The Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1???-1928, 1904-11-17
CHAPTER |.


but. so far as know, he is ever
the worst OF fathers. Even as grand
Gather he is too near, for one poet can
lay streak OF poverty over three gem
erations Doubt not know whereof |
speak. dear reader, for my mothers
father was poet--a French poet, roo,
whose lines had crossed the Atlantic
long before that summer OF ITO when
he came to Montreal. He died there.
leaving only debts and those who had
great need OF a better legacy my
mother and grandmother
AS to my father, he had none or
HAT fatal folly in him, lie was
llountaineer Of Vermont-a man OF
steely sinews that took we'll 10 the grip
Of sword He cut his way to fame
In the northern army when the British
came first 10 give us battle. and
bloody way II was. | have now faded
letter from Ethan Allen, grim old war
rior. in which he calls my father the
best swordsman that ever straddled a
horse' He was a "gallous chap" in
his youth, so said my grandmother.
with great love of good clothes and
gunpowder. He went to Montreal as
boy, to be educated; took lessons in
fencing, fought a duel, ran away from
school, and came home with little
learning and a wife Punished by dis
Inheritance, he took farm, and left
the pillow TO go into battle
wonder often that my mother could
pat up with the stress and hardship
of his life, for she had had gentle
breeding, OF which | knew little until
| was grown 10 manhood when came
10 know also what a woman will do
for the love of her heart. | remember
well those tales of knights and ladies
she used to tell me as we sat together
" an evening and also those adven-
lures of her own knight my good
father, in the war with the British
My love of arms and of just quarrel
began then.
After the war came hard times. My
father had not prospered handsomely,
when, near the end of the summer of
1903, he sold his farm and we all
started west. over rough trails and
roadways. There were seven of us,
bound for the valley of the st. Law
rence-my father and mother. my two
sisters. my grandmother, Dri, the
hired man, and myself then sturd
boy of ten. We had an ox-team and
cart that carried our provision, the
sacred feather beds of my mother, and
some few other things.
We drove with us the first flock of
sheep that ever went west There were
40 of them. and they filled our days
with trouble. But for our faithful dog
Rover, fear we should have lost |
heart and left them to the wild |
wolves. The cart had low cover OF |
canvas. and my mother and grand |
mother sat on the feather beds. and |
rode with small comfort even where |
The roads were level. My father let
me carry my little pet rooster in
basket that hung from the cart-axle |
when not in my keeping The rooster
had harder time than any of us.
fancy, for the days were hot and the
roads rough He was always painting.
with open mouth and thoughtful eye,
when lifted the cover. But every
lay he gave us an example of cheerful
ness not wholly without effect. He
rrowed triumphantly. betimes, in the
hot basket, even when he was being
tumbed about on the swamp ways.
I'll I al. i'm I
On the limb of tree, above the reach
" predatory creatures. Every morn
ng. as the dawn showed family in the
ree-tops. he gave It lusty cheer
tapping his wings with all the SEEM
ng OF delight Then. often. while the
echo rang, / would open my eyes and
watch the light grow in the dusky
,ayern of the woods. He would sit
lozing awhile after the first outbreak.
md presently as the food Of light grew
'learer, lift himself a little, take an
,ther peep at the sky. and crow again.
urning his head to hear those weird.
hooking ROSTERS of the timber-land.
Then. shortly. would hear my father
,ohing the fire or saying. as he patted
he rooster: Sass EN- back. We noisy
title brat. Thet's right; holler. Tell
)ri It's time Z bring come wood fer
he fire."
In a few minutes the pot and kettle
would be boiling and the camp all
stir. We had trout ard partridge and
enison a-plenty for our meals. that
we're served in dishes of tin. Break
asst over. we packed our things. The
art went on ahead. my father bring
ne the oxen, while started the sheep
With D'ri.
Those sheep were as many thorns in ,
ur flesh that day we made off in the |
ecp woods from Lake Champlain. ,
'ravel was new to them. and what !
18th tearing through thickets and run
ing wild in every slash. they kept us
JUMPING When they were leg-weary ,
nd used TO travel. they began to go I
uicily. But slow work II was at best, I
o or u miles a day being all We could
n, for the weather was hot and our
DAD like the way of the transgrsssOr. /
AR second night in the woods We
ould hear the wolves bowling as We ,
amped at dusk. We built our FIRE /
ear the shore OF big pond. its still