Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 July 1875 — “ MILLER OF THE DEE.” [ARTICLE]

“ MILLER OF THE DEE.”

BY “SQUID SCOTCH.”

Cap without a brim; long neck without a collar; coat-sleeves too short for his arms; legs too long for his pants; patched knees; patched elbows; boots three sizes too large, yet they swung independently and tapped the time correctly on the great horse-block on which he sat while he whistled and sang alternately the “Miller of the Dee:” I envy nobody, no, not I, And nobody envies me. Ed Long was in front of a small country tavern, an old-fashioned one with swinging sign of “Entertainment for Man and Beast.” There was a scant bundle by liis side. He was leaning upon a rough stick that had served to balance his bundle upon his shoulder. His heart seemed happier than his forlorn appearance warranted. As the words rang out the second time, “Ha! ha! ha!” came from a foppish-looking youth standing in the tavern door, his cigar daintily poised between the first and second linger# of his right hand, -while those of liis left smoothed, as he thought, l*.is stunning necktie. “ Who do you s’pose’d envy you, my seedling?” he asked. “ You might, sir,” was the reply. “Me?” “ Yes, you.” “ Who are you that you dare to speak to me in this way ? Me, a gentleman.” He resumed his cigar, shook down his tight pants, planted his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and strode up and down the sidewalk“l am a poor ladfsir, who has just lost his only and best friend, his mother ;” Ed drew his sleeves across his eyes; “ but -I am honest and willing to work, and mean to make my way in the world.” Ed whistled in low, silvery notes. “ Well, now, really, you think you are some pumpkins' don’t you? Shouldn’t wonder if you’d get to lie President of these United States some day. Ha! ha! ha!” “Perhaps I, shall.” Ed, undaunted, Bang: This is a difficult riddle, For how many people we see With faces as long as a fiddle That ought to be shining with glee. 1 am sure in this world there are plenty Of good things enough for us all; And yet there’s not one dut of twenty But thinks that his share is too small. Then what is the use of repining, For where there’s a will there’s a way, And to-morrow the sun may be shining, Although it is cloudy to-day. rs- “ I declare for it, you’re a merrv kid, sure. Say, what’ll you take for that ’ere suit o’ clothes you got on ?” “ Can’t spare ’em yet till I get some better.” “Ha ! ha ! ha !” laughed Mr. Snipp, again. " / There had been a listener to this conversation. A gentleman stepped out of the door and accosted the boy: “ What is your name?” “Ed Long, sir,” taking his piece of a cap and rising to his feet, “ I came from the village of P to find a boy to make fires and do odd jobs about the Store. Would you like to go?” “ Oh, yes, sir, if you would only: try me*’’ Ed’a hands-were clasped anil 149

. eyes pleading. “My mother was sick a j long time, sir, and it was all we could do to get medicine for her and something to eat: that is why I am so shabby; but you’ll find me willing to work.” Ed looked disconsolately at his tattered clothes. “ We’ll make that all right,” said Mr. Grant, kindly adding: “ You do not know of. a voung man I could get to clerk for me. do vou ?” .. 1 Mr. nnipps broke in: “ See here, stranger, I’m just the one for you; liail three years’ experience in Boston; just came out here to rusticate and look up a job. I’d a sight rather be in the country.” Mr. Grant surveyed the young gentleman doubtfully, lie didn’t like his striped pants, nor his red waistcoat, nor his green necktie. r He didn’t like the way he talked to the boy, either. Mr. Grant sard simply: “ I will let you know in an hour.” 'Then to the boy: “ Come with me.” They walked' up the street. Ed told his story —his father’s death when he was five years old; his mother’s struggles to keep her boy until her death. Then he went to live with an uncle whose wife was so unkind to him that his uncle told him he had better start out and try and take care of himself. He had walked twenty miles without finding anything to do, but lie was not'disheartened, for we found him cheerily singing, friendless as he was. Mr. ferant did not question himself at all when he bought the lad a suit of clothes. He bad penetration to see that lie was only changing him in appearance; that be had a nobie soul, and for life, already, a purpose. Mr. Grant did not find another young man as he hoped. He was very much in need of help; summer was coming on, and with the warm weather customers needed their supplies. He took Mr. Snipps on trial. That young gentleman made it very unpleasant for Ed, ordering him about and putting much upon him he ought to have done himself; but the boy w histled and sang and won his employer’s heart more and more. Like a bombshell in their midst came the news that a large fortune in California had been left to Mr. Snipps. How quickly he threwwork aside! No more work or study for him, not he! Ed mused upon these things; he could not quite understand why Mr. Snipps had so much and lie so little—a question that has troubled older heads. He was not unhappy; indeed, his. condition so much improved that lie was soon more than filling Mr. Snipps’ place, so Mr. Grant assured him. Word came, from time to time, of the fine style in which Mr. Snipps was living; fine houses, carriages, horses, a display of the most costly and elegant in all things. Then a decade of years passed. One morning Mr. Long—we must call the fineappearing gentleman —was just taking down the shutters from the same little store in P . There had been a change in the sign; that was all. It used to read: R. E. GRANT. Now'it was: GRANT & LONG. Mr. Long was not only a partner in the store, but had taken Mr. Grant’s only daughter for his life-partner. By liis honesty and faithfulness he earned his place. He was doing a good business and was satisfied to cling to old songs, so it was no wonder that on this particular morning, when the air was swe’et with June roses and syringas, he should be singing:

There dwelt a miller, hale and bold, Beside the River Dee; He worked and sang from morn to night, No lark more blithe than he^ And this, the burden of his sbng Forever used to be : “ I envy nobody, no, not I, And nobody envies me.” “Thou’rt wrong, my friend, though it isn’t King Hal that says it this time.” Mr. Long turned "and saw standing in tlie doorway a tall, sad, pale-faced young man. “Ycu don’t know me. Well, it is no wonder, Miller of the Dee—or, rather, Mr. Long. You see what money has done for me. I’m only a wreck of a man. I’m ruined, body and soul; money has done it. My home is-broken up, my wife deserted me—all through the misuse of money. Yes, misuse; and now, although I’m rich, still don’t you think I’d gladly change with thee ? Ah! I learned that song by heart, hoping to sing it as you sing it; but I never could.” Tlie poor man paused, panting for breath. “Is it?—it cannot be, Augustus Snipps!” gasped Mr. Long, reaching out his hand to the stranger. “ It is no other,” came feebly. “Come in and tell me what brought you here.” Mr. Lon" gave the invalid a chair. “ Well, I’ve been traveling to drown sorrow and regain my health. I shall never do either in this world. I was stopping in the city. I could not resist running down here to see what had become of you and Mr. Grant. I’ve found you just as I thought I should —you were such a different boy from me. You started right and I started wrong. I’ve thought of vou many times, always happy as the ‘ Miller of the Dee.’ ” A severe paroxysm of coughing came on and almost exhausted Mr. Snipps. Mr. Grant was greatly surprised and shocked at the great change. Thfcy took the sick man. to their home. He grew rapidly worse. In that Christian home a happy change came to him —a sweet peace to his soul. “Now let me die, for lam not strong enough to live.” So he passed from earth. He willed all his property to Mr. Long, who was content to live in the village. He spent his money freely whereever good could be done. Soon a new church replaced the old, then a library was founded—donations from this good man. - Such men as thou are England’s boast, • O Miller of the Dee. — lnterior.