Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1916-08-03

Juol WY perhaps 1t NOuiu pS
to make anyone but a fellow English
instructor understand [ suddenly
tossed my suitcase into the barn, and
began a tour of inspection over my
thirty acres.
There was tonic in that turn! That
brook ran south close to the road
which formed my eastern boundary,
along the entire extent of the farm
some three hundred yards As l fol-
lowed the brook into the naples and
then into the sudden hushed quiet of
my little stand of pines, thought how
all this was mine-my own, to play
with, to develop as a sculptor molds
his clay, to walk in, to read in, to
dream in. Think of owning even a
half-acre Of pine woods, stillest and
coolest of spots! A single great pine,
with wide-spreading, storm-tossed
branches, like a cedar of Lebanon,
stood at the stone wall, just inside my
land.
"Somebody ought to get amusement
out of thisr' 1 said aloud, as I set off
for the barn, gathered up my suitcase.
and climbed the road toward Bert
Temples.
If live to be a hundred, l can never
repay Bert Temple, artist in cauifow-
ers and best of friends in my hour of
need. Bert and his wife took me in,
treated me as a human, if helpless,
fellow being, not as a "city man. to be
feeced, and gave me the best advice
and the best supper a man ever had,
meantime assuring me that my cows
had been tested, and both were sound.
The supper came first 1 hadn't
eaten such a supper since grandmother
died. There were brown bread Joes-
only rival of Rhode Island Johnnycake
for the title Of the lost ambrosia of
Olympus. They were so hot that the
butter melted over them instantly, and
crisp outside, with delicious, runny in
sides.
eaten brown bread Joes since was a
boy. l didn't know the secret existed
any more"
Mrs. Temple beamed over her ample
and calico BOSOM "You
must hev come from Essex or Middle
sex countless" she said, eff you've ct
brown bread JOes before"
After supper Bert took me in hand.
''First thing fer you to dos to git
farmer and carpenter" he said. 81
kin git yer both, if yer want | should.
an not sting yer. Most moo folks thet
| come here gifts stung. Seems like Bent
ford thinks thet's why they comet!
I'm clay in your hands," said I.
"Wall, yer don't exactly know me
Intimately" said Bert with a laugh,
80 yer'd better git a bit o. granite
into yer system. Meow, ez to farmer
there's Mike Finn. He lives bout
Il quarter of a mile from your corner.
He'll come an his sOnll help out with
the heavy work. Wen walk deown
an see him meow, eff yer ike
l liked, and in the soft, spring eve
ming we set off down the road.
wal, then, ez to carpenters" Bert
went on, ''thar's good carpenters, an
bad carpenters, an Hard Cider How
ard Hard elders forgotten more
about .arpent'rin' then most o. the rest
ever knoO, and he amt forgot much,
neither. But he amt handsome, and
he looks upon the apple juice when it's
WALLER. Maybe yer don't mind looks,
an l kin keep Hard Cider sober while
he's on your Job. He'll treat yer fair,
an see tibet the plumbers do
We walked on, turned the corner at
my brook, and followed the other road
along past my pines till we came to a
small settlement of white cottages. At
one of these Bert knocked. We were
admitted by a pretty, blue-eyed Irish
girl, who had copy of Caesars "COm-
mentaries'' in her hand, into a tiny par
Tor, where an "airtight" stove stood
below a cOlOred chrome of the Virgin
and Child, and a middle-aged Irish
man sat in his shirtsleeves, smoking a
pipe.
Hello, Mike" said Bert, "this is Mr..
John Upton, who's bought Milt Mobiles
place, an wants a farmer and gar
dener. l told him you wuz the man."
sit down, sor, sit down." said Mike,
offering a chair with an expansive and
! hospitable gesture. "Sure, let's talk it
over.''
Returning to the house, we took q
sample of the water from the we'll for
analysis. When I asked the old lady
Il made the mistake of calling her Mrs.
Noble to boil the bottle and cork first,
[ think they both decided l was mad.
Now" said l, as l put the sample
in my pocket, ''if this water gets
clean bill Of health, what do you want
for the placer"
"What'Il you give me?" said Milt
Look here" said l, Pm a Yankee.
too, and l can answer one question
with another just as long as you can.
What do you expect me to give your"
The old man spat meditatively, and
wiped his whiskers with the back of
| his hand
Pitt Perkins got five hundred dol
lars an acre for his place." said he.
How'd eight thousand dollars strike
your"
l took the bottle of well water from
my pocket, and extended it toward
him. Here" said, there's no need
| for me to have this analyzed.'
Seven" said he.