Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1905-05-26

great virtue there In Far
fSISSssNl away. AS for myself, / could
- never put my heart in q hoe
handle or in any like tool of toll. They
made a blister upon my spirit as we'll
as upon my hands. l tried to find In
the sweat of my brow that exalted
pleasure of which Mr.. Greeley had vi
sions in his comfortable retreat on
Printing House square. But fortunate
~ had not his point Of view.
Hanging i'll my library, where l may
see 1T as l write, Is the old sickle of
Uncle Eb. The hard hickory Of its
handle is worn thin by the grip of his
hand. 1t becomes a melancholy SYM
Dol when I remember how also the
hickory had worn him thin and bent
him low and how infinitely better than
all the harvesting Of the sickle was the
strength Of that man, diminishing as 1t
wore the wood. I cannot help smiling
when l look at the sickle and think of
the soft hands and tender amplitude of
Mi. Greeley.
The great editor had been q playmate
Of David Brewer when they were boys,
and his paper was read with much rev.
erence in our home.
"How quick We can plow a ten acre
lot with a pen," Uncle Eb used to say
when we had gone up to bed after
father had been reading aloud from his
Tribune.
Such was the power Of the press in
that country one had but to say Of any
doubtful thing, "Seen it in print" to
stop all argument. If there were any
further doubt he had only to say that
he had read it either in the Tribune or
the Bible and couldn't remember
which. Then it was a mere question
OF yeracity in the speaker. Books and
other reading were carefully put away
for an improbable time of leisure.
Il might break my leg some time,''
said David Brewer; then they'll come
handy" But the Tribune was read
carefully every week.
l have seen David Brewer stop and
look at me while I have been digging
potatoes with a sober grin such as
came to him always after he had swap
ped chooses" and got the worst Of 1t.
Then he would show me again, with O
little Impotence in his manner, how to
hold the handle and stfaddle the row.
He would watch me for a moment, turn
to Uncle Eb, laugh hopelessly and say:
"Thet boy'll hev to be a minister. He
can't work."
But for Elizabeth Brewer it might
have gone hard with me those days, NV
mind was always on my books or my
last talk with Jed Feary, and she shared
my confidence and fed my hopes and
shielded me as much as possible from
the heavy work. Hope had a better
head for mathematics than 1 and had
always helped me with my sums, but
had a better memory and an aptitude
In other things that kept me at the head
of most Of my classes.
Best of all at school I enjoyed the
compositions" l had many thoughts,
such as they We're, and some facility Of
expression, L doubt not, for a child.
Many chronicles Of the countryside
came off my pen, sketches Of odd events
and characters there in PARKWAY. These
We're read to the assembled household,
Elizabeth Brewer would sit looking
grayely down at me as I stood by her
knees reading in those days Of my
early boyhood. Uncle Eb listened with
his head turned %curiously, as II his ear
were cooked for Don Sometimes he
and David Brewer would slap their
knees and laugh heartily, whereat my
foster mother would give them a quick
glance and shake her head, for she
was always fearful Of the day when
she should see in her children the birth
Of vanity and sought to put it off as fal
as might be. Sometimes she would
cover her mouth to hide a smile and
when 1 had finished look warningly al
1.-THE rest and say it was good for a lit
tie boy. Her praise never went fur
Their, and, indeed, all those people hated
lattery as they did the devil and
trowned upon conceit. She said that
when the love Of aattery got hold Of
one he would lie to gain 1t.
I can see this slender, blue eyed wo
man as I write. She is walking up anG
down beside her spinning wheel. I car
hear the dreary buz-z-z-z Of the spindle
as she feeds it with the feecy ropes
, That loud crescendo echoes in the still
house of memory. I can hear her sing
Ing as she steps forward and slows thu
wheel and swings the cradle with hel
foot:
ION the other side Of Jordan,
In the sweet fields Of Eden.
Where the tree Of life Is blooming
There Is rest for you."
She lays her hand to the spokes again
and the roar Of the spindle browns he
voice.
All day, from the breakfast hour t,
supper time, I have heard the disma
sound Of the spinning as she walked
: the floor, content to sing Of rest, bu
never taking 1t.
Her home was almost q miracle {
neatness. She could work with L
peace of mind until the house had bee
swept and busted. A 1yspeck on tt
window was enough to cloud her da.
She went to town with David now an
then-not oftener than onc a quarter
and came back i'll and exhausted.
she sat in a store waiting for Dayi
while he went to mill Or smithy her in
%agination gave her no rest. That di
abhorring mind Of hers would begin
clean the windows, and when that WI
finished it would sweep the floor an
dust the counters. In due our
would lower the big chandelier al