Irish Jesuit Province

The Good Old DoctorAuthor(s): Agnes Romilly WhiteSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 25, No. 292 (Oct., 1897), pp. 532-533Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20499189 .

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( 532

THE GOOD OLD DOCTOR.

A LITTLE more than two years ago, in a quiet corner up in the north of Ireland, one might see almost every day an

old, white-haired man with a beautiful face, driving along the country roads and lanes. He is dead now, and lies in that quiet churchyard where every day the people passing up and down see his grave and remember.

It is a sweet old-world spot, and once you are there the hum of

busy life grows faint and the sound of the river is in your ears

instead. There is a little cluster of cottages, and beside them the large rambling house that used to be his home, with its delightful garden full of old-fashioned sweet-smelling flowers. I remember the rockery was half-covered with splendid blue harebells that looked like a bit of cool evening sky; and there were blue and

white clusters of clematis clinging together all through the summertime, while further down the red and yellow roses had elimbed up and met and broke into exquisite blossom over the trellised arch.

When one left the roses and lilies behind, and followed the sloping path, one came on the wide lawn rimmed round with shady trees. Down below there stretched the broad meadow, and beyond it the river whose keen music echoed up among the garden paths.

This was his home; and every morning the villagers could see the pony-chaise being led round to the door by the old coachman

who had served his master for almost a lifetime. And then the master would come out and drive away to someone who required his medical skill, or who needed the wisdom of his wise and tender heart. At some time or other that kindly and noble vision had brought healing and comfort to every heart in the country-side.

My own childish recollections of him are all clustered in little acts of kindness. His heart was very ready to respond to a child's touch, for he had still kept some of his own child-nature in that simplicity which seems to be the dower of great spirits.

I remember the summer afternoons we used to spend with him in the garden, wandering among the brilliant flower beds or sitting in the shade of his favourite chestnut, while he told us stories of the old coaching days and of highwaymen, and his own

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The Good Old Doctor. 533

hair-breadth escapes and adventures, which we believed in with a oredulity which must have amused him vastly. Or sometimes he would take us with him when he was going on his rounds, talking to us half-seriously, half-humourously, veiling some useful bit of knowledge or wise truth under a fanciful tale or allegory. It did not seem anything wonderful to us then. We did not think any further than that we loved him, but now in the fuller light of years it is something very noble and good to remember.

He had come near the end of a long life when I knew him,

and he gave one the impression of having passed by all that was wrong and unworthy, and of having gathered into his life only the warmth and sunniness and love. And it was this which gave to that splendidly handsome face the charm you never forgot, for there you read plainly of gentleness, and loving-kindness, and the over

whelming desire to help others of which his whole life spoke. The brightness of youth hung around him always; and, when he talked to you, you felt the spell of hiis kind, beautiful face and courtly charm of manner until he might have been the hero " noble and right knightly " of an old romance.

For more than thirty years he spent his life in going out and in among the poor and sad, healing their sickness and comforting their hearts.

I think the people who loved him best were the children, and the frail and aged to whom his visits were the brightest sunshine

of their day. In these poor little homes he was loved so dearly

for his kind ways and the sweetness of his simple heart. In his

brave gentlehood he helped all the lives that crossed his, whether high or low, and in his face the " sweet records " spoke of years

full of kindly ministry. His warm and beautiful life was lived out contentedly in the quaint peacefulness of country ways, and

among homely folk. He was a very noble gentleman. The news of his sudden death swept the country for miles

round into bitter grief; and round his grave the strong men

stood weeping like little children. He died in the old house among the people that he lived for, and in their hearts his memory is as

sweet and fragrant as the summer flowers or the scent of the new

mown hay when the men and women he loved are gathering in

the harvest. AGNES ROMILLY WHITE

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