The Friendly Road: New Adventures in Contentment

e, how small th

turdy farmer had asked me when I came out of the

n as adroitly as I could, "I'll mak

m into his fine,

my wife,"

cing me. "Oh!" she exc

I first came to my farm. She had grown up, married, and had borne three children, while I had been

ur sister and

sit, she made breakfast for me, a

news that old Mr

, dropping my fork;

my uncle. Did

than Toomb

spare time, I think, was spent in discussing Nathan Toombs. I was not able to get him out of my m

e. I had taken to spending my spare evenings-the long evenings of summer-in exploring the country roads for miles around, getting acquainted with each farmstead

ame quite suddenly around a turn in the road and s

erie, a living, green menagerie! I had no sooner seen it than I began puzzling my brain as to whether one of the curious ornaments into wh

imilitude of towers, pinnacles, bells, and many other strange designs. Here and there the hedge held up a spindling umbrella of greenery, sometimes a double umbrella-a little one above the

too, I looked over at the house beyond-a rather bare, bleak house set on a slight knoll or elevation and guarded at one corner by a dark spruce tree. At some distance behind I saw a

ession I had as I turned back to take a final look at the hedge, the strange, grotesque aspect

, having learned of my interest, I found the whole countryside alive with stories about it and about

Toombs was apparently of that type of hard-shelled, grasping, self-reliant, old-fashioned farmer not unfamiliar to many country neighbourhoods. He had come of tough

ch Preacher, "but just-you

whom the Scotch Preacher could

orace, "but hard-hard,

d not see any such old fellow wasting his moneyed hours clipping bells, umbrellas, and camel's heads on his ornamental greenery. It left just that incongruity which

ge where he had loaned money to some less thrifty farmer, or he would extend his acres by purchase, hard cash down, or he would build a bigger barn. When any of these things happened the community would crowd over a little, as it were, to give him more room. It is a curious thing, and tragic, too, when you

his way with all his money, his acres, his he

o walking out toward his farm, looking freshly at the wonderful hedge and musing upon that m

o a single word, was, I think, force-force. He came stubbing down the country road with a brown hickory stick in his hand which at every step he set vigorously into the soft earth. Though not tall, he gave the impression of being enormously strong. He was thic

pair of curious spring-bowed glasses with black rims. For a moment he looked at me through these glasses, raising his chin a little, and then, deliberately wrinkling his nose, they fell off and dangled at the length of the faded cord by

d, "and I've been interested in

me a moment with a mingled lo

aid in a high-pitched voice,

cackling laugh, "I warrant you've heard nothing good o' me down there. I'm a skinf

humour, but as he continued to speak his voice rose

face the music. With a sudden sense of rising spirits-for such things do not often hap

had it. They do say you are a skinflint, yes, and a hard man. They say that you are rich and friendless; they say t

going to strike me with his stick, but he neither stirred

erested in your hedge. What I'm curious to know-and I might as well tell you frankly-is how such a man as

aside and looked for a moment along the proud and flaunting embattlem

ood hedge, a pu

thought exultant

start it?" I pursued

ears come spr

repeated; "you've be

he various notable-features of his wonderful creation. His suppressed excitement was quite wonderful to see. He would point his hickory stick with a poki

ll right," he said, and, "Take a look at th

ugh I perceived no change in him. It was only momentary, however, and he was soon as much interested as before. He talked as though he had not had such an opportunity before in years-and I doubt whether he had

ed as though one of the deep mysteries of human nature was openin

farther end of the hedge. Here the old

sked. "Do you see that slopin'

enly to a sort of h

there," he said, "want to b

is breath

nt to ruin my farm-they want to cut down my hedge.

grew red and angry-like the eyes of an infuriated boar. His hands shook. S

re you? Are you one of

rayson. I live on the old Mather farm. I am not in

e. He had taken only a few steps, however, before he turned, and, without looking at me, asked if I would like to see the tools he use

ing, I warrant, yo

d him, and he showed me an odd double ladder set on low wheels

nvention," he

lessons of any carpenter I ever see. And there's my barns. What do you think o' my barns? Ever see any bigger ones? They ain't an

uite loquacious. Even after I had thanked

the first time that he was an old man. It may have been the result of his sudden fierce

ke my hedge

hedge," I said. "I never

he responded, quickly. "The' a

gure of the old man moving with his hickory stick up t

live wholly to him

rking and laughter, of how we weep with one another, of how we join in making better roads and better schools, and building up

this in any mere material sense, though of course his wealth and his farm would mean no more than the stones in his hills to him if he did not have us here around him. Without our work, our buying, our selling, our governing, his dollars would be dust. But we are still more nec

s had been developing the rougher lands in the upper part of the townships called the Swan Hill district. Their only way to reach the railroad was by a rocky, winding road among the 'hills,' while their outlet was down a gently sloping valley through Old Toombs's farm. They were now so numerous and politically important that they had stirred up the t

have to do when they settled up there? What a passel o' curs

ith the town attempting to condemn the l

ply distressed by the bitterness of feeling displayed. "

ept dallying-for what, indeed, could I have said to him? If he had been suspicious of me before, how much more hostile he might be when I expressed an interest in his difficulties. A

premeditated, came about quite unexpectedly. I was walking in the town road late one afte

reins held fast in the fingers of one hand. I was struck by the strange expression in his fac

-he-he

dinarily when I meet any one in the town

How are you, brother?" but I

n," he said; "g

slapped me on the knee with an

starting up his horses. "They thought there

he bitter triumph

he road cas

t 'em. I says to 'em, 'What right hev any o' you on my property? Go round with you,' I s

remember I stood for some time watching the old man as he rode away, his wagon jolting in the country

are some things in this

o see the Scotch Preacher drive up t

of the young fellows in Swan Hill are planning a raid

out around Old Toombs's farm and thus came, near to the settlement.

ne another," said the Scotch Preac

is preaching that Doctor McAlway excels, but what a power he is among men! He was like some stern old giant, standing there and holding up the por

ad Scotch accent of his youth, "you canna' mean plunder, and

Toombs?" shouted

McAlway drew himself up nor the

he bone, "Old Toombs! Have you no faith, that you stand

idnight and we drove home, a

mbs could know the history of this ni

the Scotch Preac

acres and his wonderful hedge. He probably never even knew what had threatened him that night, nor how the forces of religion, of social order, of neighbourliness in the community which he despised had, after all, held h

the age of sixty-eight years, and came into new relationships with his neighbours, or else I shou

ngeniously related would somehow have answered a need in the human soul that the logic of e

esistible logic of events, but it is careless of the span of any one man's life. We would like to have each man enjoy the sweets of his own virtues and suff

ttle, collect more interest, and the wonderful hedge continued to flaunt its mar

mingly more incapable of friendliness. In times past I have seen what men call tragedies-I saw once a perfect young man die in his strength-but it seems to me I never knew anything more tragic than the life and dea

h, of whom it is terribly said in the Book of

e time by a driving spring rain which filled the valley with a pale gray mist and turned all the country roads into running streams. One morning, t