Читать книгу Eli and Sibyl Jones, Their Life and Work - Rufus M. Jones - Страница 6

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"Man is the nobler growth our soil supplies,

And souls are ripened 'neath our northern skies."

The man whose early life was passed in the isolation of primeval forests, and who grew to manhood carrying on an unceasing struggle to turn the rough, uncultivated soil into productive fields, gardens, and pasture-lands, has worked into his life something which no coming generation can inherit or acquire. He has missed the broad culture of the schools and universities, he cannot gain the intellectual skill which long study gives, but he has had a training which lays a foundation for the keenest judgment and for prompt decision in complicated circumstances, and his soul in solitude has taken in truths of God which often escape men lost in the tumultuous world of business and pleasure. The men who were born during the first quarter of a century after our national life began have nearly all been characterized by special traits which will perhaps not appear again in the more developed growth of the nation. It has not astonished us to see a man leave his little cottage after twenty-five years of toil and go through all the grades of honor, reach a position from which he could hardly go higher, and finally depart from a life unspotted, respected by mankind.

But in this development there is no chance: he mounts by a law which, if we knew it, is as unvariable as that of gravitation. The powers of the mind and soul seek a field in which they may be put to work at profit. It cannot be uninteresting to follow the course of a man who has shown—at least to those who have known him well—that there was something in him of value to the world. In measuring the worth of any man, we must not be dazzled by the glare of earthly glory, but calmly inquire what he has done that has built itself into other lives, and we must look beyond outward things to see in how far he has been the honored tool of the Supreme Worker.

The family of Jones is a large one, and its genealogical table would make a long story. Welsh John succeeded Welsh John, and was called John's son until time wore the name down to Jones. Generation after generation they held their place and did their work among the Welsh hills, until one of them was called upon to steer the Mayflower with its precious load to Plymouth. Eli Jones writes in a letter dated 1st mo. 9th, 1888: "I have been reading Bonvard's Plymouth and the Pilgrims, from which I learn that Isaac Robinson, son of the Rev. John Robinson, pastor of the Pilgrim Fathers, was an early settler at Plymouth, and that he became a Quaker. Our grandmother Jepson was a Robinson, and, for aught I know, great-great-great-grandniece of this very Isaac Robinson. The captain of the Mayflower was a Jones. With him we claim kindred, and that claim is readily allowed. Now, if our great-great-great-grandsire was the venerable patriarch who led in prayer and gave the memorable parting charge[1] to the Pilgrims, and if his son, our great-great-greatuncle, was, as history relates, a trading man in the colony and a 'convinced Friend,' it is certainly fitting that we should take a lively interest in what occurred among our kin in 1620."

Much later, after many settlements in different parts of New England had failed, and the Pilgrim and Puritan colonies were in prosperous growth, three brothers bearing the name of Jones came to this continent. One of them found a forest home on the bank of the Androscoggin River, six miles from Brunswick, in the township of Durham and District of Maine. Quite a large number of friends collected here, and a meeting-house was built not far away. There was a large Friends' meeting at Deering, near Portland, and the name of Jones was common among its members. The monthly and quarterly meetings at each place were frequently visited by Friends from the other, necessitating a foot-journey of fully forty miles through almost pathless woods. The house is still standing in which Abel Jones was born. He determined to leave his home and go farther north. He travelled on horseback up the Kennebec River as far as Vassalboro', and then rode ten miles east to the north-eastern end of what is now China Lake, in earlier times often called the "Twelve-mile Pond," because it is twelve miles from Augusta, the State capital. His young bride, Susannah Jepson, rode on horseback from North Berwick, a distance of one hundred and fifteen miles. She was attended by her brother alone, and brought only what a pair of saddlebags could hold. Here in a little house, in the year 1807, their first child was born and named Eli. A letter was at once sent to the young child's grandfather and grandmother at Durham. The letter came to the nearest post-station, twelve miles away, and was taken in charge by an elderly Friend who lived there. He volunteered to start out at once to carry the letter to its destination, thinking it might contain valuable information. As he listened to its contents at the end of his journey he made the significant remark, "Is that all there is in it?" and jogged back home.

One's first thought would be that if a child was to be brought up in the Maine woods, it would make very little difference in what part of the State the spot happened to be; but it is not at all so. As a young life is very susceptible to outward scenes and every-day events, we can hardly estimate the moulding influence of little things.

The life of the few families in the early history of China would be exceedingly interesting if we only had a graphic sketch from the pen of one of its settlers. Owning the acres they cleared and tilled and the houses in which they dwelt, they called no man master, but they bowed in reverence before their heavenly King and obeyed His commandments. They did their day's work week after week, little thinking that a generation would come which would wish to follow the story of their trials and triumphs, their joys and sorrows; and now almost all that is left us is the inherited strength from their sturdy lives and a few stories of their sufferings.

Without doubt, nothing in nature had more influence on the bent of Eli Jones's mind than China Lake and its beautiful shores. A boy placed on the bank of a lake stretching off seven miles becomes inheritor to a domain more vast than the acres of water it contains. He feels that he owns so much of this world's glory, and this feeling of ownership lifts him out of the common, dull round of life. Year by year he owns more in proportion as his soul expands and he sees more of God's work and God's love in the painted sunsets beyond the western shore and in the forests above and below the placid waters. No one who has not experienced it can appreciate the worth of a lake to a boy. It is not simply because he can fish there, or can swim there, or can make a rude boat and so float on its surface. That is its chief worth to the thoughtless boy, but it was not all to the keenly perceptive child who was father to the man Eli Jones. It was his great playmate whom he loved. It was at the same time his teacher, whose "various language" spoke a Father's presence and His love.

It is very monotonous toil changing a rough forest to a productive farm, but a youth becomes a familiar friend to stumps, hillocks, and rocks; to him the mounds are Indian graves, the tall stones mark the final resting-places of mighty chiefs, and his imagination fills the round of work with marvellous scenes. Very many, doubtless, see only their work and the fruit of it, but there are a few who see mysteries and learn lessons wherever they are placed, so that monotony is changed to endless variety. Eli Jones was one of those boys who make gain from ethereal things.

The spot which Abel Jones chose for his home had many of the characteristics of a scene in Maine. Hills were backed by other hills, and not far in from the lake was a mile-long "horseback."[2] The trees were not pigmies in those days, but giant oaks and pines,

"Whose living towers the years conspired to build,

Whose giddy tops the morning loved to gild."

There were dense forests of cedar, and the scattered bass-woods made the whole place fragrant in the spring. Never had an axe swung in these solitudes, and the mighty power of the ages was felt as these stout pines met the breeze. It was no small privilege to be canopied with such a tent as their meeting tops made.

"Whoso walks in solitude

And inhabiteth the wood,

Choosing light, wave, rock, and bird

Before the money-loving herd—

Into that forester shall pass,

From these companions, power and grace.

On him the light of star and moon

Shall fall with purer radiance down;

All constellations of the sky

Shed their virtue through his eye.

Him Nature giveth for defence

His formidable innocence.

The mounting sap, the shells, the sea,

All spheres, all stones, his helpers be."

China had first been settled in 1774 by a family of Clarks. There were four brothers, two of whom were Friends. They cut the first tree that a white man's axe had ever felled in the township, and began to survey the land for homes. The two Friends chose the eastern and the others the western side of the lake. Life in the midst of the Maine forest implied struggle, and these families were courageous. No report of possible gold-mines or other hidden wealth drew them and those who followed them, but the desire to seek out quiet homes for themselves and their children where the temptations to a life of uselessness would be few. Trials they expected, and they were not spared. It was a hand-to-hand contest with want. At one time a cow was nearly the only valuable possession of the little company, and this was accidentally shot for a deer. The men went often ten miles through the woods, by the aid of "spotted" or "blazed" trees, to get their corn ground. We are told that in one case the mother was forced to put stones, in lieu of potatoes, in the hot ashes to induce her crying hungry children to go to bed until they should be called, and often the potatoes which had been planted were dug up to be eaten. Indians and the wild animals were around them, continually causing fear. In a cove at the south-western shore of the lake is a large heart, called the "Indian's heart," cut in a huge boulder, and in spring nearly covered by water. This marks the encampment of a tribe of Indians naturally friendly to their white neighbors, but exceedingly treacherous. On one occasion they visited the settlers in a body, and while the latter were unsuspiciously entertaining them they threw water on the guns of the white men, and only the darkness of the night saved these from destruction.

Gradually one family after another was added to the community, and as they all came for the same purpose, the settlement was composed of strong characters. These farmers had the idea that it should not be the chief aim of those who till the soil to grow rich, or to fill the market with choice vegetables, or to gain an easy livelihood, but rather to send out from their households sons and daughters marked by strength of character and able to do manly and womanly work in the various spheres of the world. Their visible workfield may have seemed narrow and roughly hedged in, but they felt the needs of the future, and did their best to raise a tower of strength in the land by properly training their successors. The horizon which shuts in their real domain expands as the times grow riper.

The first Friends' meeting in China was held about 1803, in a private house two and a half miles from the south end of the lake. Abel Jones was married to Susannah Jepson in this house in 1806, and about seven years later a meeting-house was built, to which Eli was taken even before it was wholly finished. This building was heated by a wood-fire under an iron kettle, and in every particular it was plain and rough; but no more sincere praises to the Lord have risen through the arches of marvellously wrought cathedrals than in this forest meeting-house. Eli Jones's grandfather on his mother's side was the first acknowledged minister in this meeting. Eli first heard the gospel preached in this house, and here he saw the occasional visitors from afar. Each year, which added its natural increase to the boy's stature, was marking a no less evident growth of mind and vigor of spirit. His mother taught him that "serving God and keeping His commandments was the whole duty of man." He was shown by the quiet example of both parents that honest work in the right spirit is an essential part of pure and undefiled religion, while the lives of Joseph, Samuel, David, and Daniel were put before him, showing him the justness of God's dealing in the different ages, both in rewarding righteousness and in punishing unrighteousness. Those heroes of faith of the Old Testament made a deep impression on him, as they must on every young person whose mind is not corrupted by the unnatural and impossible fictions of the present day; but the pages which told of Christ's work and words, His life and death, were so fixed in his mind and heart that the great Master early began to shape and strengthen the character of His chosen disciple.