Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1903-03-05

1
Il grave than old man Nelson's
fSWSl-S5 dead body. 1t seemed to me
GsEsssU that Graeme left part at least
of his old self there with his dead
friend and comrade in the quiet coun-
try churchyard. | waited long for the
old careless, reckless spirit to appear.
but he was never the same again. The
change was unmistakable, but hard to
define. He seemed to have resolved
his life into a definite purpose He
was hardly so comfortable a fellow to
be with; he made me feel even more
lazy and useless than was my wont,
but respected him more and liked
him none the less. AS a lion he was
not success. He would not roar.
This was disappointing to me and to
his friends and mine, who had been
waiting his return with eager expecta-
ton of tales of thrilling and blood
thirsty adventure.
His first days were spent in making
right, or as nearly right as he could,
the break that drove him to the west
His old firm-and have had more re-
spect for the humanity of lawyers ever
since-behaved really WELL They PROV
ed the restoration of their confidence
in his integrity snd ability by Offering
him place in the firm. which, how.
ever he would not accept Then, when
he felt clean, as he said, he posted off
home taking me with him. During
the railway journey of four hours he
hardly spoke, but when we had left
the town behind and had fairly got
upon the country road that led toward
the home ten miles away his speech
came to him in a great flow. His spir-
its ran over. He was like boy re-
turning from his first college term His
very face Wore the boys open, inno-
cent, earnest look that used to attract
men to him In his first college year.
His delight in the fields and woods, in
the sweet country air and the sunlight,
was without bound. How often had
we driven this road together in the
old days.
Every turn was familiar. The swamp
where the tamaracks stood straight and
slim out of their beds of moss; the
brule, as we used to call it, where the
pine stumps, huge and blackened, were
half hidden by the new growth of pop
lars and soft naples; the big hill,
where we used to get out and walk
when the roads We're bad; the orchards,
where the harvest apples We're best
and most accessible-all had their
memories.
1t was one of those perfect after
~, ~
Canadian summer before nature grows
weary with the heat. The white gravel
road was trimmed on either side with
turf of living green, close cropped by
the sheep that wandered in flocks along
Its whole length. Beyond the pictur-
esque snake fences stretched the fields
of springng grain, Of varying shades of
brown patch. marking a turnip field or
summer fallow, and far back We're the
woods of maple and beech and elm,
with here and there the tufted top Of
mighty pine. the lonely representative
of a vanished race, standing clear
above the humber trees.
AS we drove through the big swamp,
where the yawning, haunted gully
plunges down to it's gloomy depths,
Graeme reminded me of that night
when our horse saw something in that
same gully and refused to go past, and
l felt again, though it was broad day
light, something of the grewsomeness
that shivered down my back as 1 saw
in the moonlight the CLEAN Of white
thing not far through the pine trunks,
AS we came nearer home the houses
became familiar. Every house had it's
tale. We had eaten or slept in most
of them; we had sampled apples and
cherries and plums from their or
chards, openly as guests or secretly as
marauders, under cover of night-the
more delightful way, l fear. All, hap
Ply days, with these innocent crimes
and tleeting remorses, how bravely we
faced them, and how gayly we lived
them, and how yearningly we look
back at them now! The sun was just
dipping into the treetopS of the distant
woods behind as we came to the top
Of the last hill that overlooked the val
ley In which lay the village of River
dale. Wooded hills stood about it on
three sides, and where the hills faded
out there lay the millpond sleeping and
smiling in the sun. Through the vii
lage ran the white road, up past the
old frame church and on to the white
manse hiding among the trees. That
was Graeme's home and mine, too, for
had never known another worthy of
the name. We held up our team to
look down over the valley, with it's
rampant of wooded hills, its shining
pond and its nesting village. The
beauty, the peace, the warm, loving
LONELINESS Of the scene, came about
our hearts; but being men, we could
find no words.
Lets go!' cried Graeme, and down
the hill we tore and rocked and sway
ed, to the amazement Of the steady
team, whose education from the earli-
est years had impressed upon their
minds the criminality of attempting to
do anything but walk carefully down a
hill. at least for two-thirds of the way