The daily Gate City and constitution-Democrat. (Keokuk, Iowa) 1916-1922, 1919-03-07

women have invaded the economic
s;elds to the extent of running street
cars, and wiping engines, it would still
Ne something of distinct shock to
sile poet who wrote about the smith a
mighty man is he" to see the Village
biacksmithess juggling red hot irons
and helping the village smithy fashion
the glowing metal into plowshare.
The village blacksmith shop is in a
stone building built perhaps about the
time that the infant republic of the
western world was fighting for Its very
life against the tyrant hordes from
besse Castle, and French soldiers
We're being thrown into the balance by
Louis to turn the tables on the English.
Everything about it is old, even the
srs1thy and his wife are toiling there,
Gay by day, painfully. slowly eking
out living, fashioning the few rude
tools needed by their neighhors, them
selves old, in order perhaps that some
younger man might give himself to
the whirlpool Of war and help to strug-
gle against the current and turn the
tide of victory France-wards.
Can you imagine a man in the
early sixties OF life, one who has reach
ed II not surpassed tho measure of life
49, NV oo0ebaiy SS1ilkJuJCS III
day by day at hot metals, held on the
|envil by his wife, woman in the late
f1fties, her hands gnarled and veined
by hard work. with times. burrows and
perhaps the marks CO grief's pillow
across her face in deep lines and wrin-
lies and burrows? Children dart in and
out the door. pei haps like the villagers
.ot Evangeline fame who watched Basil
the blacksmith at his forge. But unlike
these, their interest is not in the glow
ing Goals or the flames which sweep
tip the chimney under the impetus of
The bellows, but rather in the contents
Of the mess kits carried up and down
the street by new found friends. who
call them Jack and give them slices Of
bread-white bread that tastes like
cake to the wheat hungry youngsters.
And can You imagine q veritable cur
iosity shop OF horse shoes, plow heads,
yokes. chains. scales. bits of iron and
brass II you can perhaps yoli can have
some idea of the atmosphere in which
-he blacksmith and blacksmithess Of
Demange work.
The day that discovered them
they were beating a piece of iron into
shape to go on wooden or half wood,
half iron p1owshare The old black
smith, sledge in hand stood leaning on
a bench watching the fire His wife,
her foot on the tread of the bellows,
was intently watching the metal glow
ire in the heat Of the kindled charcoal.
II any one has ever tried to burn some
Of the charcoal dished up here, 1t no
doubt crossed his mind how on earth
he coal was ever coaxed into heat But
1ot~1 1t was, and iron was fast rivalin,,
flpsY yu tai a L. a
crackers. one could think of nothing
else, was in her hand. and she gripped
tire red hot metal With them. With a
dett sweep she swung it clear of the
forge. and then over the anvil, where
her spouse began to hammer it into
some semblance of the pillow it was to
cover.
Turning it deftly, as she would a
piece of toast, were she cooking over
The little French stove in her own
the blaclssmith-ess followed
tire strokes Of the sleGge dealt by herl
spouse. until the edge was skillfullyi
turned. and the iron ready for second
heating. The blows-some Of them
taltered, and fell against the anvil: old
age is not always reliable but alwa is
they recovered again on the next
swing, and patiently the couple worked
to fashion the iron
Over in one corner of the shop was
g scale, very old fashioned scale too.
If you can remember rs far back as /,
Baldvfn's fifth or sixth reader, and
cin recall fhe story OF the mint mast /
er's daughter Betty, WHO on her we'd ]
ding day was put in on one side of the i
scale, while the other was heaped high |
with pine tree shillings as q dowry, /
perhaps you will recall the picture of !,
the scales. A large square platform |
with chains from each corner reach
TO the beam. which is balanced on an
upright. Such was the scale which
stood in the corner of tho room, and I
enc recalling the story and the picture
could not help but wonder If any brids
has been weighed on those scales, and
had been found worth her weight in
silver as the mint masters had been.
The sound of the hammer on the /
ircr, the ring of the anvil brings back
a flood of memories OF the days of old /
the days of real sDort--when young