The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1919-06-26
EARLY IOWA FARM BOY.
The Late Howard Burrell Compiled
a List OF His Early Mlseries
Typical OF Boys OF Today.

Everyone had his own list. Among
our early miseries were:
!. Churning-The big dash churn
stood in the north room OF the large
cellar, and into it was turned, sew
eral times week, lot or cream
and Ed and were set as motors on
the plug OF the dasher. Never did dog
or horse on a treadmill hate it's job
worse than we. For 1t took so long
to fetch the butter, as nothing was
known in those days about tempera,,
ture or atmospheric conditions, and
tempering the wind to a pat 10 OF
vironment" was all adverse and
preye1e, we had to maui that cream
for hours. Each wore long check
ed apron as a sort of preface or
frontispiece, and we took turn about
hammering that dough-like stuff.
The churn was so tall, or we SO
short, the uplift tired our arms woe
fully, and our labors were very inter- ter,
mittent and. spasmodic. One would
sail into it like fury for several min
utes, chugging the cream like a
Dugilist, and scattering it all about
as it would shoot up through the
hinged space about the dasher, and
when he was spent the other would
take hold and release his energy up
on it. No use-the butter, would
not come. The cream sulked: Hour
couraged lad soldiered on the hope,
1 work. 'f But it Was delightful
moment when our ears caught that
watery sound which denoted that
the fatty particles had finally de-
cided to divorce themselves from
the milk, and then the strokes be-
hy,t we're
given swirling motion of the dash
er. That sequel of sound always
atoned for the worse than laws
delay Churning days were days
of doom.
2. Washing Saturday nights we
had to wash ourselves whether we
needed it or not. There We're no
lang syne. In houses with modern
conveniences where there is a pretty
secluded room with bathtub, hot and
cold water can be turned on by a
faucet, and rough and soft towels
and sponges, and perfumed soap,
ETC., it is a luxury, to Wallow like a
hippopotamus, and stretch and rub
and grunt and splash, and rub one, 5
self down like Greek statue, and
# one had been born again. But
in those dreary days we had to go to
the kitchen and use tin wash basin,
and rag and soft soap that our
mother had billed" And it took
SO long to go over our bodies! We
never wanted to grow up and get
big for it would take that much
longer. Think of a six-foot man,
weighing over two hundred pounds,
going over himself with six-by-
three rag. We used to hate Satur-
daynights like ''pizen,' and wish
that Sunday had never been invent
led. We could see no virtue in clean
illness. We liked to make dust pies
and roll in the dirt, and slush
around in puddles and pools on a
raft, and really envied the wallow-
ing hogs, frescoing their bulk in
mud. But at the weeks end was
fate, to scrub was written on the
iron leaf; and we looked around
with that rag, and got soap in our
eyes, and sputtered and said naughty
words, and finally rubbed ourselves
dry, and looked at our anatomy and
said THAT darned job is done for
another week, anyhow" When we
grew bigger, in summer, We diplo-
mats GOT = mitigation Of sentence.
We were allowed 70 skip Saturday
nights and 80 On Sunday to Black