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LANG-tilli-ing-clang-clang rang, Martin's severe voice cut the stray fragrang the anvil in Martin Har- ment of silence with this command:
vey's forge. The air was heavy “There's steel to be drawn to-day!" with soft coal smoke and the odor of Bernard dragged his lame body back burning hoofs. Bernard Carroll wilted to the forge to take his part in the before the fire while one limp arm op- testing of the metal. His aching eyes erated the bellows which sent blue, yel- watched the black bars grow red and low and vermillion flames bursting white under the pressure of the inVesuvius-like through the soft black tense heat. The bars that bent and mound. While the mass grew slowly the bars that remained rigid stirred red, his mind recalled the day, three within him a mental rebellion. Why months before, when he had reluctantly should men have to writhe before a accompanied his mother to the black- flaming forge in order to prove the smith's door, where, clear through the character of the ore that the earth din of rasps and the snorting of uneasy should have produced flawless and animals, her soft tones had voiced their ready for use? appeal: "Martin, 1 come to ask a favor Martin Harvey was singing to the from ye. Make a mechanic of my beat of the hammer. Bernard shudson!” The Vulcan of Pavington had dered at the joy in his master's voice brushed a scale of iron from his cheek and resolved to leave the sooty place with one brown knuckle, eyed him, and that week. One of the boats that turned to his mother.
moored in the Pavington dock would "He's light for the work, Missis bear him away to some distant spot Carroll, but I'll do me best by him!" where a more congenial field of labor
He would never forget that day and awaited him. His mother would his own reluctance in yielding to his hear this decision with keen disapmother's wish. Her years of toil to pointment. All this was fast making care for him and retain the little house the ring of the anvil seem like a and strip of land at the bend of the death knell to her hopes of his ever creek were vivid in his mind and his becoming a man of the forge. own desires must not matter. He Then, too, there was someone else. would please her.
On a certain vine-clad porch a slender All the days that followed were · soft-haired girl had often promised him filled with keenest suffering for him. that she would wait until he was Continual hammering and the lifting master of his craft. That night he of weighty and reluctant horses' feet would tell her of his decision. Nellie strained new sets of muscles which Doane would be content until he could sent him limping slowly home at night. prepare a home better, brighter than He felt sometimes that he could not the brown and yellow cottage with the endure the pressure much longer. morning glory vines-he would build It was evening at the forge. The
The one finer than that some day-were his pale glow of the sinking sun was re reckless thoughts. So he planned as flected in minature by the smithy fire. the work of the day went on. The shop was at last clear of snorting "Mamsey dear, wherever did you get animals and Bernard sought out the this pretty gingham?” Nellie Doane nail bench for a moment's rest, but held the fabric at arm's length and it
fell from its accustomed folds in rip- sowing a patch onto his blue flannel ples to the floor.
shirt. "I bought it at Kline's. Ain't it "You're home early, son!” she said, grand? I'm going to make a guimpe as he hung his coat on the door. dress of it for you-the lawn for the "Yes! I'm tired," he replied, and guimpe is here, too. Walter Clay felt for the couch. waited on me. He says that guimpes "Were you hard pushed to-day?" she are the latest fashion and that kind of asked, sympathetically. gingham is all the rage in New York. “No, not very hard pushed. I ain't Walter is so accommodating. He asked tired that way, mother. It's just my for you, Nellie, and when I invited him head that's tired." to call he just jumped at it and said “Mebbe it's the malaria you're gethe'd be here this evening.”
tin”. That shop of Harvey's ain't The girl crumpled the gingham in healthy. The air don't get in the back five nervous fingers. “But, mother, part of it at all. Won't it be fine Bernard is coming this evening!" when you've learned your trade and I
Mrs. Doane tossed her head violently can build you your own place down --so violently that one of her ladder where the potato patch is now! Then earrings caught in her hair.
you can have the breezes of the river “Now, Nellie! This has gone far blowing in on you all day. Oh, I'll be enough! If you think I will let you glad of that time, Bernard, when it make a fool of yourself over a black comes !" She patted the patched shirt smitli's helper, you're mistaken. The and folded it, then reached for the very idea!” The earring was freed and stocking basket. the active woman, seizing the crum Bernard's eyes were on the ceiling. pled gingham, began to refold it. “The His mother clearly counted on his idea of slighting a young man that's learning the trade. Ah! well, after all, so refined for a poor
what was to hinder him? No ache or don't know what to make of you!" pain or weariness caused by his labor
There a pathetic droop of could compare with what he felt that Nellie's frail shoulders as she left the night. He turned his face to the wall and living room and climbed the narrow lay there, dry eyed, waiting for sleep. flight of stairs to the second floor,
One warm day the doors of Martin where the shoulders drooped some
Harvey's shop were left open. Passersmore and salt tears fell upon the pine- by gazed curiously and admiringly on apple coverlet of the spare bed. the square shouldered, eager youth, When, a few hours later, Bernard
who stood answering Harvey's blows Carroll raised the latch of the Doane's on the red iron with his own graceful gate Mrs. Doane was on the porch. strokes. When the anvil work was
“Nellie ain't home. She went out done Bernard happened to look out and walking with Mr. Clay!” The woman's
saw Walter Clay, the pale dry-goods mouth set hard, and she rocked the clerk, standing in front of the shop, willow chair until the back of it struck stroking his ragged yellow moustache the window shutter.
with a thin forefinger. The rage within As Bernard turned back to the street him prompted Bernard to pick up a Nellie raised the sash of the upper rasp, but he dropped it and went on story window. He caught sight of her. with his work and Clay moved slowly
"Bernard !” she quivered, but her by. Bernard had often met him with voice did not reach him.
Nellie on their Sunday walks over the Bernard walked down the narrow high road. The first time he turned street, his head well back in order to
and would not pass them, but the next resist the choking in his throat. Blind time he found it easier to bow to the ly, almost numbly, he reached the gate girl. The pale blue necktie worn by and felt for the latch, then shuffled into Clay irritated Bernard. All the little the living room of his home. There, dandyisms of the fellow seemed deunder the lamplight sat his mother, spicable to him,
As he left the shop that evening Bernard supported him to a rock and, Nellie Doane came up to him and held taking his soft hat to the stream a few out a curiotis bit of shining metal. feet away, filled it with water and asked
“Bernard, won't you please wear clumsily: "Will I put some of it on this? It's a charm. It will keep you safe from those wicked horses !"
Without waiting for a reply he He looked down at the delicate out opened the collar and loosened the stretched fingers that held the talis- natty tie he had so often cursed. man and replied coldly, measuredly. In a short time Clay 'evived and said,
“Better give it to the dude in the quietly: “Never mind! Maybe you'll dry-goods store !"
listen to me now !!! The girl fushed and stammered: "He “Well! Go on!” doesn't need it, Bernard! He isn't in "The Manhattan lace works-of New danger every day."
York—are going to move up here--and Bernard squared his shoulders. “Oh, they've got their eye on your mother's yes he is! The cash carrier might fall place. They're getting the Clark Real on him some time !"'
Estate people to try to buy it for He walked away down a side street, them, just for a blind. smarting under his own unkindness. mother to make the price good and He was that sort. But then, why did steep because they want it bad-on acNellie act as she had ? Her cut had left count of the water.
There ain't any a mental scar that was slow to heal. more for me
You're level "I'll show her I can stand it! She headed enough to see it through. I needn't feel sorry for me!"
don't want to figure in it, because the "You're losing your color, boy," firm would find fault with me. Give me Martin Harvey said to Bernard, who a lift-I feel all in!" was lifting some heavy drills. “D'ye Bernard took hold of him and led think ye ought to take a rest?”
him up the road. Suddenly Clay Bernard swung the drills into a cor- stopped, and faced his late antagonist. ner and laughed. “I guess not. I rest
"Nellie Doane didn't drop you. It every night. That's enough for me!" was her ma!" he burst out abruptly. No more was said.
Bernard interrupted him sharply. Bernard's first year was at a close, “Stop! For God's sake! 1-". But and the thought of the other two had Clay was not to be silenced. no terror for him. He sought out extra
"Wait!” he cried. “Let me finish! work now as he had previously sought Nellie always thought a good deal of the nail bench on which to rest. you and does now. She's told me so a
That evening Bernard was returning hundred times. When this deal with from a walk over the high road, when the Manhattan Lace Works is put at the bottom of the incline he heard through, Mrs. Doane won't have any some one call his name. He looked fault to find with you. There! Now back. At his elbow stood Walter Clay, you know !" a smile gleaming through the ragged Bernard felt himself growing smaller moustache. The smouldering antag- every minute. He was only a bolt of onism of months burst into sudden black iron. Here was steel, fine and fury. Before he realized it his arm thin and ready to break—and it had shot out and the slender figure fell for- been drawn over a dry-goods counter, ward on the ground. For an instant through silk and other frail fabrics. Bernard stood rigid, then his muscular When they reached the gate Berarms reached down and raised his half- nard said: “Come in. I want you to stunned rival to his feet.
tell mother!" "Stand up! Stand up, for God's He raised the latch with one hand, sake!. Why did you get in my way? the other grasped Clay's shoulder. I couldn't help it!"
"Come," he said again, and his strong “Let me sit down!” Clay answered, arm gently forced his reluctant comfaintly.
panion into the house.
HUNTING WILD BEES IN THE VERMONT
By MARSHALL OTIS HOWE
T was a warm sunny day in early rod or gun, to which, also, in my boyspring: All the snow had disap- hood, I was much addicted; and more
peared except in the shady ravines humane, for the wild bees that I find on the north sides of the hills. A few are never robbed of their stores and weeks earlier I had heard the first the bees destroyed or left to perish, as glad notes of the robin and the blue was once the barbarous custom of beebird, and had waited for this day to hunters. I have a better way, the hear the sound of working bees. I result of which gave me at one time was traveling alone on little-fre more than seventy-five swarms of bees, quented road that led around the side all of them in modern frame hives, and of one of the Vermont hills—a road all descended from wild bees or with a border of rank growing hedges brought directly from the woods. Is —when I paused to listen to a sound not this an entirely justifiable “benevoof low, sweet music that seemed lent assimilation," whatever may be come from a clump of near-by willows. said of another. But the bees do not The willows were in full bloom, and see it in that light. They defend their the yellow pollen-dust was shaken natural homes with reckless bravery, from the catkins at the slightest touch. using the fearful weapon that Nature Here were a dozen or more bees bus has provided them. They have the ily at work, making the sound which I intelligence, however, to see when rehad waited to hear for the first time sistance is useless, and submit to the this season. They were all on a single inevitable, probably without a suscluster of willows, each one accom picion that they are to be furnished panying its labors with music as it with a more fashionable house and inpassed busily from flower to flower in itiated into the ways of civilized bees. search of pollen or honey. The sound In describing a fox hunt on one of ceases only for an instant, when the the old English estates, and referbee rests on
a flower, with closed ring to the sound of baying hounds, wings, to sip honey, or sometimes to George Eliot says: "Strange that one adjust the pellets of pollen on its legs. of the sweetest sounds in nature should But while one rests others are in mo be thus associated with the pursuit and tion, making the sound from the wil- death of one of God's creatures." We lows continuous. There are few, if can hunt the honey bees and listen to any, whose sense of hearing is not one of the “sweetest sounds in Nature” pleasingly affected by the sound of the humming of the industrious bees at work.
workers without the disagreeable To me the sound is something more thought suggested by the quotation. than sweet music. It is like the bay. But we need not permit such thoughts ing of hounds to the enthusiast in the to trouble us too much, for the confict chase, for I am a bee-hunter. Hunt of Nature's forces is a part of Nature ing wild bees has been my standard herself. The fox pursues and kills, as recreation for many years, and I find he is himself pursued and killed. it more fascinating than the use of the One of the qualifications of a bee