Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1904-12-31
THE OLD COUNTRY STORE.


the old-fashioned country and village
store. Most of us under forty-hve can
recall the rambling wooden shack at
the four corners Catering" across from
the blacksmith shop where were piled
In conglomerate disorder everything
from a paper OF pins to lumber wag-
ON was offered for sale. 1t was pre-
sided over by an elderly man, lank OF
limb and sparse Of whisker, why was
1t that country storekeepers rarely grew
fat in tn. old d,.ys and his wife usually
plump, gossipy and generous to evil
dren with the striped sticks OF candy.
The postoff1ce boxes numbered from to
125 stood on the counter In corner
near the door and adjacent to the front
window. A pile of overalls lay con-
tiguous. Three sugar barrels stood In
the aisle. white or A in one, brown
or B in another and dark In the
third. Aristocrats only used A sugar
Whole Goldfish hung like half soles on
nails along thu. wall. A sack of green
coffee sat open on the floor not too far
from the cuspidor extemporized from
nm emptied tobacco butt filled with
ashes or sawdllst and bearing evidences
Of lively trade in plug" The single
show case held motley collection OF
cheap jewelry. in which black enam-
eled wooden cuff buttons were con-
spicuous, sewing needles, barlow
knives and odds and ends mixed and
scattered without order or arrange
ment. The spool cotton case sat on
the counter near the common stove.
Flour was piled In one corner OF the
rear end. The kerosene barrel sat one
side the back door and the molasses
barrels with measures beneath their
spigots on the other side. Different
sizes Of rope stuck up thru the floor
from the basement each with Its loose
ly tied knot to prevent the end slip
ming thru. There were sides of cured
meat and strips of bacon on the walls,
sealicoes on the shelves on the east
side and sheetings labeled "Amoskeag
on the counter beneath. All this and
more, paper collars, boxes of boots,
straw hats and sheepslin mittens all
In one mixed melange of dust and dis
order.
It was when the big lamp hung by
hail from the ceiling had been lighted
and the sides of the big cannon stove
set In a brick encircled square OF SAND
glowed red and cheering on winter
evening that the country store came
out strong. Then there gathered about
it the intelligence and wisdom, the
idiocy and deviltry Of the community.
They came tramping In and asked Tor
the mail, feeling that the postmaster
was dereliet of his official duties when
he failed to sort over the half dozen
we'll tumblcd envelopes and took places
in the widening circle Of chairs
and benches or perched upon the coun-
tiers. 1t was on these occasions that
the fate Of the country was decided,
township candidates made and town
shin political feuds renewed and ar
gued always with earnestness and not
seldom with profanity and epithet. 1t
was here that the young man who had
been "away to school, aired his ac-
ouirements and sprung his new neck
ties to the envy Of the young and the
disgust, sometimes expressed in vigor-
Gus language, of, the old. The travelling
man with his repertoire Of stories and
inclination of liberality was hero
while he stayed and filled the soul of
every boy in cowhides and overalls with
the ambition to wear shiny shoes, sell
groceries and live in the city. There
were arguments worthy of the senate
about the old stove between older men
who were true wells of wisdom and
sincere patriots, and there were lessons
in good morals and Kindness and hui
man helofulness taught in the old
country store never to be forgotten by
those who listened and learned.
The country store is gone with the
candle Clip, the stage coach and the
buffalo. People have grown away from
1T. 1t i, to the community what the
circuit rider was to the churches, a
force and a comfort while 1t lasted. In
the new order of things 1t has no place
hut those who knew it best will re-
member always and regret the broken
circle about the stove in the country
store.
PROFESSIONAL BEGGARS.
The January issue Of Everybody's
Magazine contains an article written
by a New York journalist, who spent
six weeks disguised as beggar, liv-