Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1879-09-04

of gentle summers have winged their |
pleasant fight, ! shall be tempted 10
ask, "What's the matter With these
plums, anyway s? Why hasn't some
gallant fellow gathered them and
preserved them well with the sugar
of lis generous love ?" Sugar is
cheap, but-suppose you had to use
it by the barrel and even then fail to
make an impression on your plums
Fraget NIGHT, acarum ich traure.
In coming up out of the romantic
valley just mentioned, you see at the
right the fine farm buildings of Mr..
Jas. A. Davis. The place is a most
desirable one and contains about 24O
acres of the best farming land in all
that fertile region. Jim, they say, is
a "greenbacker" (whatever that may
be) and, / am told, a standing can
didate for Sheriff of Grant county.
Mistaken souls, who dream Of getting
Office that way! Vanity of vanities.
We are now on Blake's Prairie,
aud as far as the eye can reach, to
the east, to the south, to the west,
behold a panorama / know of
nothing to match it in the State, I'M
less it be the glorious tract of coun.
try lying between Hazel Green and
Georgetown, between Fairplay and
st. Rose.
we enter Patch Grove and find it
a quiet, orderly, respectable sort of
village. There is some trading at
the stores, and on the porches the
labor and currency reformers sit in
groups idly discussing the alleged
great question of the hour--the mon
ey question. If those fellows would
only cease their dismal racket and
go home to their farms, look after
their fences, haul out manure, attend
to their orchards, etc., etc. Be much
better for themselves and the coun-
try, too, wouldn't it?
saw Jared Warner at distance.
There was a solid Democratic look
about him which somehow made me
feel that he wouldn't spend much
time nor money to help along the
gaspiDg currency "cause" in this
campaign. j. w. is far too shrewd
and practical man 10 attempt to
cloy the hungry edge of political ap
petite
with bare Imagination of feast.
The doors and windows of friend
Luther Browns pleasant cottage
stood wide open to the refreshing
summer breezes, and tho venerable
critic was doubtless within preparing
another newspaper dose of some
kind for the political stomachs of his
much be-phys, oked fellow citizens.
Luther lams it to us we'll at times,
but somehow the stuff he gives isn't
satisfying. He is good one to
pull down things, but when it comes
to construction he is certainly a sad
failure. Sometimes I find fault with
my wife's cooking and tell her that
| can do better myself aud not half
try. Then she resigns at once, say
ing that culinary talent like mine
ought to be utilized before it spoils
on my hands. Whereupon | repent
me OF my folly and declare that
was only fooling, assuring her that
in my accomplished opinion her
cooking is good enough for a lord.
1t may be that friend Luther can run
this country better than any one else
can run it, and then again maybe he
can't. At any rate, l, for one, am in
, for giving the good old man chance.
, The road from Patch Grove to
, Bloomington runs through as lovely
stretch of farming land as one
could wish to see. There are many
good farm houses, painted white,
with green shutters showing through
the greener foliage around; the
J barns are large and gray, and remind
one of the poet Reade's
r gray barns LOOKING from the hazy hills
Der the dun waters widening in the vale.
J Orchards everywhere, and good
| ones; shade trees and shrubbery
and no end of lofty, gaily-painted
windmills. Add herds of grazing
kine and nibbling sheep, droves o.
J well conditioned horses, and pens
and pastures full of growing pork
: and you have the outlines of and ma
terials tor picture OF rural life a,
its best and under the most favorable
circumstances. But when you re-
| member that the trail of the green.
hacker is over it all, you feel that
Ingersoll was about right when he
said, speaking at the funeral of his
brother who died where manhood.
t morning almost touches noon and
while the shadows were still falling
t toward the west
Yet. after all. it may be best inst in the happi.
, est, snnnest hour of all the voyage, while cage
winds kissing every SAIL to dash against the un
; seen rock and In instant hear the pillows roar
sunken ship. for whether in mid sea, or among tn,
breakers of the farther shore a wreck must mark a.
last the end of each and H. and every life no matter
IL its every hour is rich with love and every mo
| ment jeweled with JOY, will at its close become
tragedy so sad and deep and dark as can be woyer
of the warp and wool OF mystery and death.
Now we are at Bloomington and d
drive down Canal Street reveals the
fact that the town is broad awake,
up, and doing business Something
astir everywhere. The streets are
, filled with teams, the sidewalks
thronged with people, the stores and
, , shops crowded with customers Not
loafer anywhere in sight. All OF
which is bad for the greenbackers.
Here we have dinner and here
change cars, so to speak. Mahoney
continues on to Lancaster alone and
| employ livery team to take me
on to the end of the first stage of my
little journey.
At Bloomington we found teach
ers' institute in session, and | had
the pleasure Of meeting some of the
grammatical professors at the hotel.
Guernsey was there. He and | sal
on bench in the shade, after dinner,
! and as We sat there talking about
| the political unpleasantness in Cali
t tornia, along came Charley Harper
} and took seat on the same bench.
at my left, Thus sandwiched be
tween two excellent gentlemen, Ell.
ther of whom is liable at any mo-
, ment to become a candidate for a
!, certain county office, felt little
: uneasy. / feared they might make
( demonstrations of undying affection