The Portland daily press., 1897-07-31
JOHN HAYS LITTLE BREEcHEs."
Where the Colonel Found the Theme of
His Piece and vulgarized 1t,
(From the Land of Sun shine.)

But for an Iowan now gracefully grow
ing gray in Los Angeles there would have
been no "Little Brooches Hays
masterpiece rests upon true story.
Epraim II. Winans is now we'll known
Angeleno. About the year 1868 he was
an itinerant preacher in the middle West
and in New Virginia, Ia, witnessed the
dramatic incident which was destined to
be the motif of one of the best dialect
ballads in American literature.
Several years later Mr.. Winans was in
Warsaw, ILL.,, the home of Hays father.
He dined at the Hay house, and after
ward the family (incluing john acorn
panied him to the Presbyterian church,
where he preached on "Divine provi-
dence; its possibilities under natural
laws" His exegesis was, briefly, that
providence may work in answer to prayer
or Of its own tender mercy, without
miracle, but wholly in accord with
rational laws-chiefy through the spirit.
And among other illustrations he told the
story which has since with some changes
under poetic license) become the endur-
ing Little Brooches" In visit this
spring to Warsaw, Mr.. Winans secured
the letter in which Hay acknowledged
the SO URGE of his inspiration
The episode which inspired Hay was as
follows: A dark rainy night in April,
1868 Tor thereabouts). a district minis
terial association was in session in New
V irginia, Ia. Rev. Henry Heacock (now
located somewhere in northern California;
h ad just stepped to the stand and was
giving out the hymn:
Forever with the Lord!
Amen! So let it be
when man named Proudfoot burst into
the church, crying: ga horse! For
Gods sake, a horseI'
He had driven his wagon up to the
church steps and handed out his wife
and parents, but just as he reached to
take his little four years old boy from the
back of the wagon the horses stampeded
and were gone in the darkness.
The meeting was broken up, and the
congregation (among them Mr.. Winans)
started to follow the runaways. The
night was inIenstrahly black; the rain
tracking impossible. The searchers
swept concentrio circles in tho direction
in which the horses were headed, and in
that fenceless prairie, through mire and
gloom, they foundered on. At last, pos
sibly half mile from town, they came
upon the runaway. One horse was down
in the head Of gully, the other upon the
them. But the child was not there.
Round they searched for the presume
bly, trampled lad, but no trace was to be
found. Their improvised torches were
burning out. A Mr.. Reed remembered
an unused cabin half mile across the
fields, and led party thither to find dry
material for new torches. A flock Of
about 90 sheep had taken refuge in the
cabin from the storm, and their bleating
served to guide the searchers. But when
they at last found the place they coul,. not
omen the door. A man was boosted up,
crawled into the gable and brought out
the torchwood. When he crawled out he
said: "I thought heard voice in
there" No one. believed IT; 1t must have
he insisted. At last they forced the
reluctant door, and 10, in the middle of
the flock, sitting on a box. was the lost
child. He did not in real life say
want chaw of terbacker
And that's what's the matter OF me.
He simply said: "Here I am, papa, >"
quite unabashed by his experience.
How had he come there in the night
across the uncompassed fields, SO far
from the spilled wagonp God kows. Per-
haps he heard the voice of the sheep in
the storm, and followed it And;how did
he pass the door which excited men could
barely forcep For that Mr.. Winans says:
" suppose the door may have been open
when he came, and that the sheep crowd
ing back from where he sat closed 1t,
and that the rain swelled it so that it was
difficult to open. At any rate / look
upon it as providence by natural means.
We came forth with the child from the
cabin, singing the old long-meter doxol.
and his % praSns AND his
heard us, and knew that all was we'll
And that is the true story that John Hsy
and his father heard in my sermon IN
warsaw the story which gave him Tilt
tie Brooches" He has turned the rain i to
snow and the ministerial association To
a ING of molasses, and taken some minor
Iicanse with the story but it is the STORY story
of Proudfoot's little boy in Iowa in 1858.