River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1896-04-30

from those baby eyes there shone a
purpose firm and true, and he said /:
ST ather, | know we lose an awful
many things" 1t is needless to say
that we all went to hunt the chain
and that they got no whipping after
that brave little speech. So all
through their lives until the year
1876 they grew into our lives, neither
as Edgar nor Frank, but as the ''Nye
Boys" and so they will be while
time for us lasts.
"The valley at this time seems full
of memories of these boys. Some
so tender and sweet that they cause
the tears to fall, while others are so
funny that we laugh through misty
eyes as we recount them. The
The greatest sport of Edgar's boy
hood lay in mimicry. There were
none for miles around who possessed
the least peculiarly either in speech,
gait, or general characteristics who
escaped his droll mimicly. He was
regardless of relative or friend in his
harmless jests. My fathers house,
which was the centre of fun in the
valley, was running over with young
folks. We never expected to sleep
when Edgar came to ''stay all night"
Father would lie in bed alternately
laughing at our fun, and snoring.
Sometimes for fear of our being worn
out he would rap upon the stove
pipe, sign that We must go to bed
and to sleep at once. There was an
old Scotch Irishman who at times
lived with us, and who often had
crazy spells in which he would suffer
much and would groan and call
loudly for help, nearly always SEEM
ing to prefer my services or that of
my mother to any other. So just
about the time that Edgar thought
us well asleep he would groan loudly
as though in the greatest bodily dis
tress, and all through the chamber
would ring his terrible cries of pain.
Then he would call at the top of his
voice: ooh, Sary! Oh, Sary! Oh!I
what shall | do?" in exact imitation
of the old man, until we were all
wide awake. Then the familiar rap.
SO would pass the nights.
'His first nom de Plume was Petro-
leum V. Spikes, under which he
wrote much fine matter for the Good
Templars' Lodge of which he was a
member; also many witty articles
for our good old spelling schools.
SIN the year 1869 our hearts were
all touched and turned heavenward
by the death of one OF our most loved
companions. Soon after this both
of the boys united with the little
church in the valley and that church
has always held tender place in his
heart. The memory of that Sabbath
afternoon fingers sweetly-in our lives
like the harmony of some never to
be forgotten hymn. As they knelt
before the altar and the minister
uttered these solemn words: Edgar
Wilson, baptize thee; Frank Mel
len, l baptize thee" the long rays of
sunlight streamed across the church
and fell softly and fingered there
upon each bowed head, while the
dear old pastor reverently pro-
nounced the blessing.
GAS we in heart watched anxious
ly through his sickness, wept with
those that wept over the peaceful
resting form, or as we followed all
that was left on earth of one that we
had known in childhood to its.last
resting place, we felt the fullness of
Drumsheng's sympathetic remark
at the funeral of George Howe:
There's just ae heart in Drumtochty
and it's sair.'"
April IS, 1896.