The Measure of a Man | Page 6

His ear as the song of praise. Your song is among the
looms, and mine is among the winds and waves, but they are both the
same, sir. It is all right. I'm sure I'm satisfied."
"How you do love the sea, Captain!"
"To be sure, I was born on it and, please God, I hope my death may be
from it and my grave in it, nearby some coast where the fisher-folk live
happily around me."
There was a few moments' silence, then John Hatton asked, "Are we
likely to have fine weather now?"
"Yes, sir, middling fine, until we pass Peterhead. At Aberdeen and
southward it may be still finer, and you might have a grand sail along
the east coast of Scotland and take a look at some of its famous towns."
This pleasant prospect was amply verified. It was soon blue seas and
white sea-birds and sunny skies, with a nice little whole-sail breeze in
the right direction. But John was not lured by any of the storied towns
of the east coast. "What time I can now spare I will give to Edinburgh,"
he said, in answer to the Captain's suggestion concerning St. Andrews,
Aberdeen, Anstruther and Largo. "I am straight for Edinburgh now. I
feel as if my holiday was over. I heard the clack of the looms this
morning. They need me, I dare say. I suppose we can be in Leith harbor
by Saturday night, Captain?"
"It may be Sunday, sir, if this wind holds. It is an east-windy
west-windy coast, and between here and Edinburgh the wind doesn't
know its own mind an hour at a time."
"Well, then, say Sunday. I will stay a few days in Edinburgh, and then
it must be Whitby and home."

It was Sunday afternoon when the yacht was snug in Leith harbor, and
the streets of Edinburgh were full of congregations returning home
from the different churches. He went to an hotel on Prince Street and
ordered a good dinner spread in his sitting-room. It was a large
outlooking apartment, showing him in the glorious sunset the Old
Town piled as by a dreamer, story over story, and at the top of this
dream-like hill, the gray ancient castle with bugles and the roll of
drums sounding behind its ramparts. Bridges leaped across a valley
edged with gardens connecting the Old Town with the New Town.
Wherever his eyes fell, all was romance and memories of romance, a
magically
Towered, templed Metropolitan, Waited upon by hills, River, and
wide-spread ocean; tinged By April light, or draped and fringed As
April vapor wills. Hanging like some vast Cyclops' dream High in the
shifting weather gleam.
After dinner he sat at the open window, thinking of many things, until
he finally fell asleep to dream of that illuminated vault in the castle, in
which glitters mysteriously the crown and scepter of the ancient kings
and queens of Scotland.
Into the glamour of this vision there came suddenly a dream of his
mother, and his home, and he awakened from it with an intense
conviction that his mother needed his presence, and that he must make
all haste to reach his home. In half an hour he had paid his bill and
taken a carriage for Leith harbor, and the yacht was speeding down the
Firth ere the wan, misty daylight brightened the colorless sea. The
stillness of sea and sky was magical and they were a little delayed by
the calm, but in due time the wind sprang up suddenly and the yacht
danced into Whitby harbor.
Then John parted from Captain Cook, saying as he did so, "Good-bye,
Captain. We have had a happy holiday together. Get the yacht in order
and revictualed, for in two weeks my brother Henry may join you. I
believe he is for the south."
"Good-bye, sir. It has been a good time for me. You have been my

teacher more than my master, and you are a rich man and I am a poor
one."
"A man's a man for all that, Captain."
"Well, sir, not always. Many are not men in spite of all that. God be
with you, sir."
"And with you, Captain." Then they clasped hands and turned away,
each man where Duty called him.
CHAPTER II
THE PEOPLE OF THE STORY
Slowly, steadily, to and fro, Swings our life in its weary way; Now at
its ebb, and now at its flow, And the evening and morning make up the
day.
Sorrow and happiness, peace and strife, Fear and rejoicing its moments
know; Yet from the discords of such a life, The clearest music of
heaven may flow.
Duty led John Hatton to take the quickest road to Hatton-in-Elmete, a
small manufacturing town in a lovely district