Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1918-05-20
CHAPTER I.
The Melon Harvest.


Once upon a time | owned wa
termelon. l say once because /
never did it again. When / got
through owning that melon ] never
wanted another. The time was
1881; I was a boy of seven and
the melon was the first of all my
harvests. Every night and morning
[ Watered and felt and surveyed
my watermelon. My pride grew
with the melon and, by and by, my
uncle tried TO express the extent
and nature of my riches by call
ing me a melliOnaire.
/ didn't know much about myself
thoes days except the fact that my
name was Bart Baynes and, further,
that 1 was an orphan who owned a
watermelon and a little spotted hen
and lived on Rattleroad in a neigh
borhood called Lickitysplit. / lived
with my Aunt Deel and my Uncle
| Peabody Baynes on a farm. They
were brother and sister-he about
IS and she a little beyond the far
distant goal of 40.
My father and mother died in a
scourge OF diphtheria that swept
| the neighborhood when l was boy
of 5. For a time my Aunt Deel
| seemed to blame me for my loss.
mo wonder they're dead" she
used to say, when out of patience
with me and-welI 1 suppose that
must have had an unusual talent
| for all the noisy arts of childhood
: when 1 broke the silence of that lit
tie home.
The word dead" set the mile
stone in the long stretch Of my
memory. That was because I tried
so hard to comprehend it and fur
Their because it kept repeating its
challenge to my imagination.
l often wonder just what had be
| come of my father and mother and
! I remember that the day after
went to my aunt's home a great
! idea came to me. 1t came out of
the old dinner-horn hanging in the
shed. | knew the power Of its sum-
| mons and I shyly captured the horn
and marched around the house
/ blowing it and hoping that it would
! bring my father IN from the fields.
! I blew and blew and listened for
| that familiar halo of his. When
/ pausel for a drink of water at the
well my aunt came and seized the
horn and said it was no wonder
they were dead. She knew nothing
of the sublime bit of necromancy
1 she had interrupted-poor soul!
I knew that she had spoken of
my parents for | supposed that they
were the only people in the world
who were dead, but l did not know
what it meant to be dead. 1 often
called to them as had been wont to
do, especially in the night, and shed
many tears because they came no
more to answer me. Aunt Deel did
not often refer directly TO my tai
ents, but I saw, many times, that
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS look in her
face.
Children are great rememberers.
/ They are the recording angels-the
/ keepers of the book of life. Man
/ forgets-how easily!-and easiest
! of all, the solemn truth that chill
dren do not forget.
A few days after / arrived in the
home Of my aunt and uncle 1 slyly
| entered the parlor and climbed the
what-nOt to examine some white
flowers on its top shelf and tipped
/ the whole thing over, scattering its
| burden of albums, wax flowers and
sea shells on the floor. My aunt
came running on her tiptOes and
exclaimed: Mercy! Come right
out o. here this minute-yOu pest! "
/ took some rather long steps out
which were due to the fact that
Aunt Deel had hold of my hand.
While l sat weeping she went back
into the parlor and began to pick
up things.
MY wreath my WREATH"
heard her moaning.
How well / remember that little
| assemblage of flower ghosts in
wax They had no-1nore right to
associate with human beings than
/ the ghosts of fable. Uncle Peabody
used to call them the "Minervy
/ flowers" because they were a pres
ent from his Aunt Minerva. When
Aunt Deel returned to the kitchen
where | sat-a sorrowing little ref
ugee hunched up in corner-she
said: al have to tell you Uncle
Peabody-ayes!"