Woodsmen of the West by Martin Allerdale Grainger

Author:Martin Allerdale Grainger [Grainger, M. Allerdale]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7710-3584-5
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 1996-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

THE SPIRIT OF THE THING

That Carter and Allen outfit pleased my soul. All my days I have been looking for the strenuous, hoping to find and to work for men who should be really intense in their efforts to do things. Giblin used to say in his argument-annihilating way that the people I dreamed of did not exist. But they do. I found several of them in the northern logging country. There was Carter, now; Carter working his uttermost, plugging sternly at his work, day in day out; developing the energy of two active men. Yet his heroic soul would burst with impatience that he could do no more. I amused myself one day composing Carter’s prayer, or rather exhortation to the powers. I will suppress the text. But it was all about the distressing shortness of daylight, the interruption caused to work (even to Carter’s work) by darkness, the waste of time at meals and sleep, and the appalling listlessness of hired men. The exhortation ended with Carter’s war-cry: “Go to it, then! Do something!!”

I know now that my judgment of a certain Pharaoh was too hasty. The man who wanted bricks made without straw was a great man – a great hustler. He was of kin to Carter. He wanted efficiency; he wanted men not to depend on others, helplessly. He wanted to instil his own great spirit into them, so that they would say of their own accord: “We possess no means of doing this job; never mind, we can do it all the same.” And he would make the money….

There was Bill Allen, too, with his – “I tell you a man has got to hustle to make money logging.” His motto for the steamboat was, “Get wood and water by day; run by night; keep-agoing-all-the-time;” a sort of sing-song. You would have failed to give him credit for such spirit had you judged him by appearances, for he was not rude and volcanic, and obviously a man of action, as Carter was. Bill’s manner was subdued and absent-minded, his movements quiet. Nothing about him kindled your imagination. He seemed effaced in character. His face was pretty, framed in fair curly hair. When clean it had a weather-beaten air that had been girlish once; when smudged and engine-dirty it made you think, in ignorance, of a work-weary Willie. In those rare hours when nothing needed his attention you might see Bill poring over book or magazine, lost to the world, his every sense absorbed. The humour of a Sunday paper, Ouida, “The Duchess,” “The Master Christian,” Science Jottings, the Nineteenth Century would carry Bill, all equally, into some weird fairyland. “The Wrecker” held him spell-bound too. Never, you would feel inclined to say, watching him, lived a man less practical, less of a worker. And Carter used to burn his books on the quiet. But Bill would “keep-agoing-all-the-time.” In a gentle, persistent way he would work straight on, day and night, when needful; steadily on until sleep would drop him.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.