His costume did not indicate any great share of prosperity. But it was
his face that riveted attention. Thin, cherry-red, and wind-dried as old wood,
it had a special sort of brightness, with waves of silvery hair,
and blue eyes that seemed to shine. Standing by the rails of an enclosure, with his lips pursed and his
cheeks drawn in, he
would emit the most enticing trills and pipings, exactly imitating various
birds.
One
day, I saw him coming along alone, looking sad, but still
with that queer brightness about him. Presently
I caught the words: "God
cannot be like us." On an impulse, I said: ''Why?" He turned
without surprise. "I've
lost my landlady's little girl," be said. "Dead ! And only seven years
old."
"That
little thing! I used to watch you." "Did
you? Did you? I'm glad you saw her." "I
used to see you looking at flowers, and trees, and those ducks." His
face brightened wistfully. "Yes; she was a great companion to an old man
like me." "We
were great friends ! But I
couldn't expect it. Things don't last, do they?" I was glad
to notice that his voice was getting cheerful.
"When
I was in the orchestra at the Harmony Theatre, it never used to occur to me
that some day I
shouldn't play there any more. One
felt like a bird. That's the beauty of music, sir. You· lose yourself; like
that blackbird there." He
imitated the note of a blackbird so perfectly that I could have swom the bird
started.
 |
| Birds and flowers! Wonderful things! |
"Birds and flowers ! Wonderful things;
wonderful I Why, even a buttercup- !" He pointed at one of those little
golden flowers with his toe. "Did you ever see such a marvellous
thing?"
"Delighted,"
he said; "delighted. I make
friends of the creatures and flowers as much as possible, but they can't always
make us understand."
Next time
I came across him standing by the rails of an enclosure, and, in his arms, an
old and really
wretched-looking cat. "I
don't like boys," he said, without preliminary of any sort. "What do
you think they were doing to this poor old cat? Dragging it along by a string
to drown it; see where it's cut into the fur ! I think boys despise the old and
weak! "
 |
| Such a depth of Life! |
He held
it out to me. At the ends of those little sticks of arms the beast looked more
dead than alive; I
had never seen a more miserable creature. "I
think a cat," he said, "is one of the most marvellous things in the
world. Such a depth of life in it."
And, as
he spoke, the cat opened its mouth as if protesting at that assertion. It was
the sorriest-looking beast. "What
are you going to do with it?" "Take
it home; it looks to me as if it might die." "You
don't think that might be more merciful?"
"It depends; it depends. I shall see.
I fancy a little kindness might do a great deal for it. It's got plenty of spirit. I can see from its
eye."
"You'll
find this'll be quite a different cat tomorrow," he said. "I shall
have to get in, though, without my landlady seeing; a funny woman I I have two
or three strays already." The old friend's room, was fairly large and bare. A large bird-cage on the wall
hung wide open. The place smelt a little of beasts and birds.
 |
| Bullfinch, the inseparable companion! |
Besides the new cat, there were three other cats and four birds,
all - save one, a bullfinch - invalids. The
cats kept close to the walls, avoiding me, but wherever my little old friend
went, they followed him with their eyes. The birds were in the cage, except the
bullfinch, which had perched on his shoulder.
Till
their legs or wings are mended, they hardly come out of the cage. But they
don't stay long, you know, when they're once well." "And
then they'll go?" "Yes.
The sparrow first, and then the two thrushes.'' "And
were all those cats, too, in trouble?" "Yes,"
he said. "They wouldn't want me if they weren't."
It seemed time to go. "Delighted
to see you, sir," he said, "any day." And, pointing up at the
bullfinch on his bead, he added: "Did you ever see anything
so wonderful as that bird? The size of its heart I Really marvellous!''
After
that I saw him often, going with him sometimes to buy food for his cats, which
seemed ever to increase in numbers. His
talk was always of his strays, and the marvels of creation, and that time of
his life when he played the flute at the Harmony Theatre. He had
been out of a job, it
seemed, for more than ten years; and, when questioned, only sighed and
answered: "Don't
talk about it, please ! " He struggled on from week to week, getting out and collecting
strays, and discovering the marvels of creation, and finding her a funny woman.
One July
afternoon, he had been taken dangerously
ill. "There
he is," she said; "can't touch a thing. It's my belief he's
done for himself, giving his food away all these years to those cats of his. "What
does the doctor say?" "Double
pneumonia - caught it getting his feet wet, after some stray, I'll be bound.
I'm nursing him. There has to be some one with him all the time." He was
lying very still when I went up, with the sunlight falling across the foot of
his bed, and, sure
enough, the bullfinch perching on his pillow. In that
high fever he looked brighter than ever.
"Mr.
Jackson! He'll be here soon. Mr. Jackson I He'll do it for me. I can ask him,
if I die. A funny woman. I don't want to eat; I'm not a great eater - I want my
breath, that's all." At
sound of his voice the bullfinch fluttered off the pillow and flew round and
round the room, as if
alarmed at something new in the tones that were coming from its master.
"I think I'm going to die," he said;
"I'm very weak. It's lucky, there's nobody to mind. If only he'd come
soon. I wish"- and he raised himself with feeble excitement - I want
him to promise me to take them, and bully-boy, and feed them with my money,
when I'm dead." Presently
there came the sound of a motor-car in the little street below. "Here
he ·is," she whispered. "Mr.
Jackson?" "The
same. How is the little old chap?"
I
described the situation. "He seems to think," I ended, "that
you'll be kind enough to charge yourself with his strays, in case he should
die." "H'm!
Stray cats, you say, and a bird! Well, there's no accounting. He was always a
cracky little chap. So that's it ! We pay
him his five quid a quarter regular to this day. He deserved it.
Thirty years he was at our shop; never missed a night. First-rate flute he was.
He ought never to have given it up, though I always thought it showed a bit of
heart in him.
"We were having a rocky time at the Harmony; had to cut down everything we
could - music, well, that came about first. So I went to him and said: 'Mr Moronelli, Which of these other boys had better go?' 'Oh !' he said - 'has one of them to go, Mr. Jackson? Timminsa - he's a wife and family; and Smith - he's
only a boy. Next day I had his resignation. All he'd say was: 'I shall get a place all right ! ' He never did. I heard by accident he
was on the rocks; that's how I make him that allowance.
"Cats !
Why not? I'll take his old cats on; don't you let him worry about that. I'll
see to his bird, too. If I can't give 'em a better time than ever they have
here, it'll be funny I" And, looking
round the little empty room, he again uttered that profound chuckle:
"Why, he was with us at the Harmony thirty years - that's time, you know; I
made my fortune in it."
Next day at six o'clock I knew that he was gone. He lay, covered with a sheet, in the darkened room. His
face, as white now almost as his silvery head, had in the sunlight a radiance
like that of a small, bright angel gone
to sleep. No growth of hair, such as comes on most dead faces, showed on
those frail cheeks that were now smooth and lineless as porcelain. And on the sheet.
above his chest the bullfinch sat,
looking into his face.
A wire
was sent to Mr. Jackson, and on the day of the funeral I went down to 'UItima Thule,'
Wimbledon, to see if he had earned out his promise. He had. In the grounds,
past the vinery, an outhouse had been cleaned and sanded, with cushions placed
at intervals against the wall, and a
little trough of milk. Nothing could have been more suitable or luxurious.
"How's
that?" he said. "I've done it thoroughly." "The only thing," he said, "is the cats.
First night they seemed all right; and the second, there were three of 'em
left. But to-day the gardener tells me there's not the ghost of one anywhere.
It's not for want of feeding. They've had tripe, and liver, and milk-as much as
ever they liked. I must
say it's a bit of a disappointment to me."
Mr.
Jackson led me back to
the house. A gilt bird-cage was
hanging there, replete with every luxury
the heart of bird could want. "Is
that for the bullfinch?" I asked him. "Oh!"
he said; "didn't you know? The little beggar wouldn't let himself be
caught, and the second morning, when they went up, there he lay on the old
chap's body, dead. I thought it was very touchin'. I thought 'Ultima
Thule' would have done him well ! "
''Do you mind telling me why you called
your house ‘Ultima Thule' ?" "First-rate. The whole place is the
last word in comfort. A man must have a warm corner to end his
days in. ‘Ultima Thule,' as you say." And with that word in my ears, and in my
eyes a vision of the little old fellow in his 'Ultima Thule,' I travelled back to town.
 |
| A vision of our little old friend with his constant companion |
Speak gently to the little child!
Speak gently to the aged one,
Speak gently to the erring -- know,
