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Christmas Eve At Swamp's End-Norman Duncan · Romance Library

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  Speaker 1: Chapter one of Christmas Eve at Swamp's End. This is
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  Speaker 1: a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
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  Speaker 1: For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
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  Speaker 1: Recording by David Wales. Christmas Eve at Swamp's End by
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  Speaker 1: Norman Duncan, Chapter one, the Wistful Heart. It was long
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  Speaker 1: afternoon in the far big white Northwest. Day was on
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  Speaker 1: the wing, Christmas Eve splendidly impended, Thank God for unspoiled
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  Speaker 1: childish faith and joys of children everywhere. Christmas Eve was
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  Speaker 1: fairly within view and welcoming, Haile at last in the
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  Speaker 1: thickening eastern shadows. Long day at its close, Day in
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  Speaker 1: a perturbation of blessed nuns, selfishness, Day with its tasks
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  Speaker 1: of love not half accomplished, and day near done. Bed
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  Speaker 1: time coming round the world on the jump. Nine o'clock,
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  Speaker 1: leaping from longitude to longitude. Night, impatient and determined, chasing
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  Speaker 1: all the children of the world in drowsy expectation to sleep,
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  Speaker 1: making a clean sweep of 'em, every one with her soft,
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  Speaker 1: wide broom of dusk. Nine o'clock shoe off you go.
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  Speaker 1: Tomorrow's on the way. Soon, Oh soon, Tomorrow's here. When
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  Speaker 1: you fall asleep, set em already have you not another
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  Speaker 1: word from either of you? Not a whisper, Ye, grinning rascals.
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  Speaker 1: Cuddle down, little people of Christ's heart and leading, snuggle close, closer, yet,
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  Speaker 1: my children, that your arms may grow used to this
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  Speaker 1: loving Another kiss from mother, blessed ones, A billion more
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  Speaker 1: for nights and mornings, for all day long, of all
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  Speaker 1: the years, waiting here on Mother's lips. And now to sleep.
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  Speaker 1: Christmas is tomorrow. Hush tomorrow, yes tomorrow, go to sleep,
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  Speaker 1: Go to sleep, and upon the flying heels of night.
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  Speaker 1: But still far over seas from the blustering white northwest
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  Speaker 1: where Paddy Batch was waiting at Swamp's End in the woods,
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  Speaker 1: the new day, with jolly countenance, broad rosy and delighted,
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  Speaker 1: was somewhere approaching in a gale of childish laughter, blithely
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  Speaker 1: calling in its westward sweep to all Christian children to
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  Speaker 1: awaken to their peculiar and eternal joy. It was Christmas
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  Speaker 1: weather in the big Woods, a Christmas temperature like frozen
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  Speaker 1: steel thirty below in the clearing of Swamp's End, and
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  Speaker 1: a rollicking wind careering over the pines and the swirling
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  Speaker 1: dust of snow in the metallic air. A cold, crisp,
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  Speaker 1: crackling world, a Christmas land too, a vast expanse of
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  Speaker 1: Christmas color, from the Canadian line to the Big River,
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  Speaker 1: great grave, green pines, white earth, and a blood red sunset.
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  Speaker 1: The low log cabins of the lumber camps were smothered
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  Speaker 1: in snow. They were fringed with pendant ice at the eaves,
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  Speaker 1: and banked high with drifts, and all window frosted. The
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  Speaker 1: trails were thigh deep and drifting. The pines, their great
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  Speaker 1: fall imminent, now flaunted long black arms in the gale.
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  Speaker 1: They creaked, they swished, they'd groaned, They crackled with frost.
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  Speaker 1: It was coming on dusk. The deeper reaches of the
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  Speaker 1: forest were already dark. Horses and teamsters, sawyers, road monkeys, axemen, swampers, punk,
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  Speaker 1: hunters and all floundered from the bush, white with dry snow,
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  Speaker 1: icicled and frosted like a Christmas cake, to the roaring
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  Speaker 1: bunk house fires, to a voracious employment at the cook's
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  Speaker 1: long tables, and to an expanding festival jollity Town. Sure
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  Speaker 1: swamps in for Christmas. The lights and companionship of the
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  Speaker 1: bedraggled shanty Lumbertown, in the clearing of Swamp's End, Swamp's
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  Speaker 1: end for Gingerbread Jenkins, Swamp's End for Billy the Beast,
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  Speaker 1: Swamp's End, and the roaring hilarity thereof for man and boy,
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  Speaker 1: straw Boss and Cookie of the Lumberjacks. Presently, the dim
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  Speaker 1: trails from the Canthook cutting from the Bottled River, camps
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  Speaker 1: from Snook's Landing, and the yellow Tail works poured the
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  Speaker 1: boys into town, a lusty, hilarious crew, like loosed schoolboys
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  Speaker 1: on a lark, giving over now to the only distractions,
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  Speaker 1: it seemed, and John Fairmeadow maintained it, which the great
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  Speaker 1: world provided in the forests. Paddy Batch might have been
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  Speaker 1: aware of this. The log shack was on the edge
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  Speaker 1: of town. Had not the window panes been coated thick
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  Speaker 1: with Christmas frost, she might have heard rough life. After
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  Speaker 1: passing by the Bottle River trail ran right past the door,
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  Speaker 1: had not the big Christmas wind snored in the stove
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  Speaker 1: and fearsomely rattled the door and shaken the cabin and
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  Speaker 1: swept howling on. But she never in the world would
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  Speaker 1: have attended, not in that emergency. She would not, for
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  Speaker 1: anything have peeped out of the windows in perfectly proper
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  Speaker 1: curiosity to watch the bottle river Jack's flounder into town.
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  Speaker 1: Not she Patty Batch was busy. Patty Batch was so
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  Speaker 1: desperately employed that her swift little fingers demanded all the
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  Speaker 1: attention that the most alert, the brightest, the very most
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  Speaker 1: bewitching gray eyes in the whole wide world could bestow
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  Speaker 1: upon anything whatsoever. Christmas Eve, you see day done. Something
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  Speaker 1: of soft fawn skin engaged her. It seemed with white patches,
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  Speaker 1: matched and arranged with marvelous exactitude. Something made for warmth
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  Speaker 1: in the wind. Something of small fashion, but long and
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  Speaker 1: indubitably capacious. Something with a hood of little cloak. Possibly,
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  Speaker 1: I don't know, but I am sure that it could envelop,
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  Speaker 1: that it could boil or roast, that it could fairly
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  Speaker 1: smother a baby. It was lined with golden, brown, crackling silk,
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  Speaker 1: which Paddy Batch's mother had left in her trunk upon
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  Speaker 1: her last departure, poor woman, from the sordid world of
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  Speaker 1: Swamp's End, to regions which were now become, in Paddy
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  Speaker 1: Batch's loving vision, places of light. And it was upon
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  Speaker 1: this treasured cloth. That Patty Batch's flashing needle was working
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  Speaker 1: like mad in the lamplight. A Christmas sacrifice. It was
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  Speaker 1: labor of love and the gift of treasure. Paddy Batch
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  Speaker 1: was lovely. Everybody knew it, and there's no denying it.
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  Speaker 1: Grief had not left her wan and apathetic. She had
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  Speaker 1: been a little man. She had been so much of
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  Speaker 1: a little man that she was now much more of
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  Speaker 1: a little woman than ever she had been before. In
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  Speaker 1: respect to her bewitching endearments, there's no mincing matters at all.
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  Speaker 1: It would shame a man to him and haw and qualify.
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  Speaker 1: She was adorable, beauty of youth and heart of tenderness,
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  Speaker 1: a quaint little womanly child of seventeen, gowned now in
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  Speaker 1: a black dress, long skirted to be sure of her
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  Speaker 1: mother's old fashioned wearing. Gray eyes, wide dark lashed sun,
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  Speaker 1: sparkling and shadowy and wilful, dark hair, a sweetly tilted
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  Speaker 1: little nose, a boyish, masterful way, coquettish twinkles, dimples in
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  Speaker 1: most perilous places, rosy cheeks, a tender little figure, an
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  Speaker 1: aristocratic toss to her head. Why, indeed, the catalog of
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  Speaker 1: her charms has no end to it, courage to boot too,
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  Speaker 1: as though youth and loveliness were not sufficient endowment, and
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  Speaker 1: uncompromising honesty with herself and all the world she took
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  Speaker 1: in washing from the camps. There was nothing else to
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  Speaker 1: do with gray Billy Batch, lost in rattle water, and
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  Speaker 1: now decently stowed away by the Reverend John Fairmeadow. It
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  Speaker 1: was lonely in gray Billy Batch's cabin. Now, of course,
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  Speaker 1: it was sometimes almost intolerably so, and ghostly too, with
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  Speaker 1: echoes of long past footsteps and memories of soft motherly words.
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  Speaker 1: Patty Batch, however, a practical little person, knew in her
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  Speaker 1: own mind, you must be informed exactly how to still
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  Speaker 1: the haunting echoes and transform the memories into blessed companions
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  Speaker 1: of her busy, gentle solitude. But she had not as
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  Speaker 1: yet managed the solution. Patty Batch wanted a baby. Companionship,
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  Speaker 1: of course, would be a mere by product of a
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  Speaker 1: baby's presence in the cabin. The real wealth and advantage
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  Speaker 1: would be a glowing satisfaction in the baby. At any rate,
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  Speaker 1: Patty Badge wanted one. She always had, and she simply
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  Speaker 1: couldn't help it. Babies, however, were not numerous at swamp's end.
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  Speaker 1: In point of fact, there was only one, a perfectly
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  Speaker 1: adorable infant. It must be understood, a suitable child, and
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  Speaker 1: worthy in every respect of being heartily desired by any woman,
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  Speaker 1: which unhappily belonged to the bartender who lived with Pale
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  Speaker 1: Peter of the Red Elephant Saloon. No use asking for
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  Speaker 1: that baby, not outright. It could be borrowed. However, Patty
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  Speaker 1: Batch had borrowed it. She had borrowed it frequently of late,
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  Speaker 1: and had mysteriously measured it with a calculating eye, and
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  Speaker 1: had estimated and scowled in doubt, and scratched her head
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  Speaker 1: and pursed her sweet red lips, and had secretly spanned
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  Speaker 1: the baby from chin to toe and across the back
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  Speaker 1: with an industriously inquiring thumb and little finger. But a
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  Speaker 1: borrowed baby, it seems, is of no use whatsoever. The
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  Speaker 1: satisfaction is said to be temporary, nothing more, and to
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  Speaker 1: leave a sense of vacant arms and a stinging aggravation
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  Speaker 1: of envy. So what Patty Badge wanted was a baby
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  Speaker 1: to keep, a baby she could call her own and
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  Speaker 1: cherish against meddling. A baby that should be so rosy
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  Speaker 1: and fat and curly, so neat and white, so scrubbed
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  Speaker 1: and highly polished from crown to toe nails, that every
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  Speaker 1: mother in the land beholding would promptly expire on the
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  Speaker 1: spot of amazement, incredulity, and sheer jealousy. There were babies
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  Speaker 1: at elegant Corner, a frowsy, listless mud hole of the
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  Speaker 1: woods near by. They were all possessed by one mother too.
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  Speaker 1: The last comer had appeared in the fall of the year,
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  Speaker 1: and Patty Batch, when the great news came down to
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  Speaker 1: Swamp's End, had instantly taken the trail for elegant corners.
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  Speaker 1: Got another, eh, says she flatly to the wretched missus Limp.
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  Speaker 1: Uh huh. Missus Limp sighed and rolled her eyes, as
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  Speaker 1: though God save us, the ultimate misfortune had fallen upon her.
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  Speaker 1: Number eight. She groaned. Don't you like it? Patty demanded hopefully.
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  Speaker 1: Missus Limp was so deeply submerged in tears that she
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  Speaker 1: failed to commit herself. You don't like it, eh, Patty pursued,
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  Speaker 1: hope immediately abounding. Missus Limp sniffed, well, said Patty, her
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  Speaker 1: little heart all in a flutter. She was afflicted too,
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  Speaker 1: with an adorable lisp in excitement. I thpose I ought
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  Speaker 1: to be tharry. Missus Limp seemed dolefully to agree. Patty
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  Speaker 1: Batch came then straight to the point. I've been faven up,
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  Speaker 1: said she. I've been hard at it for more'n thevenmonth.
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  Speaker 1: Missus Limp lifted her blue eyelids. Yup, said Patty briskly,
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  Speaker 1: And I got thirty four twenty three right here in
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  Speaker 1: my thkirt worth that baby. The baby was fetched and
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  Speaker 1: deposited in her arms. Boyer girl, Patty inquired, with business
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  Speaker 1: like precision. Boy, missus Limp sighed, thank god. Patty Batch
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  Speaker 1: was vastly disappointed she had fancied a girl. It was
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  Speaker 1: a shock, indeed to her ardor it was so much
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  Speaker 1: of a shocking disappointment that Patty Batch might easily have
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  Speaker 1: wept a boy. A boy. Oh shoot, but still, she reflected,
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  Speaker 1: considering the scarcity a boy. This boy in fact cleaned up.
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  Speaker 1: Patty Batch was all the time running the mottled infant
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  Speaker 1: over with sharply appraising eyes. Yes, the child had possibilities,
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  Speaker 1: unquestionably so which soap and water might astonishingly improve, And
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  Speaker 1: in fine this little boy might mitheth Limp said, Patty,
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  Speaker 1: looking that lady straight in the eye, I'll give you
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  Speaker 1: twenty five dollars for this here baby, by George, I
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  Speaker 1: will mother jumped out of her chair and her lassitude.
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  Speaker 1: At the same instant, not another thent Patty craftily declared,
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  Speaker 1: here take your baby, missus. Limp did not quite take
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  Speaker 1: the baby. That would be but a pale indication of
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  Speaker 1: the speed, directness, and outraged determination with which she acted.
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  Speaker 1: She snatched the baby away with the precision of a
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  Speaker 1: brisk woodpecker after an escaping worm. And she hugged it
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  Speaker 1: until it howled for mercy, and she hushed it, and
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  Speaker 1: she crooned endearment, and she kissed the baby with such
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  Speaker 1: fervor and persistency that she saved its puckered face awashing.
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  Speaker 1: And then she turned in a rage of indignation, in
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  Speaker 1: a storm of scorn, at a whirlwind of execration upon
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  Speaker 1: poor little Patty Batch. But Patty Batch was gone. Discreet
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  Speaker 1: Little Patty Batch didn't need to be told. Her little
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  Speaker 1: feet were already pattering over the trail to Swamp's end,
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  Speaker 1: and she was crying as she ran. But Patty Batch's
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  Speaker 1: wish for a baby went back to the very beginnings
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  Speaker 1: of things, ask Gingerbread Jenkins. Gingerbread Jenkins knows it was
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  Speaker 1: Gingerbread Jenkins who had found her long ago. Patty was
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  Speaker 1: little more than a baby herself then on the Bottle
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  Speaker 1: River trail, and to Gingerbread Jenkins's astonishment, the child was
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  Speaker 1: lugging a gun into the woods. Where you goin, says
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  Speaker 1: Gingerbread Jenkins. Gunnan gunnnna, what for? Jeff gunnen? But what
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  Speaker 1: you gunnun for? None? Yer bithneth, says saucy little Patty Batch.
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  Speaker 1: It is my business. Gingerbread Jenkins declared, an if you
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  Speaker 1: don't tell me what you're gunnin for, I'll have you
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  Speaker 1: home in a jiffy. Well, says Patty. I'm a gunnin what?
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  Speaker 1: Four storks? Says Patty? Going to kill em? Gingerbread inquired, No,
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  Speaker 1: says Patty. What's your gunnin for? I'm going to wing
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  Speaker 1: a couple, says Patty, and tame em. That was Patty Batch.
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  Speaker 1: End of chapter one The Wistful Heart. Chapter two of
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  Speaker 1: Christmas Eve at Swamp's End by Norman Duncan. This LibriVox
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  Speaker 1: recording is in the public domain. Chapter two a gift neglected. Well, Well,
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  Speaker 1: there was only one baby at Swamp's end, and that
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  Speaker 1: baby Patty Batch had adopted in her mind. Of course,
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  Speaker 1: quite on the sly nobody could adopt pale Peter's bartender's
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  Speaker 1: baby in any other way. And here was Christmas come again,
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  Speaker 1: day gone beyond the last waving pines, in a cold
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  Speaker 1: flush of red and gold Christmas Eve. Here, at last,
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  Speaker 1: Patty Batch's soft arms were still wanting. There were a
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  Speaker 1: thousand kisses waiting on her tender lips forgiving. Her voice
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  Speaker 1: was all attuned to crooning sweetest lullabies, but her heart
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  Speaker 1: was empty, save for a child of mist and wishes.
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  Speaker 1: It was dark now, but though the wind was still
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  Speaker 1: rollicking down, there was no snow blowing, and the shy
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  Speaker 1: stars were winking wide eyed upon the busy world and
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  Speaker 1: all the myriad mysteries it exhibited. Out of doors, the
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  Speaker 1: gift of silk and fawn skin was finished, a perfect gift,
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  Speaker 1: fashioned and accomplished with all the dexterity Patty Batch could employ,
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  Speaker 1: just as if she had determined it was for my
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  Speaker 1: own baby. And Patty Batch, after an agitated glance at
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  Speaker 1: the clock, quickly shewed and cloaked and hooded her sweet
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  Speaker 1: and blooming little self, And she listened to the lusty wind,
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  Speaker 1: and she put a most adorable little nose out of
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  Speaker 1: doors to sense the frosty weather. And she fluttered about
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  Speaker 1: the warm room in search of her mittens. And then
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  Speaker 1: she turned down the lamp, chucked a log in the stove,
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  Speaker 1: put on the dampers like a prudent householder, and having
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  Speaker 1: made quite sure that the door was latched, scampered off
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  Speaker 1: to town in vast and twittering delight. With the nipping frost,
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  Speaker 1: with the roistering wind, the fluffy snow, the stars, the
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  Speaker 1: whole of God's clean world, and with herself too, and
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  Speaker 1: with the blessed night of the year. She was exceedingly cautious,
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  Speaker 1: and she was not observed, not for the smallest flash.
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  Speaker 1: The thing was accomplished in mystery before she was aware
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  Speaker 1: of it, before her heart had eased its agitation. She
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  Speaker 1: was safely out again, And there in plain view, on
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  Speaker 1: the table in Pale Peter's living room behind the saloon
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  Speaker 1: lay the gift of silk and fawn skin for Pale
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  Speaker 1: Peter's bartender's baby, a Christmas mystery for them all to
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  Speaker 1: solve as best they could. Patty Badge peeked in at
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  Speaker 1: the window. I wonder, she mused, if they'll ever, if
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  Speaker 1: they'll ever in the world find out I'd done it. Presently,
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  Speaker 1: Pale Peter's bartender came in. This was Charlie the Infidel.
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  Speaker 1: Paddy Batch rose on her cold little toes, the better
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  Speaker 1: to observe. The frost exploded like pistol shots under her feet.
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  Speaker 1: She started really the little mite began to feel and
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  Speaker 1: rather exquisitely, like a thief in the night. There was
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  Speaker 1: another explosion of frost as she crept nearer her peak
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  Speaker 1: hole in the glowing window. Whew, how deliciously mysterious. It was.
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  Speaker 1: Nothing much, however, happened in Pale Peter's living room. To
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  Speaker 1: continue the thrill, Charlie the Infidel, in haste chanced to
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  Speaker 1: brush the fawnskin cloak off the table. He paused impatiently
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  Speaker 1: to pick it up and to fling it back in
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  Speaker 1: a heap, whereupon he pressed on to the bar. That
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  Speaker 1: wasn't very thrilling, you may be sure, But Charlie the Infidel,
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  Speaker 1: after all, was only a father and Patty Patch, her courage,
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  Speaker 1: not at all diminished, still waited in the frosty shadow,
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  Speaker 1: quite absorbed, in expectation, entered then missus Bartender, a blonde,
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  Speaker 1: bored novel reading little lady in splendid array. First of all,
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  Speaker 1: as Patty Batch observed, she yawned. Secondly, she yawned again,
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  Speaker 1: And she was about to attempt the extraordinary feat of
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  Speaker 1: yawning a third time, and doubtless would have achieved it,
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  Speaker 1: when her washed blue eyes chanced to fall on the
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  Speaker 1: fawnskin coat with its lining of golden brown silk shimmering
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  Speaker 1: in the lamp light. She picked it up, of course,
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  Speaker 1: in a bored sort of way, and she was positively
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  Speaker 1: on the very verge of being interested in it. When
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  Speaker 1: would you believe it, she attacked the third yawn or
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  Speaker 1: the third yawn attacked her, And however it was, the
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  Speaker 1: yawn was accomplished with such dexterity, such certainty, and with
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  Speaker 1: such satisfaction to the lady, that she quite forgot to
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  Speaker 1: look at the fawnskin cloak again. By George, she's tired,
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  Speaker 1: Patty Batch exclaimed to herself. Patty Batch sighed. She sighed twice,
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  Speaker 1: in point of fact, the second sigh a great long one,
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  Speaker 1: discovering itself somewhere very deep within. And then she went
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  Speaker 1: home disconsolate end of chapter two a gift neglected Chapter
• 25:01
  Speaker 1: three of Christmas Eve at Swamp's End by Norman Duncan.
• 25:06
  Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter three,
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  Speaker 1: The Making of a Man. Soon after dark, John Fairmeadow,
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  Speaker 1: with a pack on his broad back, swung from the
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  Speaker 1: jumping Jimmy trail into the clearing of Swamp's End, ceasing
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  Speaker 1: only then his high vibrant song, and came striding down
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  Speaker 1: the huddled street, a big man in rare humor, with life,
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  Speaker 1: labor and the night. A shadow not John Fairmeadow's shadow
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  Speaker 1: was in cautious pursuit. But of this dark secret follower,
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  Speaker 1: John Fairmeadow was not aware. Near the Cafe of Egyptian Delights,
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  Speaker 1: he stumbled, the pursuing shadow gasped, and John Fairmeadow was
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  Speaker 1: so mightily exercised for his pack that he ejaculated in
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  Speaker 1: a fashion most unministerial, but recovered his footing with a jerk,
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  Speaker 1: and doubtless near turned pale with apprehension. But the pack
• 26:17
  Speaker 1: was safe, the delicate contents, whatever they were, quite undisturbed.
• 26:23
  Speaker 1: John Fairmeadow gently adjusted the pack, stamped the snow from
• 26:28
  Speaker 1: his souls as a precautionary measure, wiped the frost from
• 26:32
  Speaker 1: his brows and eyelids in the same cautious wisdom, and
• 26:37
  Speaker 1: still followed by the shadow strode on, but with infinitely
• 26:42
  Speaker 1: more care. At the red elephant Pale Peter's glowing saloon.
• 26:48
  Speaker 1: He turned in the bar, as always in these days,
• 26:52
  Speaker 1: gave the young apostle to those unrighteous parts a roaring welcome.
• 26:58
  Speaker 1: It was become a fashion, big, bubbling, rosy john fairmeadow,
• 27:03
  Speaker 1: with the square jaw, the frank admonitory tongue, the tender
• 27:08
  Speaker 1: and persuasive heart, the competent not unwilling fists, was welcome everywhere,
• 27:15
  Speaker 1: from the Bottle River camps and the Canthook cutting to
• 27:19
  Speaker 1: the bunk houses of the Yellow Tail, from beyond the
• 27:22
  Speaker 1: Divide to the lower waters of the Big River. In
• 27:26
  Speaker 1: every saloon, bunk house, superintendent's office, and cook's quarters of
• 27:32
  Speaker 1: this wide green parish, welcome to preach and to pray,
• 27:37
  Speaker 1: to bury, merry, gossip and scold, and upon goodly provocation,
• 27:43
  Speaker 1: to fight all to the same righteous end. A clean man,
• 27:48
  Speaker 1: a big, broad shouldered, deep chested, long legged body, with
• 27:53
  Speaker 1: a soul to match it, a glowing heart and a
• 27:56
  Speaker 1: purpose lifted high, there was no mistaking the man by men,
• 28:03
  Speaker 1: John Fairmeadow, clad like a lumberjack, upright now in the
• 28:07
  Speaker 1: full stature of a man, body and soul grinned like
• 28:12
  Speaker 1: a delighted schoolboy. His fine head was thrown back in
• 28:16
  Speaker 1: the pride of clean, sure strength. His broad face was
• 28:21
  Speaker 1: in a rosy glow, his great chest still heaved with
• 28:25
  Speaker 1: the labor of a stormy trail. His gray eyes flashed
• 28:30
  Speaker 1: and twinkled in the soft light of pale Peter's many lamps,
• 28:35
  Speaker 1: twinkled and with merriment in that long, stifling, roaring, smoky
• 28:42
  Speaker 1: fume laden room for a moment, then closed, a bit
• 28:47
  Speaker 1: worn and melancholy too, but presently, with reviving faith to
• 28:53
  Speaker 1: urge them, opened wide and heartily and began to twinkle again.
• 28:59
  Speaker 1: The bar was in festive array Christmas greens, red berries, ribbons,
• 29:04
  Speaker 1: tissue paper and gleaming tinfoil, flash of mirrors, bright color
• 29:11
  Speaker 1: branches of pine, cedar and spruce from the big balsamic woods.
• 29:16
  Speaker 1: It was crowded with lumberjacks, great fellows from the forest,
• 29:21
  Speaker 1: big of body and passion. Here gathered in celebration of
• 29:26
  Speaker 1: the festival. John Fairmeadow, getting all at once and vigorously underway,
• 29:33
  Speaker 1: shouted Merry Christmas, boys, and Hello Charlie to the bartender,
• 29:39
  Speaker 1: and he shook hands with Pale Peter, slapped Billy the
• 29:42
  Speaker 1: Beast on the back, roared agreeeding to gingerbread. Jenkins exclaimed
• 29:47
  Speaker 1: Merry Christmas with the speed and detonation of a gatling gun.
• 29:52
  Speaker 1: Inquired after Butcher Long's brood of kids in the east,
• 29:56
  Speaker 1: and cried hello old man, and what's the a good
• 30:00
  Speaker 1: word from yellow Tail, and how to do? And glad
• 30:04
  Speaker 1: to see you and everywhere, shook hands and clapped backs,
• 30:09
  Speaker 1: carefully preserving, however, his own back from being slapped, and
• 30:14
  Speaker 1: devoutly ejaculated, God bless you men, A Merry Christmas to
• 30:19
  Speaker 1: you all and every one, and eventually disappeared in the
• 30:24
  Speaker 1: direction of Pale Peter's living quarters, leaving an uproar of
• 30:29
  Speaker 1: genial delight behind him. John Fairmeadow's shadow, however, unable to
• 30:35
  Speaker 1: enter the bar of the Red Elephant, waited in seclusion
• 30:39
  Speaker 1: across the windy street. Missus Bartender was still yawning as
• 30:46
  Speaker 1: John Fairmeadow entered upon her on WII. But when the
• 30:50
  Speaker 1: Big Minister, exercising the softest sort of caution, slipped off
• 30:55
  Speaker 1: his gigantic pack and deposited it with exquis lviisitly delicate
• 31:01
  Speaker 1: care and a face of deep concern. On the table.
• 31:05
  Speaker 1: She opened her faded eyes with interested curiosity. And as
• 31:11
  Speaker 1: for the contents of the pack, there's no more concealing them.
• 31:16
  Speaker 1: The article must now be declared and produced. It was
• 31:21
  Speaker 1: a baby. Of course, it was a baby. The thing
• 31:26
  Speaker 1: has been obvious all along. John Fairmeadow's foundling, left in
• 31:31
  Speaker 1: a basket at the threshold of his temporary lodging room
• 31:35
  Speaker 1: at Big Rapids that very morning, first to John Fairmeadow's
• 31:40
  Speaker 1: consternation and then to his gleeful delight. As for the
• 31:46
  Speaker 1: baby itself, it was presently unswathed. It is quite beyond
• 31:51
  Speaker 1: me to describe its excellence of appearance and conduct. John
• 31:57
  Speaker 1: Fairmeadow himself couldn't make the attempt and escape annihilation. It
• 32:03
  Speaker 1: was a real and regular baby. However, one might suggest,
• 32:08
  Speaker 1: in inadequate description that it was a plump baby. One
• 32:13
  Speaker 1: might add that it was a lusty baby. It had hair,
• 32:17
  Speaker 1: It had a pucker of amazement. Its eyes, two of
• 32:21
  Speaker 1: them were properly disposed in its head. Its hands were
• 32:26
  Speaker 1: of what are called rose leaf dimensions. It had apparently
• 32:31
  Speaker 1: a fixed habit of squirming, It had no teeth, evidently
• 32:37
  Speaker 1: a healthy baby, a baby that any mother might be
• 32:40
  Speaker 1: proud of, doubtless a marvel of infantile perfection in every respect.
• 32:47
  Speaker 1: I should not venture to dispute such an assertion, Nor
• 32:51
  Speaker 1: would John Fairmeadow, nor any other bold gentleman of Swamp's
• 32:56
  Speaker 1: End and elegant Corners not in these later days. Missus Bartender,
• 33:03
  Speaker 1: of course, lifted her languid white hands in uttermost astonishment.
• 33:09
  Speaker 1: There John Fairmeadow exploded, looking round like a showman. What
• 33:14
  Speaker 1: do you think of that? Uh? But mister Fairmeadow, the
• 33:18
  Speaker 1: poor lady stammered, what have you brought it here for?
• 33:23
  Speaker 1: Why not? John Fairmeadow demanded, why not? Indeed, it's perfectly polite.
• 33:30
  Speaker 1: What am I to do with it? Oh? It isn't intoxicated,
• 33:35
  Speaker 1: My good woman. John Fairmeadow ran on in great wrath,
• 33:40
  Speaker 1: and it's never been in jail. But my dear mister
• 33:44
  Speaker 1: fair Meadow, do be sensible? What am I to do
• 33:48
  Speaker 1: with it? Why? Uh? I should think? John Fairmeadow ventured
• 33:54
  Speaker 1: the baby was still sleeping like a brick that you
• 33:58
  Speaker 1: might first of all, resuscitate, it would a slight poke
• 34:04
  Speaker 1: in the ribs provoke animation. But the baby didn't need
• 34:09
  Speaker 1: a poke in the ribs. It didn't need any other
• 34:13
  Speaker 1: sort of resuscitation. Not that baby, the self dependent, courageous,
• 34:19
  Speaker 1: perfectly competent and winning little rascal, resuscitated itself instantly too,
• 34:26
  Speaker 1: and positively, and apparently without the least effort in the world. Moreover,
• 34:33
  Speaker 1: and with remarkable directness, it demanded what it wanted and
• 34:38
  Speaker 1: got it. And, having been nourished to its satisfaction from
• 34:43
  Speaker 1: young Master Bartender's silver mounted bottle, which John fairmetto then
• 34:49
  Speaker 1: secretly slipped into his pocket, and having yawned in a
• 34:53
  Speaker 1: fashion so tremendous that Missus Bartender herself could never hope
• 34:58
  Speaker 1: to equal that infinite a expression of boredom, And having smiled,
• 35:03
  Speaker 1: and having wriggled, and having giggled and cowed and attempted,
• 35:09
  Speaker 1: actually attempted to get its great toe in its mouth,
• 35:13
  Speaker 1: without extraneous assistance of any sort whatsoever, even without the
• 35:19
  Speaker 1: slightest suggestion that such a thing would be an amazingly
• 35:24
  Speaker 1: engaging trick in a baby of its age and degree,
• 35:29
  Speaker 1: it burst into a gurgle of glee, so wondrously genuine
• 35:33
  Speaker 1: and infectious that poor bored Missus Bartender herself was quite
• 35:39
  Speaker 1: unable to resist it, and promptly and publicly and finally
• 35:45
  Speaker 1: committed herself to the assertion that the baby was a
• 35:49
  Speaker 1: deer wherever it came from. John Fairmeadow snatched it from
• 35:54
  Speaker 1: the table and was about to make off with it,
• 35:57
  Speaker 1: when Missus Bartender interposed. My dear mister Fairmeadow, said she
• 36:04
  Speaker 1: that child will simply catch its death of gold. There
• 36:08
  Speaker 1: was something handy, however, something of silk and fawn skin,
• 36:14
  Speaker 1: And with this enveloping the baby, John Fairmeadow swung in
• 36:18
  Speaker 1: a roar with it to the bar and held it
• 36:22
  Speaker 1: aloft in all that seething wickedness, pure symbol of the
• 36:26
  Speaker 1: blessed Christmas festival. And there was a sensation, of course,
• 36:32
  Speaker 1: a sensation beginning in vociferous ejaculations, but presently failing to
• 36:39
  Speaker 1: a buzz of conjecture. There were questions to follow, to
• 36:44
  Speaker 1: which John Fairmeadow answered that he had found the baby,
• 36:49
  Speaker 1: that the baby was nobody's baby, that the baby was
• 36:53
  Speaker 1: his baby by right of finders keepers, that the baby
• 36:57
  Speaker 1: was everybody's baby, and that the baby would presently be
• 37:01
  Speaker 1: somebody's much loved baby, that he'd vouch for. The baby,
• 37:08
  Speaker 1: now resting content in John Fermettow's arms, was diffidently approached
• 37:13
  Speaker 1: and examined. Gingerbread Jenkins poked a finger at it and said,
• 37:19
  Speaker 1: in a voice of the most inimicable description, get out
• 37:24
  Speaker 1: without disturbing the baby's serene equanimity. In the slightest young
• 37:30
  Speaker 1: Billy Lush, charging his soft boyish voice with all the
• 37:34
  Speaker 1: horrifying intent he could muster, threatened to catch the baby,
• 37:38
  Speaker 1: as though bent upon devouring it on the spot, but
• 37:42
  Speaker 1: the baby only chuckled with delight. Billy the Beast incautiously
• 37:48
  Speaker 1: approached a finger near the baby's stout abdomen, and the baby,
• 37:53
  Speaker 1: with a perfectly fearless glance into the very depths of
• 37:57
  Speaker 1: the beast's frowsy beard, clutched the finger and smiled like
• 38:01
  Speaker 1: an angel. Long Butcher Long attempted to tweak the baby's nose,
• 38:07
  Speaker 1: but the effort was a ridiculous failure, practiced so clumsily
• 38:12
  Speaker 1: on an object so small, and the only effect was
• 38:16
  Speaker 1: to cause the baby to achieve a tremendous wriggle and
• 38:20
  Speaker 1: a loud scream of laughter. These experiments were variously repeated,
• 38:28
  Speaker 1: but all with the same cherubic result. The baby conducted
• 38:32
  Speaker 1: itself with admirable self possession and courage, as though indeed
• 38:38
  Speaker 1: it had been used every hour of its life to
• 38:42
  Speaker 1: the company of riotous lumberjacks in town. The inevitable happened.
• 38:47
  Speaker 1: Of course, Billy the beast, whose pocket was smoking with
• 38:51
  Speaker 1: his wages, proposed the baby's health, and there was an
• 38:56
  Speaker 1: uproarious rush for the bar. Just a minute, boy, John
• 39:01
  Speaker 1: Fairmeadow drawled. It was an awkward moment, but the jacks
• 39:06
  Speaker 1: were by this time used to being bidden by this man,
• 39:09
  Speaker 1: who was a man, and the rush was forthwith halted.
• 39:14
  Speaker 1: Just a minute, boys, John Fairmeadow repeated, for your minister.
• 39:19
  Speaker 1: The baby was then held aloft in John Fairmeadow's big, kind,
• 39:23
  Speaker 1: sensitive hands, and from this safe perch softly smiled upon
• 39:28
  Speaker 1: the crowd of flushed and bearded faces all round about. Boys,
• 39:35
  Speaker 1: John Fairmeadow drawled significantly, this is the only sort of
• 39:40
  Speaker 1: church we have in these woods. There was a laughing,
• 39:44
  Speaker 1: stir and shuffling, but presently a tolerant silence fell in
• 39:49
  Speaker 1: obedience to the custom John Fairmeadow had established, and caps
• 39:54
  Speaker 1: came off and pipes were smothered a little away from
• 39:58
  Speaker 1: the bar. Please, the big preacher, suggested Pale Peter nodded
• 40:03
  Speaker 1: to Charlie the Infidel, and the clink of glasses ceased,
• 40:07
  Speaker 1: and the bottles were left in peace, and the hands
• 40:11
  Speaker 1: of the bartender rested. Now, boys, said John Fermeadow, letting
• 40:16
  Speaker 1: the foundling fall softly into his arms. I'm not going
• 40:20
  Speaker 1: to preach to you to night, though God knows you
• 40:23
  Speaker 1: need it. I'm just going to pray for the baby,
• 40:28
  Speaker 1: dear father of us, all wilful children of the veil.
• 40:32
  Speaker 1: He began at once, lifting a placid, believing face above
• 40:37
  Speaker 1: the smiling child in his arms. We ask thy guardianship
• 40:41
  Speaker 1: of this child in us. Is no perfect counsel for him,
• 40:46
  Speaker 1: nor any help whatsoever that he may surely apprehend in
• 40:51
  Speaker 1: thine acceptable wisdom. Thou settest thy little ones in a
• 40:55
  Speaker 1: world where presently only thou canst teach them. Teach thou,
• 41:01
  Speaker 1: then this little one Thou alone knowest the right path
• 41:05
  Speaker 1: for a little boy's inquiring feet lead. Then this little
• 41:10
  Speaker 1: boy thou alone art saving helper to an adventuring lad. Help.
• 41:16
  Speaker 1: Then this lad thou alone art all perceiving and persuasive alone,
• 41:22
  Speaker 1: art truth teller to a bewildered youth, and good example
• 41:27
  Speaker 1: in his wondering sight. Be then, good example and teller
• 41:32
  Speaker 1: of truth to this youth. Thou alone art in the
• 41:36
  Speaker 1: fashioning ways of thine own world, a maker of men.
• 41:40
  Speaker 1: Make then, of this little child a man. We ask
• 41:45
  Speaker 1: no easy path for him, no unmanly way, no indulgent
• 41:50
  Speaker 1: tempering of the wind. We pray for, no riches, for
• 41:55
  Speaker 1: no great deeds of his doing. For no ease at all,
• 41:59
  Speaker 1: nor any satisfaction. We ask of THEE in his behalf
• 42:04
  Speaker 1: good manhood. Lead him where true men must go, Lead
• 42:10
  Speaker 1: him where they learn thee all of life. Lead him
• 42:14
  Speaker 1: where they level down and build again. Lead him where
• 42:18
  Speaker 1: in righteous strength his hands may lift the fallen. Lead
• 42:22
  Speaker 1: him where in anger he may strike, Lead him where
• 42:26
  Speaker 1: his tears may fall, Lead him where his heart may
• 42:30
  Speaker 1: find a pure desire. O, Almighty God, Lover of children,
• 42:37
  Speaker 1: Father of us all alike, make of this child, in
• 42:41
  Speaker 1: the measure of his service and in the stature of
• 42:44
  Speaker 1: his soul, a man, Amen, Amen, indeed. End of Chapter three,
• 42:55
  Speaker 1: The Making of a Man. Chapter four of Christmas Eve
• 43:05
  Speaker 1: at Swamp's End by Norman Duncan. This LibriVox recording is
• 43:11
  Speaker 1: in the public domain. Chapter four Christmas Eve at Swamp's End.
• 43:19
  Speaker 1: As for poor little Patty Batch, all this while she
• 43:23
  Speaker 1: sat alone, a doleful heart, in the shack at the
• 43:27
  Speaker 1: edge of the big black woods, quite unaware of the
• 43:31
  Speaker 1: momentous advent of a Christmas baby. At Swamp's End, the
• 43:35
  Speaker 1: Christmas wind was still high, still shaking the cabin, still
• 43:40
  Speaker 1: rattling the door, still howling like a wild beast in
• 43:44
  Speaker 1: the night, still roaring in the red stove, and snow
• 43:49
  Speaker 1: was falling again, a dry dust of snow which veiled
• 43:53
  Speaker 1: the wondering stars. It was no longer a jolly, rollicking
• 43:58
  Speaker 1: Christmas wind. The gale, now, it seemed, was become inimicable
• 44:03
  Speaker 1: to the lonely child, wild, vaunting, merciless, terrible with cold.
• 44:10
  Speaker 1: Patty Badge disconsolate, sighed more often than a tender heart
• 44:15
  Speaker 1: could bear to sanction in a child, and found swift
• 44:19
  Speaker 1: visions in the glowing coals, though no enlivening tableaux, but dear,
• 44:26
  Speaker 1: brave and human little one, she presently ejaculated shoot it anyhow,
• 44:32
  Speaker 1: and began at once to cheer up. And she was
• 44:35
  Speaker 1: comfortably toasting her shins in a placid delusion of stormy
• 44:40
  Speaker 1: mild wide privacy, her mother's old fashioned long black skirt
• 44:45
  Speaker 1: drawn up from her dainty toes, of which, of course,
• 44:49
  Speaker 1: the eminent John Fairmetto was never permitted to be aware.
• 44:54
  Speaker 1: When all at once, and clamoring above the old wind's howling,
• 44:59
  Speaker 1: there was a tremendous knocking at the door, a knocking
• 45:03
  Speaker 1: so loud and commanding and prolonged that Paddy Batch jumped
• 45:09
  Speaker 1: like a fawn in alarm, and stood for a moment
• 45:12
  Speaker 1: with palpitating heart and a mighty inclination to fly to
• 45:17
  Speaker 1: the bedroom and lock herself in. Presently, however, she mustered
• 45:22
  Speaker 1: courage to call come in in a sufficient tone, whereupon
• 45:28
  Speaker 1: the door was immediately flung wide, and Big John Fairmeadow,
• 45:32
  Speaker 1: with a wild, dusty blast of the gale, strode in
• 45:36
  Speaker 1: with a gigantic basket and slammed the door behind him,
• 45:41
  Speaker 1: leaving the shivering, tenacious shadow, which had secretly followed from
• 45:45
  Speaker 1: Swamp's end to keep cold vigil outside. Hello there, Patty Batch,
• 45:52
  Speaker 1: John Fairmeadow roared, Merry Christmas. Patty Batch stared, Hello, I say,
• 46:00
  Speaker 1: John Fairmeadow cried again, Merry Christmas. You rascal. Paddy Batch,
• 46:05
  Speaker 1: gulping her delight and quite incapable of uttering a word
• 46:10
  Speaker 1: because of it, flew to the kitchen instead of to
• 46:13
  Speaker 1: the bedroom, and returned with a broom with which, while
• 46:17
  Speaker 1: the shadow peeked in at the window, she brushed and
• 46:21
  Speaker 1: scraped and slapped John Fairmeadow so vigorously that John Fairmeadow
• 46:26
  Speaker 1: scampered into a corner and stood at bay. Look out there,
• 46:31
  Speaker 1: Polly pry He shouted, in a rage. Don't you dare
• 46:35
  Speaker 1: look in my basket. Patty Batch had been doing nothing
• 46:39
  Speaker 1: of the sort. Don't you so much as squint at
• 46:43
  Speaker 1: my basket, John Fairmeadow growled. Paddy Batch instantly did, of course,
• 46:50
  Speaker 1: and with her eyes wide and sparkling too, it was
• 46:54
  Speaker 1: really something more than a squint. Keep your eyes off
• 46:58
  Speaker 1: that basket, miss Prye. John Fametto commanded again. Huh, he complained,
• 47:04
  Speaker 1: emerging from his refuge and throwing his mackinaw and cap
• 47:09
  Speaker 1: on the floor. Anybody'd think there was something in that
• 47:12
  Speaker 1: basket for you? There? If Patty Batch gasped in ecstasy,
• 47:18
  Speaker 1: is John Fairmeadow scornfully mocked? Huh? Patty Batch caught John
• 47:25
  Speaker 1: Fairmeadow by the two lapels of his coat, and she
• 47:29
  Speaker 1: stood on tiptoe, and she wouldn't let John Fermeadow turn
• 47:33
  Speaker 1: his head away as if John Fairmeadow cared to evade
• 47:37
  Speaker 1: those round, glowing eyes, And she looked into his gray
• 47:41
  Speaker 1: eyes with a bewitching conglomeration of hope, amusement, curiosity, and
• 47:48
  Speaker 1: adoring childish affection. There if too, she chuckled, her lisp,
• 47:54
  Speaker 1: getting the better of her Yes there, if I know
• 47:57
  Speaker 1: you Mithter Fairmeadow, John Fermedo ridiculously failed to smother a
• 48:03
  Speaker 1: chuckle in a growl. Doth it bite? Paddy Batch inquired, maliciously,
• 48:09
  Speaker 1: feigning a terrific fright. Nonsense, John Fermedow declared, it hasn't
• 48:15
  Speaker 1: a tooth in its head. He added, with one eye
• 48:19
  Speaker 1: closed and palms uplifted. But aha, just you wait and
• 48:25
  Speaker 1: see well, Paddy Batch drawled. I thuppo if a turkey,
• 48:31
  Speaker 1: if certainly thumthin to eat? She declared, good enough to eat.
• 48:36
  Speaker 1: I bet you. John Fairmeadow agreed, with the air of
• 48:40
  Speaker 1: having concealed in that veritable big basket the sweetest morsel
• 48:45
  Speaker 1: in all the world. If it a chicken, nonsense, said
• 48:50
  Speaker 1: John Fermeado, It's far more delicious than chicken. Hi there,
• 48:56
  Speaker 1: Paul Pry, he roared, and just in time, keep your
• 49:01
  Speaker 1: hands off. Is it anything for the house? No, indeed,
• 49:07
  Speaker 1: the house is for it, Patty Batch scowled in perplexity.
• 49:13
  Speaker 1: The back yard too. John Fairmeadow added, and don't you
• 49:17
  Speaker 1: forget that this whole place and all the world belongs
• 49:22
  Speaker 1: to Just what's in that basket? I'm sure, poor Patty
• 49:28
  Speaker 1: Batch mused, scratching her curls in bewilderment. I can't guess
• 49:33
  Speaker 1: what it could be. Both were now staring at the basket,
• 49:38
  Speaker 1: and at that very moment the blanket covering stirred. If
• 49:43
  Speaker 1: a dog, Patty Batch exclaimed, dog, The outraged John Fairmedo
• 49:49
  Speaker 1: roared nothing of the sort. No, ma'am. Patty Batch clasped
• 49:55
  Speaker 1: her hands. It is too, she cried, I thought, move
• 49:58
  Speaker 1: it is not. If a kitten, then it is not
• 50:03
  Speaker 1: a kitten. Thereupon, while the shadow by whom John Fairmeadow
• 50:09
  Speaker 1: had been dogged that night, now peered with acute attention
• 50:13
  Speaker 1: through a break in the frost on the window pane. Thereupon,
• 50:17
  Speaker 1: without any warning, save a second slight movement of the blanket,
• 50:22
  Speaker 1: a sound, and not by any means a growl. The
• 50:26
  Speaker 1: thing was certainly not a dog. A sound proceeded from
• 50:30
  Speaker 1: the depths of the basket. Patty Badge jumped away. Well well,
• 50:36
  Speaker 1: cried John Fairmeadow, what's the row? Row? Indeed, Patty Batch
• 50:43
  Speaker 1: was gone white, and she swayed a little and shivered too,
• 50:47
  Speaker 1: and clenched her little hands to restrain her amazing hope, Oh,
• 50:53
  Speaker 1: she moaned at last, far short of breath, enough, tell
• 50:57
  Speaker 1: me quick, is it is it? Ah? Ah? John Fairmeadow
• 51:02
  Speaker 1: threw back the blanket in a most dramatic fashion, and there,
• 51:06
  Speaker 1: wrapped in the neglected fawnskin cloak, all dimpled and smiling,
• 51:11
  Speaker 1: lay the baby by George screamed the Patty Batch, it
• 51:17
  Speaker 1: if a baby, your baby, John Fairmeadow whispered God's Christmas
• 51:24
  Speaker 1: gift to you, Patty Batch. Adorable young mother reverently approached
• 51:31
  Speaker 1: and bending with parted lips, eyes shining, and hands laid
• 51:36
  Speaker 1: upon her trembling heart for the first time, gazed content
• 51:40
  Speaker 1: upon the little face. She lifted then and with what
• 51:45
  Speaker 1: awe and tenderness, the tiny mortal from the warm basket,
• 51:50
  Speaker 1: and pressed it with knowing arms against her warmer, softer,
• 51:54
  Speaker 1: young breast. My baby, she groaned, her lips close to
• 52:00
  Speaker 1: its ear. My little baby, my own little baby. End
• 52:07
  Speaker 1: of chapter four, Christmas Eve at Swamp's End. End of
• 52:13
  Speaker 1: the book Christmas Eve at Swamp's End by Norman Duncan