Part 41 (1/2)

”We shall have a rare family gathering when we all meet, Old Crow, Deborah, and all,” said Betty. ”There'll be fayther, and our John, and our Sammul, and our Jacob, and our Deborah, and Old Crow, and little Sammul, and the babe. We must get the squire to build us another cottage.”

”Ah, Betty, my own sister,” said Samuel, ”it does my heart good to hear your voice once more. Add now I want fayther to tell his tale. I want to know all about the flitting, and the black and red letters, and all, and how you came to light on this lovely spot.”

Johnson raised himself in his chair, and prepared to speak. What a wondrous change Christian total abstinence had made in his whole appearance. The prominent animal features had sunk or softened down, the rational and intellectual had become developed. He looked like a man, G.o.d's thinking and immortal creature now; before, he had looked more like a beast, with all that was savage intensified by the venom of perverted intelligence. Now he sat up with all that was n.o.ble in his character s.h.i.+ning out upon his countenance, specially his quiet iron determination and decision, in which father and son were so much alike.

And there was, hallowing every line and look, that peace which pa.s.seth understanding, and which flows from no earthly fountain.

”Sammul, my lad,” he said, ”G.o.d has been very good to me, for I can say, 'This my son was lost, and is found.' He's given me a cup brimful of mercies; but the biggest of all is, he's sent us our Sammul back again.

But I will not spin out my tale with needless talk, as you'll be impatient to know all about our flitting. You'll remember Ned Brierley?”

”Ay, well enough,” said his son.

”Well, Ned were my best friend on earth, for you must know it were he as got me to sign the pledge. That were arter I got well arter the explosion. Ye heard of the explosion?”

”Yes,” replied Samuel; ”I heard on it arter I left Langhurst.”

”It were a marvellous mercy,” continued his father, ”as I were spared.

I'd halted rather 'tween two opinions afore, but when I left my sick-bed I came forward, and signed. Then Ned Brierley and all the family flitted, for the mayster'd given him a better shop somewhere in Wales.

That were a bad job for me. I'd a weary life of it then. I thought some of my old mates 'ud a torn me in pieces, or jeered the very life out of me. Then, besides, you were not come back to us; and I were very down about your poor mother, so that I were casting about to see if I couldn't find work somewhere at a distance from Langhurst, where I could make a fresh start. It were in the November arter the explosion that same total abstinence chap as got yourself to sign came to our house, and axed me to tell my experience at a meeting as was to be held in Langhurst on the twenty-third of the month. I'd sooner have had nothing to do wi't, but our Betty said she thought I were bound to speak for the good of the cause, so I told the gentleman as I would. Now, you may just suppose as my old mates at the 'George' were in a fury when they heard of this, and some on 'em were resolved to sarve me out, as they called it, though I'd done 'em no harm. So they meets at Will Jones's house, a lot on them, and makes a plot to get into our house the night afore the meeting, and scratch my face over with a furze bush while I was asleep, and rub lamp-black and gunpowder all over my face, so as I shouldn't be able for shame to show myself at the meeting. But it so happened as Will Jones's lad John were under the couch-chair, hiding away from his fayther, all the time they was arranging their plans, and he heard all as they was saying. So Will Jones's wife Martha sends the lad to tell our Betty when the men was gone. She'd promised not to say anything herself, but that didn't bind the lad, so he came and told.

What were we to do? Why, just the right thing were being ordered for us. Do ye remember old Job Paynter, the bill-sticker?”

”Ay, for sure I do,” replied Samuel. ”He were a good Christian man, and a thorough total abstainer.”

”You're right there, Sammul,” said his father; ”now old Job's uncle to our John here. I'd seen a good deal of old Job of late. He'd taken to me and our Betty, and used often to call and have a cup of tea with us.

He knowed how I wished to get away from Langhurst; and one night he says to me, 'I've a nephew, John Walters, down at Fairmow, in Shrops.h.i.+re.

He's one of the right sort. I heard from him a while since as his squire wants a steady man to overlook a small colliery as he's got on his estate. The man as is there now's taken to drinking, so the squire's parting with him in December. Would you like me to mention yourself to my nephew?' You may be sure, Sammul, I were very thankful for the chance. But it wasn't chance--the word slipped out of my mouth; but I've done with chance long since--it were the Lord's doing. So old Job wrote to our John about it, and the end were, the squire offered the place to me. I got Job to keep it quite snug, for I didn't want my old mates to know anything about it. This were all settled afore I'd agreed to speak at the meeting. So when we found, from Martha Jones's lad, what my old mates was up to, I talked the matter over with old Job Paynter, and we hit upon a plan as'd just turn the tables on 'em, and might do 'em some good. It were all arranged with our John as we should be at liberty to come to his cottage here till the place were ready for me at the colliery. Then Job and I talked it over, and it were settled as our Betty should go to her aunt's at Rochdale, and take all her things with her, and meet me on the twenty-third of November at Stockport. Job was to come to our house on the twenty-second. So, a little afore nine, he slips in when it were very dark, and brings a lot of old letters with him ready cut out, and some paste. You must know as he'd a large quant.i.ty of old posters by him as had been soiled or torn.

So he cuts what black letters he wants out of these, and some red 'uns too, enough to make the two texts, 'No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of G.o.d,' and 'Prepare to meet thy G.o.d.' Then Job and me goes quietly up-stairs, and I holds the candle while he pastes the words on the chamber-floor. Then we rolls up some old bits of stuff into a bundle, and lays 'em on my bed, and puts the old coverlid over 'em.

Then Job and me leaves the house, and locks the door; and that, Sammul, is last I've seen of Langhurst.”

”And what about the thunder and lightning as scorched out the letters?”

asked Samuel.

”Only an old woman's tale, I'll be bound,” said his father. ”You may be sure the next tenant scoured 'em off.”

”And now,” said John Walters, ”it comes to my turn. Father and Betty came down to our house on the twenty-third of November. My dear mother was living then. I was her only son. I was bailiff then, as I am now, to Squire Collington of the Hall up yonder. Father worked about at any odd jobs I could find him till his place were ready for him, and Betty took to being a good daughter at once to my dear mother. She took to it so natural, and seemed so pleased to help mother, and forget all about herself, that I soon began to think, 'If she takes so natural to being a good daughter, she'll not find it hard maybe to learn to be a good wife.' And mother thought so too; and as Betty didn't say, 'No,' we were married in the following spring.”

”Yes, Sammul,” said Betty, laughing and crying at the same time; ”but I made a bargain with John, when we swopped hearts, as I were to leave a little bit of mine left me still for fayther and our Sammul.”

Thomas Johnson looked at the whole group with a face radiant with happiness, and then said,--

”The Lord bless them. They've been all good childer to me.”

”We've always gotten the news of Langhurst from Uncle Job,” said Betty.

”He settled with the landlord about our rent, and our few odd bits of things; and he was to send us any letter as came from yourself.”

”And so you've been here ever since?”