Evening star., 1906-09-08
THE OLD TIME WE'LL

| around the corner from where Iive,"
said the rotund. comfortable-looking man.
| there's one of those old-time artesiaa
Gently been condemned by the District
board of health. Presently the pump will
| be taken away and the well covered over.
| and that old corner mark. that probably
still lives vfvidly in the youthful mem-
| ories of many widely scattered men and
women who have been fighting the battle
VIC all must fight for many years since
they quit the neighborhood OF their child
hood, viii be no more. With the departure
| OF the ancient pump a lot of that corners
| suggestiveness will pass for me, top.
was born and brought up something more
than thousand miles from that pump:
but I hardly ever catch sight Of 1t in
walking by, especially on fine. mellow
mornings when I'm strolling to my Office
that the pump doesn't fetch up before me
the picture of another well around which
cluster.
This well was in the yard Of the home
In the little western town In which was
raised; It was a deep well Of mason work,
housed by a pagoda-like structure with a
peaked roof and with its three sides OF
lattice work. and a very old and gnarlcd
peach tree, growing at the rear of the
wellhouse. spread it's branches completely
oyes the top of it. In the spring the roof
OF the wellhouse used to be covered with
the fallen pinkish white blossoms from
this aged peach tree; and at night. when
| was little boy, used, late in summer,
to hear the huge peaches falling in the
night breeze from the tree to the roof Of
the wel1house with padded little thumps
| that caused me to imagine, as can re-
member, that some brownie or gnome. in
climbing around the wellhouse, had slip
| ped and fallen and given himself bump.
That was one Of the old-fashioned
wells In which two buckets attached to
the ends of a chain were used. On a
sweltering day. coming in from some
predatory excursion in the deep woods
after birds nests or something of that
do would be to hop to the well and draw
bucket OF water, and, tipping the bot
tom of the bucket up on the edge Of the
top board, drink our fill from It's messy
hear the curious mild, complaining creak
of that bucket chain as 1t slid over the
pulley, and then see the brimming bucket,
all wet and silvery and running over at
darkness Of the well into the light, as
tugged and tugged at the chain. When
was quite a little chap l was forbidden to
draw water from the well, for the job re-
quired not a little strength, and mite of
youngster was in considerable danger
Of being yanked of his feet by the chain
and pulled into the we'll But when the
old folks weren't looking used to sur
| the well to prove my strength, and I can
recall how immensely proud 1 was when
the time gradually drifted around when
was allowed to draw well water without
last long, by the way, for when the time
came that I could draw water without
any danger Of going into the well they
were after me all the time to draw the
water. When the washing was to be done
on Monday mornings was delegated to
bring up the water, for example, to fill
three or four large tubs ranged around
the summer kitchen.
Many a time one or other Of the well
buckets was lost in the well. generally
through the fooling Of one or other Of US
youngsters. I'd be pulling up a bucket Of
water, for instance. without any notion
that there was anybody except me any
where near the we'll: and I'd have the
bucket almost pulled to the top and ready
to haul 1t over the top board when one OF
my brothers, barefooted, would suddenly
dart In behind me and tickle me in the
ribs with both Of his sets Of fingers: and
in my surprise, Of course, I'd let go Of the
chain, and down to the bottom Of the well
the full bucket Of water would drop, ker
plunk, and then the empty bucket would
come a-hurtling up. humping the stone sides
in its ascent. and when it got to the top and
hit the pulley wheel, why of course, one of
the chain links would give, and down to
the bottom of the well the empty bucket
would rattle. Many the singing waflop-'
ings I've got for letting well bucket get
away from me In that OF some other fool
I'VE, kept, as everybody else with wells
did. three-pronged graphing hook for
just such emergencies. It was a part OF
loose and submerged well bucket every little
while.
Nobody with a well in a yard ever
thought Of taking ice In those days. Per-
ishable articles were kept ccol and in
condition by being let down into the well.
We always had a sizable crock Of butter
hanging in the well. My mother, recall.
boys to raise or lower the butter. Shed
do that herself and save after conse-
quences. can see her now leaning over
tho top board. lowering the crock skill
fully into the well and holding the rope
far out over the center to keep 1t from
knocking against the sides. and the peach
blossoms from the fine old tree over the
top Of the well falling through the lattice
work on her hair-mighty thick suit of
glossy brown hair my little old mother
had in those days. she sure did. and
skin to match the pink of the peach blos-
sonaa Thu! the silver and paid touch
of time!
"And the watermelons we used to let
down in that old well to chill EN- for the
night feast-don't talk! Only one Of the
buckets could be used. of course, while
melon was undergoing its chilling treat
ment in this way, and dad. he drew all the
water while the melon was down. You can
have your watermelons cooled In crushed
filled with champagne, and all that kind Of
thing. but there never was a watermelon
anywhere on earth to compare with those
that my dad used to slide out Of the silver
dripping old bucket after the twilight had
fallen and the stars were a-gieam, and cut
with the long butcher knife on the deal
table In the Kitchen.
How we tads used to try to dodge the
additional ceremony at that well on sum-
mer nights after we'd been trotting around
barefoot all dayl We'd be pretty sleepy by
the turning-in time, and when We were
ready to make for bed we'd sort of sidle
and slide and sink. to dodge out Of the
sight Of our mother: but never once, in all
the years, did any OF US get away with our
Sinking proceedings. Shed nail every
time, even when we were all but in the
door on our way to bed.
Son. she'd call out quietly from some
where or other. you haven't bathed your
feet yet
"'They amt dirty, maw.' would be our
inevitable reply-as If q boy could trot
around fields and lots all day long and keep
his feet in condition to turn into spotless
sheets. Homes. they amt. maw.'
"'Come here and let me see them, son.,
she would reply, in that quiet way Of
hers; and then we'd nudge over to her. and
she'd hold the Oil lamp to look at our dis
I,op5