The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1909-09-30

vehicle ever seen there.
There the road forks, and one
goes to the right, out past The
old General Bailey farm, later the
Kelver place; past the Clark
Thompson farm on the right, ane
then past 'Old Jim Thompson
place" Some of you older people
will laugh at. the young fellows
who don't know anything about
"Old Jim Thompson" But we
who know can laugh harder.
don't think memory would be
worth much if all of that big
registering, kindly, honest old fel
low could be b1otted out-anld hi:
million fights along with the rest
Beyond him, and also on the
right was the farm OF Judge
Corse, with his big, cultured, e&-
cellent family. Hiram went tc
the army, and afterward into rail
road work. Arthur slipped away
from school one afternoon and
enlisted, and then rode west to
rendezvous at Chicago, and all
the school which had known him
as the foremost scholar, wept
when he went past on the train
A little west of the Corse farm
but there were other children,
Louise married Monroe Thomp-
son, and lived on the Bishop farm
1T the corner, where the road
from Pretty Lake comes north.
Alice was another-and she help
ed me write my first stories-a
sort OF older sister who believed
me, and for whom | shall al
ways have the gentlest memories.
And Prudence, and Hattie-the
beauty of the family; and Alfred.
Mrs. Corse was a great mother,
though a very little woman. She
was the best housekeeper and
manager for miles around. They
lad lots of fruit, and Mr.. Corse
always had the biggest crops in
the county.
But | didn't want to drive the
Montgomery team out that La
Porte road. | wanted to bend to
ehe left there at the Rogers place
and across the marsh, where
every spring the water ros. over
the grade, and so up the steep hill
which ran at the side of the log
house where Mrs. Flemon
Thompson lived with her family
while her husband was hunting
gold in California. Merrick was
the Oldest boy; and then Perry,
and then Fremont-wilo always
was called Colonel; and Jimmy
my Iboyheod friend, who died n
the promise of a splendid futurc
ind little BeTtie, who was a viz
linn OF that spotted fever" epi-
lemiC the spinal meningitis OF
1868, which robbed me OF my
'ather. and which was SO fearfuliv
destructive of life in our Ii Ugh
horhood that year. There were
Two gir's-Alice and another, but
they have passed from my MEM
Dry. A Mrs. Nichols of Ohio,
bought the farm, and Henry
Nichols, her son, who married
my foster sister, Lydia Van
Camp, lived there for years, and
cleared much of the woods away,
md improved the place. Across
he road to the north of him was
he south part of the Bailey farm,
with its great orchard-the best
n the township if not in the
,ounty. | know today right
where the best apples grew.
Grandpa Bailey had a cider mill,
and built up his "cheeses" with
rye straw. And they had fire.
places, and great woodshed,
md barns in which it was fine to
play. Aunt Olive Tapley lived
there with her two daughters,
Carrie and Aldaret. Aunt Olive
vas a sister-in-law of Uncle VIM.
c. Edwards, long a resident of
Plymouth-one OF the pioneers
If the county, by the way.
Just beyond the Bailey farm, on
the north of the road began the
big Jim Thompson farm; and be-
yond the Nichols land came our
OWN farm-which Uncle William
Edwards cleared, for the most
part, for he lived there in the day
of Indians. And there is where
| want to 60. | want to go 20
the barn which my father built
Harrison Nichols was tie car
oenter--and Harrison would
have been Charley Leonard's
father-in-law if he had lived.
Uncle Will Edwards planted our
orchard, and there was a crab ap-
pie tree forest back of the gar
den, and then a maiden blush,
and then the rambo, and then a
Dig white apple that ! don't clas-
sify, but which memory tells me
was the best apple ever ripened
in all the world. The trees were
seedlings, and most of them were
not very good, but they made ex-
cellent cider at Grandpa Bailey's
mill. There is not a square foot
OF that old farm that is not dear
to me today as | recall it. The
wintergreen patch down in the
woods, the huckleberry swamp in
the tamaracs just beyond t. and
the fox dens in the sand hills
all come back with a rush of invi-
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