Darrel of the Blessed Isles | Page 9

a work in the world.
But, hear me, a man had two horses the same age, size, shape, an'
colour, an' one went for fear o' the whip, an' the other went as well
without a whip in the wagon. Now, tell me, which was the better
horse?"
"The one that needed no whip."
"Very well!" said the old man, with emphasis. "A man had two sons,
an' one obeyed him for fear o' the whip, an' the other, because he loved
his father, an' could not bear to grieve him. Tell me again, boy, which
was the better son?"
"The one that loved him," said the boy.
"Very well! very well!" said the old man, loudly. "A man had two
neighbours, an' one stole not his sheep for fear o' the law, an' the other,
sor, he stole them not, because he loved his neighbour. Now which was
the better man?"
"The man that loved him."
"Very well! very well! and again very well!" said the tinker, louder
than before. "There were two kings, an' one was feared, an' the other,
he was beloved; which was the better king?"
"The one that was beloved."
"Very well! and three times again very well!" said the old man, warmly.
"An' the good God is he not greater an' more to be loved than all kings?
Fear, boy, that is the whip o' destiny driving the dumb herd. To all that
fear I say 'tis well, have fear, but pray that love may conquer it. To all
that love I say, fear only lest ye lose the great treasure. Love is the best

thing, an' with too much fear it sickens. Always keep it with thee--a
little is a goodly property an' its revenoo is happiness. Therefore, be
happy, boy--try ever to be happy."
There was a moment of silence broken by the sound of a church bell.
"To thy prayers," said the clock tinker, rising, "an' I'll to mine. Dine
with me at five, good youth, an' all me retinoo--maids, warders, grooms,
attendants--shall be at thy service."
"I'll be glad to come," said the boy, smiling at his odd host.
"An' see thou hast hunger."
"Good morning, Mr. ---- ?" the boy hesitated.
"Darrel--Roderick Darrel--" said the old man, "that's me name, sor, an'
ye'll find me here at the Sign o' the Dial."
A wind came shrieking over the hills, and long before evening the little
town lay dusky in a scud of snow mist. The old stairs were quivering in
the storm as Trove climbed them.
"Welcome, good youth," said the clock tinker, shaking the boy's hand
as he came in. "Ho there! me servitors. Let the feast be spread," he
called in a loud voice, stepping quickly to the stove that held an upper
deck of wood, whereon were dishes. "Right Hand bring the meat an'
Left Hand the potatoes an' Quick Foot give us thy help here."
He suited his action to the words, placing a platter of ham and eggs in
the centre of a small table and surrounding it with hot roast potatoes, a
pot of tea, new biscuit, and a plate of honey.
"Ho! Wit an' Happiness, attend upon us here," said he, making ready to
sit down.
Then, as if he had forgotten something, he hurried to the door and
opened it.
"Care, thou skeleton, go hence, and thou, Poverty, go also, and see thou
return not before cock-crow," said he, imperatively.
"You have many servants," said Trove.
"An' how may one have a castle without servants? Forsooth, boy,
horses an' hounds, an' lords an' ladies have to be attended to. But the
retinoo is that run down ye'd think me home a hospital. Wit is a
creeping dotard, and Happiness he is in poor health an' can barely drag
himself to me table, an' Hope is a tippler, an' Right Hand is getting the
palsy. Alack! me best servant left me a long time ago."
"And who was he?"

"Youth! lovely, beautiful Youth! but let us be happy. I would not have
him back--foolish, inconstant Youth! dreaming dreams an' seeing
visions. God love ye, boy! what is thy dream?"
This rallying style of talk, in which the clock tinker indulged so freely,
afforded his young friend no little amusement. His tongue had long
obeyed the lilt of classic diction; his thought came easy in Elizabethan
phrase. The slight Celtic brogue served to enhance the piquancy of his
talk. Moreover he was really a man of wit and imagination.
"Once," said the boy, after a little hesitation, "I thought I should try to
be a statesman, but now I am sure I would rather write books."
"An' what kind o' books, pray?"
"Tales."
"An' thy merchandise be truth, capital!" exclaimed the tinker. "Hast
thou an