Читать книгу The Fighting-Slogan - H. A. Cody - Страница 8

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The morning sun beamed in through the frost-covered window and rested upon the head of a man bent over an open book lying upon the table. He was reading aloud the words "His dominion shall be from one sea to another." He repeated this line several times, with his attention especially centred upon the word "dominion." Then he raised his head, and the light upon his strong intellectual face was more than that caused by the rays of the sun. It was the outward expression of a great idea that was thrilling his soul by the words he had just read. His eyes resting upon the frosted window kindled with animation. He was a lover of the beautiful, but now in the scene before him he saw a meaning such as he had never noticed before. He beheld there the work of a mystic unseen artist, who with a touch lighter than the softest down had traced upon each common window pane pictures of matchless beauty. Forms he saw, fancies rich and rare, and visions such as old masters of renown had often sought to capture, but had always sought in vain. These fairy traceries, touched by the benignant sun, glowed and sparkled with an entrancing glory. They held spellbound the lone watcher, for to him they were symbols of wonderful things which he hoped would shortly come to pass.

Samuel Leonard Tilley was a worthy leader in a great Cause, but so far he had met with discouraging defeat. The land of his birth, stretching three thousand miles from sea to sea, was divided. Canada was not at unity with itself, for each province managed its own affairs, and cared little or nothing about its nearest neighbour. Such a condition was not conducive to the strength and prosperity of the entire body, nor of the various parts, and of this Mr. Tilley was well aware. He, together with a band of noble far-seeing men, desired to bring about a lasting union, so that the land would be one from the Atlantic Ocean on the east to the Pacific on the west, and from the Border line on the south to the unknown and mysterious regions of the north. For such a country to have one main government, with each province having its own rights and privileges, but all under one flag, and all firmly united to the Motherland across the sea, was the vision which inspired the minds and souls of the leaders of this great movement. Thus the union of Canada, or "Confederation" as it was generally termed, became the vital issue during the early sixties. Only the eastern provinces were involved in the struggle, for the vast sweeping prairies, and the Pacific slope beyond the Rocky Mountains were but little known.

After many meetings had been held, and much eloquence poured forth by numerous speakers, the Province of New Brunswick was chosen for the testing out of the scheme. The election was held in 1865 when the hope of union was crushed by an overwhelming majority. To many this seemed the death of the movement. But Mr. Tilley, the dauntless leader, was of a different mind. He reorganized his broken and scattered ranks, and started forth upon a new campaign of the entire province. He did not spare himself in the least degree, but gave addresses in cities, towns, and villages in his efforts to instruct the people. But nearly everywhere he met with strong opposition, and sometimes downright hostility. Notwithstanding his abounding optimism, he was almost forced to acknowledge that he could never win the battle for Confederation in his native province.

Such was the state of his mind as he sat in his study looking upon the frosted window. He had returned the previous evening from one of his trying lecture tours in the country, and he was unusually tired. But he had been greatly inspired by some words he had read that morning in the seventy-second psalm. There had been discussion for several years as to the name of the country should union come to pass. Various names had been suggested, an outstanding one being the "Kingdom of Canada." This, as well as the others, did not meet with general approval. Mr. Tilley had given the matter very earnest consideration, so when he came across the word "dominion" in the line he had just read, he knew that the question was solved so far as he was concerned. The "Dominion of Canada." It sounded well, and so appropriate—"His Dominion shall be from one sea to the other." And the great land must be His dominion, built upon true foundations, and filled with a God-fearing people.

And following this came the scene upon that frost-bespangled window. There he beheld beauty and harmony, section upon section, separated by delicate lines, and yet all wonderfully interwoven, with no discord to mar the complete perfection of the whole. It suggested to him the vision of what Canada should be, a land filled with people, all actively engaged in various pursuits, and yet all working in such a spirit of harmony and good-will that the dividing-lines would be as slight and as evanescent as the frosty filaments upon the glass before him. Such was Mr. Tilley's lofty ideal. But how could he bring it before the people of the province? So antagonistic were they that their eyes were blinded to their own good. Speeches such as had been given, seemed to have little effect. Arguments were all in vain. Something else was needed to arouse them, and to cause their eyes to be opened. What could be done? What further argument could he offer that would induce them to rise as one, rush forward and embrace the Cause that would lead to a glorious victory? He must have some new slogan, and where could he find one?

He rose to his feet and paced up and down the room. He was a fighter of no mean mettle, as his enemies had learned to their sorrow in his great battle against the liquor traffic a few years before. He naturally thought of that now, and the keen interest that had been aroused on all sides. He had a banner then, and a mighty slogan, which had proved most effective. But now he had apparently nothing to stem the tide of opposition. His opponents had raised the cry of "ruin and treachery." They had charged him with betraying and selling his country for eighty cents, the price of a sheepskin, and this ran like wildfire up and down the country. What could he do to counteract their lies and misrepresentations?

He returned to the table, sat down and buried his face in his hands. He had only a few minutes to spare in his quiet study ere leaving for his busy office down town. Here he could think and plan as nowhere else. But now he felt helpless. A knock upon the door aroused him. It was the maid who announced a visitor.

"Who is it?" Mr. Tilley inquired.

"I don't know, sir. He's a young man, and says he must see you at once."

"Some office-seeker, I suppose. But I can do nothing now. Anyway, send him in."

The next minute Drum Rowan entered, and walked at once across the room. Always courteous, Mr. Tilley rose to his feet and held out his hand. It was no formal grip that he gave, but a handshake that was an inspiration in itself.

"You don't know me, sir," Drum began, smiling at the keen searching expression in his leader's eyes. "I am Captain Rowan's son, Drum."

"Ah, now I remember," and Mr. Tilley's face brightened. "You have grown greatly since I saw you last. Pull up that chair and tell me about your father. He has been a good friend to me, and I wish I had more like him. Interested as ever, I suppose, in ships? It's too bad he is forced to stay on land when his heart is on the sea."

"Yes, my father does miss the water," Drum replied. "But he gets some pleasure in summer watching the boats upon the river, and in winter talking about his old sailing days. Just now, though, he is much taken up with the coming election. He is a great Confederation man, you know."

"Indeed I know it, my boy, and I wish there were more men of his stamp along the river. It is going to be a hard fight, and sometimes I am almost in despair of ever winning. I have spoken in all the cities and towns in the province and in many of the country places, but something more is needed to arouse the people. I am at my wit's end."

"They are more aroused, sir, over the Fenian scare than they are about Confederation," Drum declared. "Why, I know a number of people who can talk of nothing else. They expect the Fenians to burst upon them at any time. And I guess there is good reason for their fright. Read that," and Drum laid the piece of torn paper he had drawn from a pocket of his jacket upon the table.

Picking it up, Mr. Tilley began to read, and as he did so his eyes opened wide in amazement. His hands trembled with excitement, and when he had finished, he turned to his visitor.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded. "What have you done with the rest of the paper?"

As briefly as possible Drum told of the discovery he had made in the Valley of The Jaws, of the cabin, and the ammunition hidden in the cave in the rocky ledge.

"It was there I found that piece of paper," he said in conclusion. "I have brought it to you, thinking you might like to see it."

"You did perfectly right, young man. There is much talk, I know, about a threatened invasion of Canada, but I believed such a thing was ridiculous. Your discovery, however, and this scrap of paper, cause me to consider the matter in a new light. I knew that the Fenians had many of their Circles formed in this land, but I had no idea that they have gone so far in their preparations. Their boldness astonishes me. How do you suppose they managed to get so much ammunition there without the people in your neighbourhood knowing something about it?"

"It's a lonely place, sir, and seldom anyone goes there," Drum explained. "There is an old lumber-road down the valley to the river, and they must have brought in the ammunition over it. If the people up there knew about those supplies in the cave wouldn't they be scared. I believe that Tom and Bill Daggert would clear out at once. They are terribly afraid of the Fenians. I guess everybody will have to stop quarrelling about Confederation and unite to defend their country."

At these closing words Mr. Tilley jerked back his chair, rose quickly to his feet, and laid a firm right hand upon Drum's shoulder. He was unusually excited.

"You have suggested an idea to me, young man, of the greatest importance," he said. "I have been groping for some kind of a slogan to arouse the people of this province. And now I have it. They must unite to drive back the Fenians and save their country. And they will need the assistance of the other provinces. This threatened attack may fizzle out, as I sincerely hope it will. But it will be a warning to all that in order to defend Canada in case of any future trouble, there must be unity, and that will mean Confederation for which I have been striving. Young man, you have done a great thing to-day. You have given me a fighting-slogan."

His hand dropped from Drum's shoulder, and he paced rapidly up and down the room. His animated face, and the glow in his eyes told of his intense interest.

"Yes," he continued, more to himself than to his visitor, "this slogan of the Fenian raid will do more good than all the many speeches that have been given. It will open the eyes of all to the great necessity of union. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia will need the aid of Upper and Lower Canada as they will need ours. But without unity little can be done. I shall put it to the test, anyway, in the coming election."

He returned to the table, and sat for a few minutes lost in deep thought.

"Did you come down river this morning, Drum?" he at length questioned.

"Yes, on the ice. The skating is good."

"Have you told anyone about your discovery?"

"You are the first one, sir."

"That is well. We must keep the secret between us for a while until we learn more about the plans of the enemy. There may be other places where they have supplies of ammunition stored. I want you to watch that cave you have discovered, and inform me at once if you learn anything more of importance. I know I can trust you, for you have good Bluenose blood in your veins. It is such blood as yours that will never allow the Fenians to capture this country, and will at last bring about Confederation."

"My father is very proud of his Loyalist descent," Drum replied.

"And so am I, young man. My grandfather came here with the Spring fleet in 1783, and received a grant of land and built a house and a store on what is now King street. My Loyalist descent is one of the strongest arguments I use in my efforts to counteract the lie of my opponents that I am a traitor to my country and wish to sell it for the price of a sheepskin. I love the land of my birth, and would die for it if necessary. But we will show our opponents that the old Bluenose blood can be relied upon. Let us now get on with our business. Did I understand you to say that you skated down river this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the ice is good?"

"I never saw it better."

"Well, then, how would you like to skate to Fredericton? I have a message which must be delivered there as soon as possible. Will you take it?"

"Certainly. Let me have it, sir, and I shall start at once."

"It is not ready yet, but if you will call at my office down town at one o'clock you can get it. I shall then give you all the instructions you will need. The message has to do with the threatened Fenian Raid, and as you are the one who suggested to me the new idea, I want you to be the first to carry it to my faithful colleagues at the Capital."

"Thank you, sir," Drum replied as he rose to his feet. "I shall go like the wind, travel all night, and reach Fredericton as soon as possible."

"Be careful, young man," Mr. Tilley warned. "There are dangerous places along the river, and I do not want anything to happen to you and to my message."

"You needn't worry, sir. I know the river well and all the treacherous places in the ice. I wouldn't undertake the journey if I didn't."