Cotter

“ Wilfrid asked.
"Why, the big man in the livery," Cotter replied. "But I forgot—you didn't see him. He came up to the other two with a whip in his hand and lashed them as if they had been dogs. A great nigger, nearly seven feet high."
"A nigger!" Wilfrid exclaimed. "What bosh!"
"I assure you it's true, sir," Cotter said earnestly. "It was on the other side of the lawn and the light from the window fell full upon his face. I tell you he is a pure-blooded negro. ”

“ As soon as this business is done with and out of the way, Cotter, the better I shall be pleased. It is a bit dangerous even for us. Of course, we can trust Slater, who does everything himself and always uses the cypher which I defy even Scotland Yard to unravel. Still, as I said before, the work is dangerous, and I will never take on a scheme like that again. You had better use one of the cars as far as the post-office to save time."
"I shall be glad to," Cotter muttered. "I should never dare to walk down to the village in the dark after seeing this infernal piece of string. ”

“ The time was past for paying the money, and Cotter, acting as Flower's agent, could step in at any moment and claim everything. There was a brief respite, Wilfrid knew, because Cotter had gone into Castlebridge, no doubt to complete certain legal formalities, and would not be back much before six.
"I am going to leave you at Maldon Grange," Wilfrid explained when once they had set out on their journey. "I must be at home when Cotter returns from Castlebridge. I have had many unpleasant things to face in my life, but nothing that I shrink from so much as telling my poor dear mother the truth. ”

“ I suppose Miss Galloway is in her bedroom."
"I can guess that for myself," Wilfrid retorted. "Show me her room."
"Oh, I will," Cotter whined. "But don't ask me to move from here, sir. It would be cruel. It is all very well for a young man like you who doesn't know—"
"If you won't come, I will take you by the scruff of your neck and drag you upstairs," Wilfrid said grimly.
He caught hold of Cotter's limp arm and propelled him up the stairs. The atmosphere was clean and sweet now, though traces of the perfume lingered. Cotter, hanging limply from Wilfrid's arm, pointed to a door. ”

“ Wilfrid said imperiously. "There is nothing to be frightened of. Go and bring it, or I will kick you out of the window."
Cotter shambled off into the darkness. He came back presently with a handful of the thick, fleshy leaves, and under Wilfrid's direction began to mash them into pulp. The man's manner was so strange that Mercer asked the reason.
"I am mad," Cotter exclaimed. "We are all mad. There was never anything like this since the world began. I tell you those men have gone. ”

“ For some time after Cotter had gone Flower sat at his table thinking deeply. The longer he pondered the matter, the more inexplicable it became. Beatrice's discovery was grave enough, but this business of the registered letter was a thousand times worse. Nobody appreciated daring, audacity, and courage more than Flower. He knew what a strong asset they were in success in life; indeed, they had made him what he was. But this cleverness and audacity were far beyond his own. He took up the silken string and twisted it nervously in his fingers. ”

“ To be flanked in Indian battle by superior numbers was the most terrible thing that could happen to the pioneers, and Mr. Ware stretched out his line longer and longer, and thinner and thinner. Paul Cotter was full of excitement; he had been in deadly conflict once before, but his was a most sensitive temperament, terribly stirred by a foe whom he could yet neither see nor hear. Almost unconsciously, he placed himself by the side of Henry Ware, his old partner, to whom he now looked up as a son of battle and the very personification of forest skill. ”

“ The thing had passed as rapidly as it had come and Wilfrid felt ripe for action. He was bold enough to meet the terror in whatever way it lifted up its head. As he turned towards the hall Cotter staggered into the room. His face was white and he shook like a reed in the wind. His fat hands were rubbing nervously together and he was the very embodiment of grotesque, almost ludicrous, fright.
"After all these years," he muttered, "after all these years. I am a wicked old man, sir, a miserable old wretch who doesn't deserve to live. ”

“ One potent but ill-fated genius has, in far different circumstances and with far other means, shown that he could have equalled him: the Cotter's Saturday Night of Burns is, in its own humble way, as quietly beautiful, as simplex munditiis, as the scenes of Tell. ”

“ Unless I am mistaken it is your uncle who is in most danger."
Wilfrid turned and passed into the hall. The library door was shut and he seemed to hear voices from the room. Crouching behind a settee he made out the form of Cotter, who rose as he approached and came forward writhing and rubbing his hands. The fellow's abject terror filled Wilfrid with disgust.
"Where is your master?" he demanded.
"In there," Cotter whispered, "with them. He'll never come out again. We shall never see Samuel Flower alive. What are you going to do, sir? ”

“ His latest book of verse is A White Song and a Black One (Louisville, 1909) . Cotter's response to Paul Lawrence Dunbar's After a Visit to Kentucky, was exceedingly well done, but his Negro Love Song is the cleverest thing he has written hitherto. His work has been praised by Alfred Austin, Israel Zangwill, Madison Cawein, Charles J. O'Malley, and other excellent judges of poetry. Cotter is a great credit to his race, and he has won, by his quiet, unassuming life and literary labors, the respect of many of Louisville's most prominent citizens. ”

“ Beatrice gave the assurance and they crept into the bedroom silently together. Flower lay with his eyes wide open, gazing about the room in a strange, lack-lustre fashion. Evidently he had not the remotest notion where he was or what was taking place around him. He murmured from time to time a medley of things in which the shrewdness of a man and the innocence of a child were curiously mingled. Wilfrid seemed to hear sounds of some one moving in the dressing-room beyond, and he looked into the room, where he saw Cotter in the act of placing some papers in a desk. ”

“ It may be in the house at the present moment for all I know, just as it was at Maldon Grange."
"Drop that!" said Flower fiercely. "Drop that, you lily-livered coward, or I will do you a mischief. Is there nothing in the world worth speaking about except those yellow-faced devils who are after us now? Isn't it bad enough that Jansen should turn up at this moment?"
Flower paused as an electric bell in the basement purred loudly and a sort of muffled cry came from Cotter as if he had been listening to his death-knell. He stood gazing abjectly into Flower's face, his own white and sweat-bedabbled. ”

“ Cotter looked up with a puzzled expression on his face and Uzali learned what he wanted. The secret of the treasure in the vaults of Maldon Grange was not known to Cotter.
"Wonderful man, Flower," Uzali muttered as he walked away with Russell. "Extraordinary how he managed to hoodwink everybody. He must have contrived to remove everything of value from the city of my birth before he destroyed the town by blowing up the water dam. ”

“ Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I came downstairs to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, as if returning to some former remark of his:
“No, I wouldn’t say he was exactly ... but there was something queer ... there was something uncanny about him. I’ll tell you my opinion....”
He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in his mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to be rather interesting, talking of faints and worms; but I soon grew tired of him and his endless stories about the distillery. ”

“ NOTE.—The Cotter's Saturday Night was written in 1785 or the beginning of 1786. In all English poetry there are few pictures of home life so charming as that portrayed in this poem. The stanza employed is the Spenserian stanza, named for Edmund Spenser, who first used it. The first eight lines have five feet each, while the last has six feet.
Cotter, as used by Burns, means peasant farmer.
[1.] Much respected friend, Robert Aiken, an early friend of the poet's, to whom the poem was inscribed. ”

“ Cotter, with danger, edged his way along the wall to the east, and I to the west, to see if there [Pg 119] might not be some favourable point; but we both returned with the belief that the precipice in front of us was as passable as any of it. Down it we must.
After lying on our faces, looking over the brink ten or twenty minutes, I suggested that by lowering ourselves on the rope we might climb from crevice to crevice; but we saw no shelf large enough for ourselves and the knapsacks too. ”

“ The moment Cotter saw me he burst out:
“Tell this infernal fool that I’m not drunk,” he said.
“If you’re acquainted with the gentleman,” said the policeman, “it would be well for you to take him home to his bed. He’s not in a fit state to be out by himself.”
I drove off the policeman with some difficulty, making myself personally responsible for Cotter’s safety. Then I questioned the old gentleman.
“What have you been doing?” I said.
“Waiting for the ambulance. I’d be waiting still if that ass of a policeman hadn’t insisted that I was drunk and dragged me away.” ”

“ But whoso has no horses, and makes a pair of lean oxen draw his plow, is a cotter and must hold his tongue. In the tavern, in the town meeting, and everywhere. His opinion is worthless, and no regular farmer pays any attention to the poor beggar.
The professor of the Cobbler-Sebastian property, house number eight in Eynhofen, George Fottner by name, was a cotter. ”

“ James Cotter was mortally wounded. The boats soon reached the beach, and the dying man was removed with all dexterity to his father's house; Nora, with all her tender womanly instinct, having endeavored to soothe him and assuage his pain, heartily granting his prayers for forgiveness. The crew that put off from the gunboat failed to find anything that would establish the charge of smuggling against any one in the village, and returned disappointed to their vessel. ”

“ James Cotter died the next day, and the Frenchman that assisted him in his attempted abduction of Nora, made their way to Cork, from whence they took shipping to France. Subsequent investigations by the police in Guileen and its neighborhood proved that Cotter, the agent, was largely concerned in the contraband trade, but receiving notice in time from a friendly quarter, he quitted the country. Suspicions, moreover, was attached to a number of parties, but warrants were issued for the arrest of Michael O'Regan and three others. ”

“ Quite too early for our profit we all betook ourselves to bed, vainly hoping to get a long refreshing [Pg 101] sleep from which we should rise ready for our tramp.
Never a man welcomed those first gray streaks in the east gladder than I did, unless it may be Cotter, who has in later years confessed that he did not go to sleep that night. Long before sunrise we had done our breakfast and were under way, Hoffman kindly bearing my pack, and Brewer Cotter's.
Our way led due east up the amphitheatre and toward Mount Brewer, as we had named the great pyramidal peak. ”

“ In many of Cotter’s verses there is a sonorous flow which is evidence of poetic power made creative by passion. Didacticism and philosophy do not destroy the lyrical quality. In The Book’s Creed this teacher-poet makes an appeal to his generation to be as much alive and as creative as the creed makers of other days were. ”

“ In order to reform you must have an ideal, and the ideal of Burns, on the occasion of having exhausted all capacity for sin, is embodied in the "Saturday Night." It is all a beautiful dream. The real Scottish cotter is quite another kind of person. The religion of the live cotter is well seasoned with fear, malevolence and absurd dogmatism. The amount of love, patience, excellence and priggishness shown in "The Cotter's Saturday Night" never existed, except in a poet's imagination. ”

“ Flower said impatiently. "Don't be too sure. You have forgotten what I told you about Miss Galloway and the mysterious hand that was trying to force a way into the conservatory. She doesn't know the significance of that attempt, and there is no reason why she should. But we know, Cotter. We know only too well that the danger is not only coming, but that it is here. Unless I am mistaken it threatens us from more quarters than one. But it is folly to discuss this matter when there is so much to be done! I have friends coming to dinner, curse it, and more are expected later in the evening. ”

“ The security had undoubtedly found its way into Cotter's hands and no time would be lost in making use of the weapon. The mere thought was maddening. Here was a man lying on his death-bed, yet ready to strike at another man, who, on two occasions had risked his life for him. It would have been better to allow those poisonous little Easterns to have their own way and remove a scoundrel like Flower altogether. Still, there was a chance yet, and Wilfrid meant to take advantage of it if he had the opportunity. ”