The Iola register., 1891-07-24

Subtraction. He was never sid, news
weary. II the house had fallen, be coulS
have sustained It anon his shoulder. II
the winter he expatiated on the comfort
OF his smithy. In the summer he threw
the door wide open and allowed the odol
season had arrived, I sat down beside
him in front of the door at the close oi
day. We were half way down hill; We
had view OF the whole stretch Of the
valley. This immense carpet of Guilt.
waited fields, which lost itself at the hori.
Zon amid the light lilac of the twilight,
delighted the blacksmith.
At times the blacksmith liked his joke.
He said that all these lands belonged to
him, that the smithy for 200 years and
| more had furnished the entire district
with plows. He took pride in this fact.
Without his help not single crop grew.
III the plain was green in May and yellow
in July, it owned that changing sheen to
him. He loved the harvests as IL they
had been his daughters, charmed by the
glowing sun, shaking his fist at the
bursting hail clouds. Frequently he
pointed out to me In the distance some
patch OF ground which looked smaller
than the back of his vest, and told me In
what year he had fashioned q plow for
that square of oats or rye. When work
in the fields was at its height. he some
times put aside his hammers and went to
the border of the roadway.
There, shading his eyes with his hand
he gaZed over the valley. He watched
the numerous family of his plows turn
the soil and trace their burrows in front
of him, to the left ana to tine right. The
valley overflowed with his piows. Al
the horses moved slowly along one
might have thought them regiments on
the march. The plowshares glistened in
the sunlight with silver reflections.
Then, beckoning, the blacksmith would
summon me, calling me to come and see
in what "holy toll" they were engaged.
All the resounding old metal which
ratified beneath my chamber put iron in
my blood, which was better for me than
doctors drugs. l had become used to
the clatter; / needed the music of the
hammers on the anvil to tell me how to
by the roaring OF the bellows, had re-
covered my senses. Toe, toc-toc, toe
1t was like the joyous balance wheel OF a
clock regulating my hours of toll. When
the work pressed, when the blacksmith
struck with a will, when / heard the
red hot iron crack beneath the blows OF
the mad hammers, had the strength OF
a giant in my wrists-I felt as IL / could
fiatten out the world with a stroke of my
BShs "hOh Nhc iOI 70 Wdc
all was silence in my brain. / went
down stairs and felt ashamed of my vocs-
tion on seeing all that metal conquered
and still smoking.
All! how superb the blacksmith looked
sometimes during the hot summer after
noonsl He was stripped to the waist,
with salient angles aSd stretched mus
cles like one of Michael Angeles tall
statues, drawn up for a mighty sdort.
By looking at him 1 found the modern
sculptursl line which our artists are toll
somely searching for amid the wrecks Of
ancient Greece. He seemed to me like a
gigantic hero of toll, the indefatigable
child of the present day who shapes in
cessantly upon the anvil the instrument
OF our analysis, who fashions in fire and
with iron the society of tomorrow. He
toyed with his hammer.
When a desire to laugh came on him
he grasped LA Demoiselle'' and struck
a tremendous blow. Then thunder roared
in the smithy, amid the ruddy flashes OF
the fire. At such times / imagined
heard the sighs of the toIling multitude.
There, in that smithy, smong the
plows, l cured myself forever of my at
tack of idleness and irresolution.
EMILE ZoLA.