Straightening Furrows

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · Jun 14, 1883

Straightening Furrows.

"WELL, I never saw anything like that Capt. Crofts round that old lady in all my life. He's dancing attendance from morning till night, and sakes alive! if he isn't tying on her sunbonnet for her. Well I never! Wonder what 'twould seem like to have my Billy grow up to be as attentive as that!" And the voice half scornful at first, took on a longing yearning expression, suggestive of tearful eyes, at the mention of "my Billy."

The speaker, Mrs. Bowles, lived in Seaport, usually spoken of as a fishing village, owing to the fact that many fishermen had lived there in years gone by; but the town was an old one, and, possessing great natural attractions, and being a suburban town, many fine residences now graced its winding avenues.

About two years before, a weather-beaten, sun-burned man, unmistakably a sailor, had bought a tasteful little cottage near the beach. This he had fitted up, beautified and embellished, until Mrs. Harris declared it to be a "perfect pink of a place."

Over this pretty house, Cap'n Sam, as the boys had learned to call the genial man, had installed his white-haired mother as mistress and chief, and a more attentive, loving son, it would appear had never lived.

In a small barn at the rear of the cottage was kept a fine, steady horse, and a low basket carriage, and every fair day the captain and his mother "went abroad," as Mrs. Bowles expressed it, on long, pleasant drives.

As we have hinted, Cap'n Sam was a great favorite among the boys of the place. Who else would harness up the sturdy horse into a big wagon, and give them such grand drives upon occasion? Then the great hickory and chestnut trees at the foot of his lot were free for the boys to visit as often as they liked, only they must never damage in any way the fine old branches; but when it came to spinning a yarn, ah, then! who so beguiling, nay, so perfectly bewitching as the sea-bronzed man?

It had long ago become a subject for harmless bantering among the boys and rather relished than otherwise by the captain, that he was gallant and unceasingly attentive to his "sweetheart," "my fair old sweetheart," he had once in their hearing called his mother, and they of course, lively little wretches that they were, would never forget it.

But one day, the boys, quite a little crowd of them, found Cap'n Sam at the rocks at the beach. There were breakers that afternoon, and particularly at such times it was a favorite diversion with the seafaring man to sit high on the rocky beach and watch his "second love," the sounding sea.

It was at times like these the boys delighted in finding their old friend, and coaxing him for one of their "heart's delights," which he well knew meant a story of tempestuous seas or foreign lands.

But on this particular afternoon the captain was brooding somberly, a habit he often had when by himself, and this time he couldn't throw off the mood, even at the approach of the merry boys.

In vain the better reared of them bantered, declaring "he'd had a jilting, but never mind, they expected to be jilted themselves in time to come;" while the less mannerly Billy Bowles guessed "there'd been a Caudle lecture at home."

At length, partly emerged from his brown study, the captain said soberly:—

"Boys, do you know what I've been trying to do every day for the last two years?"

Oh, why, for certain they knew all about it they—the merry youngsters of the town.

"Been a-courtin' chiefly," Jimmy Hollis observed, while Freddie Hollis remarked, "he'd worn himself all out a-pettin' his sweetheart."

That last opinion evidently struck the tender spot, and the boys found out that for once Cap'n Sam was in no mood for jokes or banter, and, being very quick to see which way the wind blew, the kind sailor a few minutes later addressed to a row of very serious young faces what one boy afterwards termed "a perfec' brick of a sermon."

"Boys," he said, "I've been trying every day of my life for the last two years to straighten out furrows—and I can't do it!"

One boy turned his head in surprise towards the captain's neatly-kept place.

"Oh, I don't mean that kind, lad. I don't mean land furrows," continued the captain, so soberly that the attention of the boys became breathless as he went on:—

"When I was a lad, about the age of you boys, I was what they called a 'hard case,' not exactly bad or vicious but wayward and wild. Well, my dear old mother used to coax, pray, and punish—my father was dead, making it all the harder for her, but she never got impatient. How in the world she bore with all my stubborn, vexing ways so patiently will always be to me one of the mysteries in life. I knew it was troubling her, knew it was changing her pretty face, making it look anxious and old. After a while, tiring of all restraint, I ran away—went off to sea; and a rough time I had of it at first. Still I liked the water, and liked journeying around from place to place. Then I settled down to business in a foreign land, and soon became prosperous, and now began sending her something beside empty letters. And such beautiful letters as she always wrote me during those years of cruel absence. At length I noticed how longing they grew; longing for the presence of the son who used to try her so; and it awoke a corresponding longing in my own heart to go back to the dear waiting soul.

"So, when I could stand it no longer, I came back; and such a welcome, and such a surprise! My mother is not a very old lady, boys, but the first thing I noticed was the whiteness of her hair, and the deep furrows on her brow; and I knew I had helped blanch that hair to its snowy whiteness, and had drawn those lines in that smooth forehead. And those are the furrows I've been trying to straighten out.

"But last night while mother was sleeping in her chair, I sat thinking it all over, and looked to see what progress I had made.

"Her face was very peaceful, and the expression contented as possible, but the furrows were still there! I hadn't straightened them out—and—I—never—shall! never!

"When they lay my mother—my fair old sweetheart—in her casket, there will be furrows in her brow; and I think it a wholesome lesson to teach you, that the neglect you offer your parents' counsels now, and the trouble you cause them, will abide, my lads, it will abide!"

"But," broke in Freddie Hollis with great troubled eyes, "I should think if you're so kind and good now, it needn't matter so much!"

"Ah, Freddie, my boy," said the quavery voice of the strong man, "you cannot undo the past. You may do much to atone for it, do much to make the rough path smooth, but you never can straighten out the old furrows my laddies; remember that.

"Guess I'll go and chop some wood mother spoke of, I'd 'most forgotten," said lively Jimmy Hollis, in a strangely quiet tone for him.

"Yes, and I've got some errands to do!" suddenly remembered Billy Bowles.

"Touched and taken!" said the kindly captain to himself, as the boys tramped off keeping step in a thoughtful, soldier-like way.

And Mrs. Bowles declared a fortnight afterward, that Billy was "really getting to be a comfort instead of a pest; guessed he was copying the captain, trying to be good to his ma; Lord bless the dear good man!"

Then Mrs. Hollis, meeting the captain about this time, remarked that Jimmy always meant to be a good boy, but he was actually being one now-a-days. "Guess your stories they like so much have morals to them now and then," added the gratified mother with a smile.

As Mrs. Hollis passed on, Captain Sam with folded arms and head bent down said softly to himself:—

"Well, I shall be thankful enough if word of mine will help the dear boys to keep the furrows away from their mothers' brow; for once there, it is a difficult task straightening out the furrows!"—Illustrated Christian Weekly.