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Show IIT lBWWfTT WWW W WWW WWVWWWVWVWWWWWWVWVWWWWVWWWWWVWWWVB wwwwwwwww www I THE BORROWED ?P (CopjrilM, 1012, by the Nw Toil. 1 Btfj -r HERB iB a laud of pure delight ? v I "Where saints immortal reigp; ' I Infinite day excludes the night Kg K And plcnsures banish pain. jgif It was the voice of a man dead six ft( years that intoned the old hymn he hod tk loved to sing in life a thin, wRvering fjfo voice that took a sharp upward turn at ) the end of each line. tf There everlasting spring abides And never-withering flowers. jjT Deathk like a narrow soa, divides This heavenly land from ours. J?J IL was very quiet in the room where 5J ' the gray haired listeners sat. Not a man W of them was under the age of thtvMCoi jji years and ten. Most of them had known rf "the hymn since they were boys. Here 15 it was comiug back to them in the ripe-jSl ripe-jSl ne88 of their years. The KiDge,r seemed ,te vory near, but they could not sec him, cx-)ji cx-)ji ( cept as this strangely intimate chamber if ' music helped to bring them menial pict- MA , The roice was that of thoir departed && comrade, E.' W. Hoard, and they had jjgji ' been with him many evenings when the Xfrl ' Borrowed Time Club met to talk over tho JJ old days. He was ninety-three when he ? died, 8ir years ago. He left to his cjub yT mates a tender memory and his voice, . the latter preserved on tho record of a 5? '. phonograph. jjj Another voice was waTed to the living tLjfi comrades, nnd It too ang an old fash- flP; ioned hymn. "Father" B. FHoubius, ' founder of the Horrowed TimeClub, hui wjfi been in his grave two year or more. A Mil little, hacking cough preceded kthe sing- I f J nroM Co, All rl;bls srTCd 1 ing from the funnel of the phonograph, and then thlat There Is a fountain filled with blood Dpawn from Imma unci's vein; And tinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains. "I've heard him sing it many a time." whibpcreil a member of the dub. "It was his favorite hymn, and he'd close his eyes, rock gently in that big chair over there and twifct the wrinkles of his face into a smile. He'd sing it in the little harness e-bop as ' he worked. That's where we rganizd the club, and wlicn-eer wlicn-eer I catch the bmell of harness leather I think of that hop and of 'Father' Kob-blns Kob-blns and the quaint way he sang to him-self." him-self." Back of the machiuc a the voice of the dead came out of it .stood Philander Barclay, historiun o'f the club, who had hit upon the phonograph as the means of preserving something more tangible than memories. Mr. Barclay was master of ceremonies in this odd gathering of septuagenarians nnd octogenarians. Tbe party took place In the chamber of Scovillc Institute, inj Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago. It was there the Borrowed Time Club came into existence, ten years ago. Xo man may belong to it who has not reached or passed the :tge of seventy ycara. In 1W- a little group of men met in the barnoss fjhop of "Father" ltobbin. There were many men of advanced -years living iu Oak ParlcC They f6lt- the mt;d of a rendezvous where theyniight come to tell of the day of the "deep snow" and Jifter. There--wcro "twenty-five f ' XJMECLUB HEARKENS TO DEAD VOICES ;. KJ - Members of the Borrowed Time Club Listening to Voice of Comrade Dead Six Years. .charter members. The club began it,s I career with promise, aud things wuuL well for two oars, but death ravaged the membership roll, and for a while there was little to do beyond paying the lu6t tribute to departed brothers. To-day only soven or eight of the original members ure alive. The club suspended ils activities, ac-tivities, but new members were drawn into it, and it has taken ud what appears lo be a long lease of existence. 'Mccflugs arc held each week and sometimes there Is an extra attraction. One of these was 1 1 , , I the phonograph feature, brmcing back the fcinging, tbe chuckling and tho good naturcd hunter of "Father Bobbins and Air. Hoard. ( jlr, .Hoard sang and talked for the phonograph record on Spptember C, lyOo. A few months later he died. t Ho hud told something of his. boyhood, of the simple W, of bis coming to Oak Parle when j Chicago was much smaller than it iss to- 1 day. There was short pause and the I voic- poured out its simple apostrophe to "the land of pure delight.'! The living totnr.idps leaned forward, hands to their ears, that they might not miss a familiar word or lose an inflection I Something like a sdgh swept over the 100m at ;Uu finish of the first stanza. The second brought tears to a few eyes For the third every "comrade, ome uf them none loo strong, rose to hh feet and joined his own voice with that of .Mr. Hoard. ' Bright .fields, beyond the swelling flood I gland I'dregst'd in living green; ' So to-thP-Jows fair Canaan stood, I WhileJordan rolj'ud between. - - - "I could almost believe," said one of the singers, "that he was standing r'pu' in front of hip just the way he used to stand when he was alive one hand iu his upper vct pocket and the other hold-ling hold-ling his cane. When I hear his voice it lis hard to understand that he has been I gone six years. He always did what he could to make this a land of pure delight. If ho Is where he can look down on ur to-night, and hear he will be glad, 1 know." Again the phonograph started. This time Mr. Barclay provided something to relieve the ti'nse fooling. The laugh of .Mr. Hoard greeted that of "Father" Bobbins. Bob-bins. "Why, hello, Bobbie!" came the words. "Wc weren't looking for you to-night.' "Ah, you wa'n't, eh? Well, you never can loll who's going to happen Iong when you ain't looking." There was a la,ugh in concert down in (ho machiuc. The listeners took it up uncertainly, un-certainly, and for rhc first time In half an hour their faces lighted up with smiles and significant nods were exchanged. "It's just the way they used to salute each other," whispered a man of seventy-five. seventy-five. "It didn't make any difference whether they came to the hall together or hadn't seen eucll other for days. It was :i iort of mock ceremonial they went (hrough and then they'd laugh juet as you heard them now. They were only gray , hnired boys nftpr all." "Well, well, welli How you're getting on," said the voice of Bobbin "Mighty nigh grown up. nip'! i.- Congratula- 1 tlons .mrimaiirT-oturnS of the day. Let 1 dtp see, it's the ninety-third birthday, ain't "j jH "It was his ninety -third and it wa his B Inst," explained one of the party. "He JH died a few months after that." H "It's been a long time since wp. mot," jH continued the voice of "Father" Koli- H bins, and there was another familiar H chuckle "Yes, a long lime, Bobbie. You and I . y are not so peart as we used to be, but I Vll guess our hearts are young enough." i ' "Bobbie" recited again the xtory he had jH told .so many timos; told of the years be- , fore lie had met Mr. Hoard ami the yexrs I after. It was 11 beautiful story of fripud- ship, a simple tribute to a man he loved. "'I He went back to the lime when much of H the present Xew York wa a wilderness, H recounted what he remembered of the b 5t H visit of Lafayette to this country, of tho ( j H exciting period of "Tippeciuoo and Tyler, 1 H too"; of the first locomotivo he eer saw, H of his going West and of the growth of A H It is proposed that the Borrowed Time 1 H Club shall take the initiative in Oak Park 1 H toward the building of a club houe, wherq -4 jH men who havp retired from active life I jH may get together from day to day. "Mr. H Barclay is planning to take phonograph j IH records of all the members who will con- ' jH sent to bequeath their speaking voices JH and their laughter to the archives of the IH L. D. Cogswell, soveiity-niuu years old, u jH Lo president of the Borrowed Time Club. '. B Ho announces that he soon will resign , H ihc honor, becausp he expects "to go West ) H to grow up country." ,jj H I ( " M pt -j j - """""iH |
