Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1911-08-08

woman" Just why she was called
that l never knew, but she Certainly
deserved the name of the old beggar
woman, for she literally supported a
large number of her children and
grandchildren by begging. If She
could only be duplicated now. tramps
would starye to death if they had to
depend upon WauSau handouts, after
she had made her rounds.
And now let me take YOU up on a
high hill, EAST hill will do not for
the same purpose that is charged
against his satanic majesty, but to
again bring more forcibly to YOUR
minds eye the ''scenes of long ago"
OF to the right, where Stinchfield
creek started on Journey to augment
the ''old WiSconse," lay Manson's
farm, and back of it, on the hill. the
old Wood house where genial Ike Gun
solly met such a tragic death. To
the left is the LemeSSurier farm, and
in front lay the old marsh, which, in
the Sprlngtime, poured it's volumes of
waters through the gully now marlled
by the bridge approach on Grand
~
Way of in the distance, marked by a
white spot here and there, is the
cemetery. Between the marsh and
town lay many acres of burnt over
land most of which was then owned
by Andrew Warren, Jr., who had
grievance against the people of Wau-
sau because they cut up and carried
off the worthless burned tree trunks.
Once, when telling how he had been
robbed of his timber, he continued,
land then when God prospered me
again and little green sod grew there
they even stole that to beautify their
lawns" A worthy successor to the
parent who, in giving his boarding
house keeper instructions as to how
meals should be prepared, said, ''when
you make bean soup use a small guam
t1ty of beans and large quantity of
Water.''
But 1 digress. Beyond the little
village is the old river with it's string
of booms and piers, the old grist mill,
the four old SaWmillS and the piles of
sweet smelling pine lumber. Across
the river is waste of burnt over
land, stretching up to the Kickbusch
hill, while to the southwest is Rib
hill rearing its head majestically up
into the clouds even as grandly as it
must now in these days of progress.
Unless you saw them then you cannot
see all these things as l see them now,
but one who has ever viewed the
scene as | have so feebly tried to depict
can never fail to recall the dear old
pioneer village of Wausau. Indeed,
the old village is Vita WauSau (far
Off but not SO far but that one can
reach it quickly in his minds eye
even by the old stage coach route.
But we have seen enough from the
hill and let US now 60 over to the
bridge and see the lumbermen run
ming the RATS of lumber over the
falls. Yes, it is too tame watching
them so we will go up and take ride
over the roaring Big Bull falls. We
start out, the raft floating lazily along
as though the idea was to kill time.
Soon, however, it reaches quick water
and then with sliding leap is over
the dam into the boiling caldron be-
low. How our hearts thump as we
see the big rocks ahead and the
angry breakers leaping forward SIS if
to engulf the raft and its living
freight. But with Jack Clarke, one
of Armstrong; or Swopes, or any of
the multitude of old pilots at the oar
there is little or no danger and soon
the raft is gliding as serenely
through the waters below the bull
tail as though it had not just passed
through so turbulent scene. Did you
get wet 1t wouldn't have been ex-
citing without ducking, or at least
scramble to reach the top of the
pile of shingles to avoid contact with
the breakers. 1t was enjoyable, and
and unless one had run the falls' at
least once, his cup of pleasure was not
full.
Time will roll on, and those who
are now playing at our feet in child
ish glee will soon be telling their
children and grandchildren of the
scenes about the city as they knew
them in their youth, but no generation
will ever be able again to tell of the
pioneer days when our fathers laid
the foundation for the beautiful and
progressive city that has so thorough
ly proven the wisdom of all who
showed their faith in the little settle
ment at the head of Big Bull falls.
AS we who have passed through these
scenes grow older and are more in
clined to let our minds run back to
those good old days, we cannot help
but turn back the hands of time and
draw around US the forms and faces
of those whom we knew and loved
and honored, drawing alike upon the
active city and the silent city, again
placing them on the scene of action
and, for the time being, re-living the
glorious scenes of our early childhood
and the epoch-making days of the
city. Whether we may be permitted
to meet once more and talk over the
past is not for us to know, but can
not help feeling that we will.
Then here's hand, my trusty frlen,'
A gie's hand o. thine;
Well TAX cup o. kindness yet,