Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1891-12-18
Old BLACKSMITH SHOPS,
Once alFsmilar Figure ut the Country
hosdside, Now Passed Into Decay.

Roadside, Now Passed Into Decay.
Ono thing you must have noticed
arriving through any OF the Old states
Is the blacksmith shop at the corners,
Says the Chicago Herald. Ttese days
there is sad appearance OF decay
and dilapidation about the OILS struc-
lure; but the ghosts OF old wagons
still haunt the crumbling walls.
There are tires that have stood In the
rain and the shine till comfortable
arc is buried in rust. There are hubs
that have sunk half out OF sight in
the gathering litter Of years. There
ire wheels and holsters, and now and
hen the runner of a sleigh. But time
aas covered them all with its mantle,
and they are buried in the verdure OF
torgetfulness. Inside the anvil alone
Itands as it used to stand. The block
hat supports it Is rotting and crumb-
ling, and the staples that fasten its
corners are shaky and loose. But the
great pointed iron itself has offered
Its weight against the tide OF removal
and it stands there unchanged while
The seasons run. The charcoal bin
disappeared winters ago. when the
boys wanted kindling. The forge fell
down when bricks were wanted The
ragged bellows have held their breath
and lain in corner till chips and wal
nut shells, dried leaves and feathers
have hid them from sight, and the
fires they fed are no more q memory.
The work bench that stood at the end
Of the shop. under the window that
slid endwise to open in the summer
and was chinked with a file when the
winter winds blew-that bench has
vanished little by little till the wise
itself is all that is left
There used to be bits OF iron about
the floor and cluttering heap of hooi
shavingS with fragments of wood and
occasional coal. There used to be a
stack of disabled gigs in corner.
with ends OF harness and cluster oil
chains. There used to be tub that
was lined with rust deposit from
chilling iron, and space on the wall
marked off for hammers and tools.
The tub fell TO pieces ages ago and
followed the charcoal bin into an
early morning FIRE. The odds and
ends of vehicles have gone their sew.
eral ways, some to the playhouses of
girls, some to furnish hand sleds for
the boys, but mostly they have simply
passed away from earth and no one
knows where they vanished.
There used to be strong men here
who worked the farm in pleasant
weather and turned an honest dollar
in the shop when the days were bad.
They were the sires who could fashion
whatever the neighborhood needed.
They had a shoemaker's bench in the
house and shod their children as COM
fortaDly as they did their neighbors'
horses. They kept a chest of saws
and chisels and made the milk troughs
and the woodwork for the plows.
They knew a little OF the rougher
chemistry and had q cupboard full OF
bottles at the house. All the common
complaints 'of man and beast" they
treated with hand heroic, never pre-.
scribing till assured that nature needed
assistance.
But times have changed from the
early days. The blacksmith shop at
the roadside has fallen into decay, and
the spirit that filed it has gone with
the days when each man stood alone
and asked no favors. 1t is part of the
past that can never come back any
more. 1t is part OF the age which
ended when our fathers vanished