : ' I cannot give up my helpless and dying neighbors, whether they be patriots or loyalists ; I will do good to all and harm to none, come to me what may.' ' That is impartial, anyhow,' said the captain. He took some cockades of peculiarly-colored ribbons from his pocket, and added, ' wear them, and my men will not harm you.'

' I cannot conscientiously wear one,' replied Joseph, because they are emblematic of war.'

The captain laughed half-scornfully, and, handing one to Alice, said : ' Well, my good girl, you can wear one, and then you need not be afraid of our soldiers.'

She looked very pleasantly in his face, ' I should be afraid if I did not trust in something better than a cockade.'

... The leader of the loyalists was arrested by the same spell that stopped the leader of the former corps. But some of his followers, who had been lingering about the door, called out, ' What is the use of parleying ? Isn't the old traitor nursing rebels to fight us again when they get well ? If he won't serve the Government by lighting for us, he will at least do to stop a ball as well as a braver man. Bring him out, and put him in the front rank to be shot at ! ' One of them seized Joseph to drag him away ; but Alice laid a trembling hand on his arm, and said, beseechingly, ' Before you take him, come and see the wounded men, with their wivets and children whom my father and mother have tended night and day.' A pale figure, with bandaged head, and one arm in a sling, came forth from an adjoining room, and said, ' Warriors, you surely will not harm these worthy people. They have fed our children and buried our dead, as if we were their own brothers.' The soldiers listened, and, suddenly changing their mood, went off, shouting, ' Hurrah for the Quakers ! ' Some days of comparative peace followed. Colonel Campbell was buried in his own garden, with as much deference to the wishes of his widow as circumstances would permit. She returned from the funeral calmer than she had been, and quietly assisted in taking care of the wounded. But when she retired to her little room and saw a crucifix fastened on the wall at the foot of her bed, she burst into tears, and said, ' Who has done this ? '

Alice gently replied, ' I did it. I found it in the mud where the little chapel used to stand. I know it is a sacred emblem to thee ; so I have washed it carefully and placed it in thy room.' The bereaved Catholic kissed the friendly hand that had done so kindly a deed ; and tears fell on it, as she murmured, ' Good child, may the Madonna bless thee ! '

Success alternated between the contending parties, and kept the country in a state of perpetual alarm. One •veek the widow of Colonel Campbell was surrounded by victorious friends, and the next week she was in terror of her life. At last, Camillo himself came with a band of successful patriots. During a brief and agitated interview with his mother he learned how kindly she had been sheltered in their neighbor's house, and how tenderly the remains of his father had been treated. .When she pointed to the crucifix on the wall, and told its history, his eyes filled with tears. 'Oh ! why cannot we of different faiths always treat each other thus ? was his inward thought, but he bowed .his head in silence. Hearing loud voices, he started up suddenly, ex-

claiming, ' There may be danger below.' Following the noise, he found soldiers threatening Friend Goodman, who stood with his back firmly placed against the door of an inner room. Seeing Camillo enter, and being aware of the great influence his family had with the patriots, he said, ' These men insist on carrying out the dying loyalists who are sheltered here.'

The young man took his hand, and, in tones of deep respect, answered, ' Could you believe that I would suffer violence to be done to any under your roof if I had the power io prevent it ? ' Then, turning to his soldiers, he said, ' These excellent people have injure*! no one. Through ali these troubled times they have been kind alike to patriot and loyalist ; they have buried our dead and sheltered our widows. If you have any respect for the memory of my father, treat with respect all who wear the peaceful garb of the Quakers.' The men spoke apart for awhile, and soon. after left the house.

As Camillo passed by the kitchen door, he saw Alice distributing boiled potatoes to a crowd of hungry children. A soldier stood by her, insisting that she should wear some emblem whereby the patriots were known, and which he offered her. She mildly replied. ' I cannot consent to wear it, for it would seem a distrust in God.' 'The rude fellow, who was somewhat intoxicated, touched her under the chin, and said, ' Come, lady, do be a little more obliging.' Camillo instantly seized his arm, and exclaimed, ' Behave decently, my lad ; behave decently ' As he went, he turned towards Alice with an expression she never forgot, and said in low, deep tones, • Words are poor to thank you for what you have done for my mother.'

The'next day, when he met Alice walking to meeting, he touched his hat respectfu,ly, and said, ' I scarcely daem it prudent for you to be in the roads at this time, Miss Alice. Armed men are everywhere abroad ; and though there is a prevailing disposition not to in^ureithe Quakers, still many of our men are too desperate to be always controlled.' She, smiled and answered, ' I thank thee for .thy friendly caution ; but .1 trust in the Power that has hitherto protected me.' After a short pause he said, ' Your place of meeting is two miles from here. Where is the horse you used to ride ? ' ' A soldier took it from me as I rode from meeting, several weeks ago,' she replied. 1 You see, then, it is as I have said, unsafe for you to go,' he rejoined. ' Had you not better turn? ' With great earnestness she answered, ' Friend Camillo, I cannot otherwise than go. Our people are afflicted and bowed down. The soldiers have nearly consumed our provisions. Our women are almost worn out with the fatigue of constant nursing and perpetual alarms. All are not unwavering in their faith. It is the duty of the strong to sustain the weak , and, therefore, it is needful that we meet together for counsel and consolation ' The young man looked at her with affectionate reverence The fair complexion and shining ringlets of childhood were gone, but a serene and deep expression of soul imparted a more elevated beauty to her countenance. He parted from her with a blessing, simply and fervently uttered ; but he entered the adjoining fields, and as he walked along he kept her" within sight until she arrived safely at the place of meeting. While he thus watched her unseen, he recollected how often his sense had been offended by the quaint awkwardness of the Quaker garb, and uttering aloud the sequel to his thoughts, he said, ' But 'beautiful and graceful will her garments be in heaven.' Soon after this interview he departed with a strong escort to convey his mother and other Catholic women into a less turbulent district. Alice bade them farewell with undisguised sadness ; for we learn to love those whom we serve, and there seemed little probability that they would ever return to reside in that neighborhood. The next time she saw Camillo he was brought into her father's house on a litter, senseless and wounded, and it was supposed unto death. All the restoratives they could think of were applied, and, at last,, as Alice bent over him, bathing his temples, he opened his eyes with a dull, unconscious stare, which gradually relaxed into a feeble smile, as he whispered, ' My Quaker !ady-bird.' Some hours afterwards, when she brought him drink, he gently pressed her hand and said, ' Thank you, dear Alice.' The words were simple, but the expression of his eyes and the pressure of his hand sent a thrill through the maiden, which she had never before experienced. That night she dreamed of winged children seen through flowering vines, and Camillo laughed when the parrot called her ' Lady-bird.' Sorrow, like love, levels all distinctions, and melts all forms in its fiery furnace. In the midst of sickiess and suffering, and every-day familiarity with death, there was small attention paid to customary proprieties. No one heeded whether Camillo was tended by Alice or her

mother ; but if Alice was long absent he complained that she came so seldom. As his health improved they talked together of the flowers they used to plant on the mossy rock, and the little boats they launched on the rippling brook. Sometimes, in their merriest moods, they mocked the laughing of the old green parrot and the cooing of the fan-tailed doves. Thus walking through the green lanes of their childhood, they came unconsciously into the fairyland of love ! All was bright and golden there, and but one shadow rested on the sunshine. When Camillo spoke of the ' little meeting-house in the garden,' and the image of 'my donny,' she grew very thoughtful, and he said, with a sigh, • I wish, dear Auce, that we were of one religion.' She smiled sweetly, as she answered, ♦ 1 will be of your religion, dear Camillo.'

He kissed her hand, and said, ' Your soul is alwayf large and liberal and noble and kind ; but others are not like you, Alice.'

And truly, when the war had ceased, and Camillo Campbell began to rebuild his demolished dwelling, and the young couple spoke of marriage, great was the consternation in both families. Even the liberal-minded Joseph was deeply pained to have his daughter ' marry out of the Society,' as their phrase is ; but he strove to console Rachaei, who was far more afflicted than himself. ' The young people love each other,' he said, • and it does not seem to be right to put any constraint on their affection. Camillo is a good youth, and I think the dreadful scenes he has lately witnessed have exercised his mind powerfully on the subject of war. I have ooserved that he is thoughtful and candid ; and if he does but act up to his own light, it is all I ask of him.'

When Camillo spoke of it to his mother, she at first objected, but, on his representing to her the many kind ollices they had received from the Quaker family, she threw herself weeping into Camillo's arms, and said, ' Truly they did treat us like disciples of Christ. I said to Alice, " May the Madonna bless thee " ; and I now say, from my heart, may the Madonna bless you both, my son.'—' St. Patrick's. 1