John Cole

“ Cole.
“We will be friends, nevertheless,” she said with [Pg 32] a captivating smile. “I will visit your church in the morning, and you will return to luncheon with me, and we will have a little game of billiards afterward.”
Mr. Cole’s delicate face grew ashy. He, John Chrysostom Cole, playing billiards on Sunday! What would his mother say—and what would the bishop say! Olivia looked a little shocked because of course Madame Koller must know better. Not so the Colonel. He laughed heartlessly at Mr. Cole, and began to think Eliza Peyton was a more amusing person than he had fancied. ”

“ Cole returned and located on the east side of Touisset Neck, on Kickemuit River in Warren. The farm he owned and the well he dug in 1677 are yet in possession of his lineal descendants. Mr. Cole was a member of John Myles's Church and was an influential man in town and church. He died Jan. 26, 1699, leaving a large descent to perpetuate the name and good qualities of their distinguished ancestor. Miss Asenath W. Cole, a descendant, lives on the ancestral land, and is loyal to the Cole history. ”

“ With an ease that made even Tom’s eyes open in wonder, and the lad was accustomed to Cole’s exhibitions of tremendous strength, the giant slave hoisted the chest upon his back, and motioned to his master to go before him and open the doors. It was a dead weight and sufficient to crush an ordinary man; but Cole carried it downstairs, through the wide hall, out into the garden, and thence to the orchard, where he lowered it to the ground with scarcely a labored breath.
“Cole,” said Tom Deering in astonishment, “I believe you are a second cousin to an elephant! You’re growing stronger every day!” ”

“ Cole moved over where Johnny Dines was making up his bed roll.
“Needn’t hurry with that bed, Johnny,” he [Pg 117] said in an undertone. “You move the wagon to Preisser Lake this mornin’. Besides, you may want to hold something out of your bed. You’re to slip away after dinner and edge over towards Hillsboro. Help Hiram bring his cattle back when he gets ready. Tell him we’ll be round Aleman all this week, so he might better come back through MacCleod’s Pass. I don’t know within fifty mile where the John Cross wagon is.” ”

“ Cole, on the authority of H. Wanley, says that before he took orders he studied physic, and throughout his life he retained a strong taste for natural science, and especially for botany. On 17 March 1669–70 he was elected chaplain to the Levant Company, and in that capacity served Sir Daniel Harvey and his successor Sir John Finch, ambassadors to the Porte. ”

“ Harry Cole smoothed his moustache and lighted a cigarette.
“Train just got in,” said the proprietor, apropos of nothing whatever.
“I heard it whistle,” nodded Harry. He flung a match in the cuspidor, brushed off his fancy vest and walked to the doorway, where he stopped.
A man was coming up that side of the street, carrying a small valise, and Cole recognised him as John T. Grant, president of the Lobo Wells Bank, who lived in Randall, about fifty miles south-east of Lobo Wells. Grant was nearing sixty years of age, a kindly appearing man, with snow-white hair and a slight limp. ”

“ Half an hour's rapid walking brought him to a small clearing, surrounded by a low rail-fence. In the centre of the clearing stood a cabin, a stream of ruddy light pouring from its open door. It was where the Coles lived. Two fierce hounds greeted Ephraim's approach with loud, hostile barking, and when he called out to them a young woman appeared at the door with a child on her breast—Elisha Cole's sister-in-law.
"Any o' the men folks at home, Mis' Cole?" Ephraim inquired, leaning over the fence.
"No; John an' his pap have gone over to Fannin County, an' 'Lishy's just started to the 'stillery." ”

“ Cole alone had an inkling of his errand; asking then for her, he easily made a beginning of acquaintance by bespeaking some millenary ware, when as I sat without lifting up my eyes, and pursuing the hem of a ruffle with the utmost composure, and simplicity of industry, Mrs. Cole took notice that the first impressions I made on him ran no risque of being destroy'd by those of Louisa, and Emily, who were then fitting at work with me. ”

“ Settled with feathery feet and quivering sense,
Till the white, gleaming robe seemed stuck with eyes.
It was the grinning glitterer, white and wise,
[Pg 69] King Cole, who said, "Madam, the Court is here,
The Court, the Prince, the Queen, all drawing near,
We here, the vanguard, set them on their way.
They come intent to see your circus play.
They ask that all who wish may enter free,
And in their princely hope that this may be
They send you these plump bags of minted gold." ”

“ And the little that one hopes one does not get.
The Wife:
Look, Will, the city gates with sentries set.
The Showman:
It looks to me as if the road were barred.
King Cole:
They are some soldiers of the bodyguard.
I hope, the heralds of your fortune's change.
[Pg 33]
"Now take this frowsy circus off the range,"
The soldiers at the city entrance cried;
"Keep clear the town, you cannot pass inside,
The Prince is here, with other things to do
Than stare at gangs of strollers such as you."
The Showman:
But I am billed to play here; and must play.
The Soldiers:
No must at all. ”

“ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS says:—"A room hung with pictures, is a room hung with thoughts." JOHN GILBERT says:—"A room with pictures in it, and a room without pictures, differ by nearly as much as a room with windows and a room without windows; for pictures are loopholes of escape to the soul, leading it to other scenes and to other spheres, as it were, through the frame of an exquisite picture, where the fancy for a moment may revel, refreshed and delighted." ”

“ An old, thin, grinning glitterer, decked with green,
With thready blood-streaks in his visage lean,
And at his wrinkled eyes a look of mirth
[Pg 52] Not common among men who walk the earth;
Yet from his pocket poked a flute of wood,
And little birds were following him for food.
"Sirs," said King Cole (for it was he) , "I know
You seek the Mayor, but you need not so ”

“ Poor John, he has been hunted down and shot like a wild beast, and never was a boy more innocent. But there is a day coming when the secrets of all hearts will be laid open before that All-seeing Eye, and every act of our lives will be scrutinized; then will his skirts be white as the driven snow, while those of his accusers will be doubly dark.
I will come now to the Ste. Genevieve robbery. ”

“ Beside the vans, the clown, old Circus John,
Growled to the juggler as he sucked his briar,
"How all the marrow of a show was gone
Since women came, to sing and walk the wire,
Killing the clown his act for half his hire,
Killing the circus trade: because," said he,
"Horses and us are what men want to see." ”

“ She had given way; but she must pull herself together. Sir Vernon, old and weak as he was, must be told the news; and she must tell him. She must tell him at once, lest tidings should break on him suddenly from some other quarter. Already the police were probably in the house. With a powerful effort, Joan forced herself to be calm. Drying her eyes, she stood upright, and looked at herself in the glass. She would need all her power to break the news to the old man whom she loved—the old man who had loved John Prinsep far more than he loved her. ”

“ The Showman:
You mean, a tramp who flutes for bread and pence?
King Cole:
I come, and flute, and then I wander thence.
The Showman:
Quicksilver Tom, who couldn't keep his place.
King Cole:
My race being run, I love to watch the race.
The Showman:
You ought to seek your rest.
King Cole:
My rest is this,
The world of men, wherever trouble is.
The Showman:
If trouble rests you, God! your life is rest.
[Pg 21] King Cole:
Even the sun keeps moving, east to west.
The Showman:
Little he gets by moving; less than I.
King Cole:
He sees the great green world go floating by. ”

“ Well, young man, you think it over, and come back and talk to me before you say a word to the police. Bring your Miss Cowper, too, if you like. I’m told she’s a pretty girl.” And with those words the old lawyer held out his hand, and bustled his visitor out of the office.
Ellery left Sir John Bunnery’s presence feeling as if he had been bruised all over. He had found out what he wanted, but not at all in the way he had intended. And now this masterful old man apparently meant to take full command of the case. He must see Joan, and tell her what had happened. ”

“ It would be [80] a needless sacrifice for you to throw yourself into the hands of her enemies.”
Despite the boy’s protests, his father remained firm; so with a heavy heart Tom climbed into the boat with Marion. Cole would have remained behind with his master; but the planter, who recognized the great attachment of the giant black to his son, and saw how valuable he would be during these dangerous times, promptly ordered him, also, into the yawl.
They were just pulling into Stone Gap when a small boat with an armed crew left the British brig and pulled for the wrecked Tartar. ”

“ Tom held up his hand, quietly; he showed not the slightest trace of fear, for the things that Cole had made him understand had filled him with confidence. The Tories below gazed up at him in astonishment. Tom spoke:
“I charge all men within hearing of my voice to lay down their arms, in peace. You are enemies to your neighbors and to Carolina, [198] and in the name of the Continental Congress, I call upon you to surrender.”
“He’s mad!” burst out Clarage, “as mad as a March hare!”
“Down with him,” shrilled the voice of Mark Harwood. “No quarter to the rebel.” ”

“ And then, there is Laura! Every throb of her heart is of indignation against British oppression. I am confident of that.”
He was still deep in thought, and they were ascending a narrow road that led to the Harwood house before Tom realized it. Suddenly Cole uttered his strange cry and touched his horse with the spur. In a moment he was beside Tom, one hand upon his shoulder, and the other pointing to a small clump of trees by the roadside near the house. A half dozen horses were tied there, and from their trappings Tom knew them to be the mounts of the king’s dragoons. ”

“ The crown of Mark Harwood’s wide wool hat was plainly visible to Tom’s watchful eyes, sticking above a bush behind which he was crouching. Tom was careful not to let the spying Tory know that he was observed; and in a voice that he knew would reach the listener, he said to Cole:
“This will be a good place to bury it. It won’t do to let all this gold lie around now [98] when there is danger of the enemy coming. We’ll bury it here and make a note of the spot; when everything is quiet again, and the Tories gone, we can dig it up once more.” ”

“ But there might be two different murderers. Joan was inclined to regard it as quite possible that Prinsep might have killed George Brooklyn; but it was utterly inconceivable that George should have killed anybody. Far more clearly than her stepfather, he was not that kind of man. So that the best line of inquiry seemed to be to search for the murderer of John Prinsep. But, she remembered, it was in this case that the police had their strongest evidence against Walter Brooklyn. ”

“ In the black midnight still the cock will crow.
There is a help that the abandoned know
Deep in the heart, that conquerors cannot feel.
Abide in hope the turning of the wheel,
The luck will alter and the star will rise.
His presence seemed to change before their eyes. ”

“ Where good King Cole most haunts the public way,
Coming from Reading for St. Giles's Fair
Through rain unceasing since Augustine's Day;
The horses spent, the waggons splashed with clay,
The men with heads bowed to the wester roaring,
Heaving the van-wheels up the hill at Goring.
Wearily plodding up the hill they went,
Broken by bitter weather and the luck,
Six vans, and one long waggon with the tent,
[Pg 10] And piebald horses following in the muck,
Dragging their tired hooves out with a suck,
And heaving on, like some defeated tribe
Bound for Despair with Death upon their kibe. ”

“ Madness is quickening deadness into birth."
And then, as in the spring when first men hear,
Beyond the black-twigged hedge, the lambling's cry
Coming across the snow, a note of cheer
Before the storm-cock tells that spring is nigh,
[Pg 60] Before the first green bramble pushes shy,
And all the blood leaps at the lambling's notes,
The piping brought men's hearts into their throats. ”

“ To be a king is to be like a quince,
Bitter himself, yet flavour to the rest.
To be a cat among the hay were best;
There in the upper darkness of the loft,
With green eyes bright, soft-lying, purring soft,
Hearing the rain without; not forced, as I,
To lay foundation stones until I die,
Or sign State-papers till my hand is sick.
The man who plaits straw crowns upon a rick
Is happier in his crown than I the King. ”

“ The rain dripped from the waggons: the drops glid
Along the pony's flanks; the thick boots stamped
The running muck for warmth, and hope was damped.
Yet all of that small troupe in misery stuck,
Were there by virtue of their nature's choosing
To be themselves and take the season's luck,
Counting the being artists worth the bruising.
To be themselves, as artists, even if losing
Wealth, comfort, health, in doing as they chose,
Alone of all life's ways brought peace to those. ”