Decorah public opinion. (Decorah, Winneshiek County [Iowa]) 1895-1928, 1895-11-22

~ZVSA MS characteristic
e e@1 drawings. Mrs.
Dodd thus de-
scribes one attrac-
tive scene: Presently voice
sounded from below the deck
ratings. Mills was calling up
ward from the seat of the jolly boat.
which he was holding alongside. I'm
goin' for milk and eggs, ma'am, to the
hall. Perhaps it 'u'd be your pleasure
TO take the trip up the dixie" A mo-
ment later, and we were gliding across
the sunlit river. What could be better,
after a morning in stuffy cabin, than
trip in an open boat, and descent
upon an English farm house? One or
Two skilful strokes of Mills oars sent
us skimming from the brilliantly
lighted river surface to the quiet of
placid creek; it was like turning from
busy highroad into a lane. The
green waterway seemed 10 have cap
tured the secret of perpetual twilight,
the day finding its way only through
the dense arch woven by the osiers and
willow boughs.
Presently stood forth through the
glistening tree trunks the fair facade of
stout, substantial mansion mantled in
ivy. 1t was Horning hall. Close to the
farm a girlish shape was seen leaning
over rustic stile. 1t was !.
traditional pose in which to
discover feminine rusticity; but
the living loneliness of the girls fair
face, and the soft, animal wonder in
her hazel eyes, made one oblivious of all
other genuineless models. us 1t milk or
cream was her strictly professional
question. It's milk. my lass, an eggs.
II you've got 'em fresh" Mills was
obviously entirely at his ease with the
rustic divinity. With a long, sailor-like
lurch forward he took his place beside
the girl, leaving us to follow. 'An' the
guv'nor. how is he? An your aunt, an
the stock?' we heard him say as the
two bent their steps toward the back of
the farmhouse. Mills took his way to
the barn while the girl seized our own
moment of indecision to grasp the milk
Jug and cross the courtyard. AS we
stood watching her, noting her young,
fresh, loneliness, why was it that sud-
denly other equally fair and comedy
shapes took their places beside her
that Maggie Tulliver, Hetty Sorrel, and
Tess of the D'Urbervilles should also be.
crossing that sun-hooded courtyard.
trailing before our eyes the memory OF
their tragic fate? The peace, the per-
et ~ %Ja
closure, the wet and dewy earth shin
ing through the tree boughs, the herds
of cattle and droves of sheep moving
under the fresh sunlight yonder, the
very drone of the bees in the bushes,
had brought wildly to mind those i'm
mortal types of women whose histories
seem forever interviewer with such
homely notes as the pouring of milk
into tin cans and the rhythmic thud of
the churn.
The farm maiden meanwhile had
filled our milk-jug, and Mills visit
within the barn had come to an abrupt
end. We were about to depart when, in
an inspired moment, we ceased gazing
at live picture and dwelling on TRACE
dies to confront both in one. AS we
turned toward the dixie stone building
rose up before us. 1t was as unexpected
a building to meet in a remote country
farm as might have been, say, the
Tower of London or the New York
Produce Exchange. The structure was
sturdily buttressed; it had beautiful
traceries In its regularly
spaced windows; and although its porch
and belfry had long since disappeared,
it was as Enthusiastically q chapel as il
rows of choristers were still intoning
within its vaulted roof, instead of the
impatient stamping of the beasts
stalled within its walls.
It's barn, ma'am. A chapel? Yes,
ma'am; it was st. Benets chapel. But
it's been barn since before ever was
born"
The chapel proved to have been Part
Of the old abbey, and we soon sailed
past what was left Of it. The marshes
to the left was an unbroken plain.
Out of the tufts of grass there rose up
the huge outlines of an un-
calmly draining-mill, from the lower.
southern side Of which blossomed a
lovely gothic portal. Clearer and clear
er became the shape and form of it: here
and there within the portal were bits
Of time-worn border traceries, lettering
,anopies, and a pile of shapeless CAPT
.als and rib-vaultings. The bank along
he river showed faint traces of broken
bits OF walls, of sunken towers and
now but mounds of turf.
For many turning and twisting in
md out among the river-marshes were
he outlines of the mill and the abbey
portal to mark for us the brevity OF
luman grandeur.