Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1907-06-08

or should do, one OF these days!
Always over yonder, where the
hills meet the sky IN a purple haze,
the trees are green and doing
their best to burst every bud; the
pussy willows are preparing for the
Pcoming of the catbird, and the
croaking of the frogs and the smell
of the new earth is a call of the
wild as loud as a trumpet blast.
Follow the scent like the hound and
at the end you will find creek that
has it's source in a swamp and
trickles it's merry and tortuous way
to the river.
Don't you wish you could turn
time back for thirty or more years;
back to the days of patches and
bare legs, laughter, freckles and
stone bruises; back where there was
only one care in the world, and that
was to be on hand at meals?
You. cannot. You didn't ap-
preciate your own boyhood. You
are slave to business. You are
chained to a desk. You have to
make profits. You eat and talk and
sleep business. You talk it at home
until the folks are annoyed. The
other day one of your children
asked; WAS papa eyer a little
boy?"
Let's steal a day. Even a slave
should be allowed to drop his chains
once in a while. Certainly an over
worked business man, carrying
load that rounds his shoulders and
grays his hair, can flee from trouble
for a little while and try to think
he is twelve and there is only sun
shine in the world.
Tomorrow morning early come
over and throw a stone up against
the window. We will pack up some
lunch and steal away for one whole,
golden day. Never mind the family
breakfast. Come at four a. m. and
We'll leave a note saying that we
have been suddenly called away
and that the folks are mot to
worry"
Get tie spade. There is bully
corner for bait in the back yard.
We will dig a canful of the wr1ggl-
ing worms, hide the spade and the
evidence of our crime and then
away to the country. Wen cut
alder poles and. with trembling
fingers that have all but lost their
skill in the lapse of years, arrange
our tackle, find a deep. dark pool,
burn tobacco in our corncob pipes,
and FISH.
You'll wonder what they are do
ing at the Office and what was IN the
morning paper. Cut that out.
There isn't any office. We are boys
today. You.have catfish and I'm
trembling because my bobber has
gone under water and something is
pulling like whale. It'sIa bullheaG.
We will dress it and some more like
it, rub sthem with salt, cook them
on stick and eat them, bones and
all. Yes, sir, bones and all. You
don't mean to say that you never
did? Well, you have missed lot.
We will fish a bit, and after that
you may shout if you like.
A country boy yells just for the
pure joyI of living. 1t will do lie
good. How good the sun feels
There is squirrel on thefence, and
a boy is driving COWS down'the road,
wh1stling asgmerrily as bobolink.
Poor devil! He doesn't know that
Steel common is paying no dividend
and that cotton is loss. Hedoesn't
care, but he can spell h-a .p-p-i-n-e-s-
s, God bless him!
The smoke from our fire smells
good. If we had a spade we would
| dig out woodchuck. There is sas-
safras IN the woods and the young
wintergreens are ready for eating.
Over at the farmhouses we will
get rich milk, doughnuts, salt rising
bread and russell apples.
And then the sun will go down
over the hills, while the shadows
will purple and then grow black,
and the country will grow still and
silence will seem almost sacred as
we trudge down the road back to
the other lire, the trouble, the hurry
and the cares of a city life.
Never mind. It is a part of the
great plan, and the man who has
kept his heart so free that he can
still love the soil, the trees, the
sunshine and the joys that nature
has bestowed, is worth while.
So don't forget-four a. m. Throw
stone against the window, and
We'll steal day.
/ %@A
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