Like one of the spruces that towered high above others on Rockhaven, like one of the granite cliffs bidding defiance to storm and wave, so did Jess Hutton tower above his fellow-men. Not from stature, though he stood full six feet, or that he was impressive in other ways—far from it. He was like a child among men in simplicity, in tenderness, in truth and kindly nature—a man among children in strict adherence to his conscience, to justice and right living. And all on Rockhaven knew it, and all had the same unvarying confidence in his good sense and justice, his truth and honor, conscience and kindness. What he predicted nearly always came true; what he promised he always fulfilled, and no one ever asked his aid in vain. Others quarrelled, made mistakes, repented of errors, lost time in fruitless ventures; but Jess—never. He was like a great ship moving majestically among boats, a lighthouse pointing to safe harbor, a walking conscience like a compass, a giant among pigmies in scope of mind, keenness of insight, and accurate reading of others' moods and impulses.

And so he towered above all on Rockhaven.

Beyond that he was a philosopher who saw a silver lining behind all clouds, laughed at all vanities, and made a jest of all follies. To him men were grown-up children who needed to be amused and directed; and women the custodians of life and morals, home, and happiness. They deserved the mantle of charity and patience, love, and tenderness.

He was not religious. He had never felt a so-called change of heart, and yet he was a walking example of the best that religion encourages, for he governed himself, set the pace of right living, and illustrated the golden rule.

He believed in that first and foremost, and in setting a good example as far as lay in his power, but not in any professions.

"Ye mustn't feel I ain't on yer side," he said once to Parson Bush, who had urged him to join the church, "for I am, only it's agin my natur ter 'low I've had a special dispensation o' the Lord's grace in my behalf. I'm a weak vessel, like all on us, an' my impulses need caulkin'. I do the best I kin, 'cordin' to my light, 'n' that's all any man kin. The Lord won't go back on us fer not gittin' dipped, an' if there's a heaven beyond, our only chance o' a seat is by startin' an annex right here on airth. Sayin' you've joined the Lord's army's well enough, but doin' what ye feel the Lord's tryin' to, is better.

"Ez Sally Harper used ter say in meetin', 'We're all on us poor critters, an' if we jine, there's no tellin' when we'll backslide.'"

It was perhaps the consciousness of inherent human weakness that kept Jess out of the fold.

"A man may do right 'n' keep on doin' right 'most all his life long," he said, "an' some day up pops a temptation, when he's least prepared for't, and over he goes like a sailboat 'thout ballast in a gale o' wind. An' then what becomes o' all yer 'lowin' the Lord's opened yer eyes 'n' gin ye extra grace? Ye only get laughed at by the scoffers 'n' yer influence gone fer good. Human nature's brittle stuff, an' them as does right 'thout any change o' heart, come purty near bein' leaders in the percession toward the Throne."

His philosophy, broad as infinite mercy and humble as a child's happiness, permeated all his thoughts and tinged all his speeches.

"No joy's quite so comfortin' as we cac'late," he would say, "an' no sorrer quite so worryin'. We go through life anticipatin' happy termorrers and glorious next days, and when we git to 'em, somehow they've sorter faded away, and it's to be the next day and the next as is ter be the bright uns. Then, we are all on us like boys, chasing jack o' lanterns over a swamp medder, an' if we 'low they're clus to an' jest ready to grab, the next we know we've stumbled inter a ditch.

"And then we borrer trouble, heaps on't, all through life. From the day we git scared at thought o' speakin' pieces at school, till the doctor shakes his head an' asks us if we've got our will made, we are dreadin' suthin'. If 'taint sickness or bein' robbed, it's worryin' 'bout our nabors havin' more'n we do. The feller courtin' worries for fear the gal won't say 'yes,' an' when she does he is likely to see the time he wishes she hadn't, an' worries 'cause he's got her. We worry ourselves old 'n' wrinkled 'n' gray, an' then, more'n all this world, worry 'bout the next. An' thar's whar the parson 'n' I allus split tacks. He says the Lord made the brimstone lake fer sinners, 'n' I say the Lord made conscience as a means o' torture, an' here or hereafter it's hot 'nuff."

And here it must be inserted that Jess was to a certain extent a thorn in the parson's side, from the fact that his influence and following were stronger than that worthy man's. It was what Jess believed and said that was quoted rather than the parson's assertions; and although Jess seldom failed to be one of his listeners, and contributed more than any five or ten others toward his scant salary, there were times when he was made to feel that if Jess occupied the pulpit the church would be packed. And so it would, humiliating as that fact was to him.

And here also may be related an incident in Rockhaven history which illustrates how slim a hold the parson and his preaching had upon those islanders. As it happened that year, mackerel were late in reaching the coast. The price was correspondingly high, and Rockhaven's band of fishermen eager to make the first haul. Most of them attended church, but now, while the suspense was on, when Sunday came, two or three watchers were stationed on convenient cliffs with orders to report to the church if a school was sighted.

This was kept up for three weeks, and then, one Sunday, just as the first morning hymn in long metre had been sung, and the parson, with closed eyes, had got well started in his prayer, down through the village street bounded one of those sentinels, yelling, "Mack'rel, mack'rel, millions on 'em!"

And in less than five minutes there wasn't a man, woman, or child left in the church except Jess Hutton and the parson. And when that good man had said "Amen," Jess arose and suggested they too follow the crowd.

"Ye might's well," said Jess, with a twinkle in his eye, "the model o' all Christianity sot the example, 'cordin' to Scriptur', an' ye might do good by follerin' it."

But the worthy leader of that flock who had thus deserted him failed to see the humor of the situation and sadly shook his head. He remained in the sanctuary and Jess joined the fishermen.

It was such a peculiar, sympathetic, and broad understanding of these fisher-folk's carnal as well as spiritual needs that made Jess the oracle and leader of the island.

"Thar wa'n't no need o' gettin' fussy over it," he said later to the good dominie, with a laugh, "religion's good 'nuff when mack'rel's fetchin only a dollar a kit; but when three's offered 'n' scace at that, prayers hain't got their usual grip. And ye oughtn't ter 'spect it, parson. The way to reach 'em's to be one with 'em and sorter feel thar needs, and make em feel they're yer own. If ye'd gone with 'em that day and helped 'em make a haul, an' then invited 'em to join ye in a prayer o' thankfulness, thar want one but 'ud a-kneeled down at yer bidding and said 'Amen.'"

And that was Jess Hutton and partially the secret of his supremacy on Rockhaven.

Another point—he had always believed and practised the sterling rule of "paying scot and lot as you go." While Jess forgot injuries, he always remembered favors. If an unwashed, uncombed, and even unnamed child brought him but a sea-shell, Jess never failed to reward the act. And so on, upward, to each and all he returned all favors, paid all debts, and rewarded all kindnesses. And how they trusted him! A fisher lad, saving up for a new suit of clothes or a boat of his own, would, before starting on a trip, leave his money with Jess for safe keeping. The owner of a smack or schooner, ready for another cruise, would ask Jess to take charge of the quintals and kits of fish just landed, sell them to best advantage, and hold the proceeds till he returned, or longer. Not only was Jess selling agent for most of them, but the safe in his store was a bank of deposit for them also. What he did not keep to supply their needs, they told him to get without bargaining, sure it would be what they wanted, and at right, or lowest price.

And this trust was mutual.

"If I ain't here, help yourselves," while not a sign over his door, was understood by all to be the rule; and every one in the island, from a child wanting a stick of candy to the skipper needing a dozen suits of oilers, followed it.

Jess had habits, and one was to devote all the time his dearly loved niece, Mona Hutton, claimed to her amusement; and when she asked that he accompany her flower or shell hunting of a summer afternoon, the store could run itself for all that he cared.

It may be surmised that children exposed to the temptation of candy, oranges, and nuts in his store, would pilfer, and some did; but that did not annoy him.

"Hookin' things allus carries its own whip," he would say, "an' if they wanter try it, let 'em. It's bound to be found out, one way or 'nother, and when I've shamed 'em once or twice, they'll larn it's cheaper to ask for 'em."

Children were seldom refused in his store, for he was like a boy baiting squirrels with nuts in his desire to lure children there.

They were his chief solace and companions by day, for he kept bachelor's hall over his store, and to have a crowd of them around was the company he best enjoyed.

And what a godsend and wellspring of delight Jess and his store were to all Rockhaven's progeny. In summer they came in barefooted bunches, even to the toddlers who could scarce lisp their own names. They played hide and seek behind his barrels and beneath his counter; they hid in empty boxes and under piles of old sails in his back room. They littered his piazza with crabs, starfish, long strips of kelpie and shells, they had gathered among the rocks and on the beach, and left the few poor toys and rag babies they possessed there. They ran riot over him and his store; and as a climax to the happy after-school hour, Jess would produce his old fiddle, and if there is any music that will reach a child's heart, it is that.

And while Jess played they leaped, danced, crowed, and shouted as insanely happy children will.

To him it was also supreme delight.

To them he was a perpetual Santa Claus, a wonder among men, a father bountiful, whose welcome never failed, whose smile was always cordial, and whose love seemed limitless. And they would obey a shake of his head even. And when the frolic had lasted long enough and he said, "Run home now," off they scampered. It is small wonder Jess Hutton was chief man of Rockhaven.

But Jess had a vein of satire as well as philosophy.

"It's human natur," he would say, "for all of us to think our own children's brighter'n our neighbor's, an' our own joys and sorrers o' more account, and 'specially our aches and pains, 'n' them we never get tired o' tellin' 'bout.

"There was the Widder Bunker, fer instance; she had a heap o' trouble and the only comfort she got was tellin' on't. She had rumatiz 'n' biles 'n' janders 'n' liver complaint, ever since she was left a widder, an' all she could talk 'bout was what ailed her an' how long it had lasted an' what the symptoms were an' what she was doin' fer 'em. She'd run on fer hours 'bout all her ailin's till folks 'ud go off 'n' leave her. She got so daft on this subject, finally, everybody'd run fer safety and hide when they saw her comin'. She used ter talk in meetin' onct in a while, 'n' arter a spell her aches got sorter mixed up with her religion, an' as nobody else 'ud listen to her 'bout 'em, the first we knowed, she 'gan tellin' the Lord how her asmer bothered her and how her rumatiz acted. She enjied it so much, an' the Lord seemed to listen so well, she kept at it over an hour, until the parson had to ask her to quit.

"It was sorter rough on the widder, an' as I told the parson arterward, it really wa'n't any wuss fer the Lord to hev to listen to her bodily aches and pains than the spiritual ones the rest allus told him 'bout; 'sides it gin a spice o' variety ter the meetin'.

"But he said her tellin' the Lord how she'd hump herself to get breath, and how the rumatiz had started in her big toe and skipped from one jint to 'tother, 'ud set the boys in the back seats to titterin' 'n' break up the meetin'.

"I allus felt sorry for the Widder Bunker, fer she had considerable hair on her upper lip an' a hair mole on her chin, 'sides bein' poorer'n a church mouse, an' sich unfortunate critters hez to take back seats at the Lord's table."