Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1921-06-10

swer, and so the days journey began.
Often. near its end, they came to
some lonely farmhouse. Always Sam
son would stop and go TO the door
to ask about the roads. followed by
little Joe and Betsey with secret hopes.
One of these hopes was. related to
cookies and maple sugar and buttered
| bread and had been cherished since
an hour of good fortune early in the
| trip and encouraged by sundry good
| hearted women along the road An
other was the hope of seeing a baby
mainly. it should be said. the hope
of Betsey. Joes interest was merely
an echo of hers. He regarded babies
with an open mind, as it were, for
the opinions of his sister still had
some weight with him. she being a
year and half older than he. but
babies invariably disappointed him,
their capabilities being so restricted.
Still, not knowing what might happen,
he always took look at every baby.
The children were lifted out of the
wagon to stretch their legs at sloughs
close behind the legs of their father |
when he stood at a strangers door. |
Then, the night being near, they were
always invited to put their horses in
the barn and tarry until next morn
ing. This was due in part to the visit
full faces of the little children-a fact
unsupported by their parents. What
motherly heart could resist the silent
appeal of children's faces or fail to
understand it? Those were memorable
nights for Sarah and Joe and Betsey. In
a letter to her brother the woman said:
you don't know how good it seems
to see woman and talk to her, and
we talked and talked until midnight,
after all the rest were asleep. She
let me hold the baby in my lap until
it was put to bed. How good it felt
to have a little warm body in my
arms again and feel ii breathing In
all my life 1 never saw a prettier
baby 1t felt good to be in a real
house and sleep in a soft, warm bed
and TO eat jelly and cookies and fresh
meat and potatoes and bread and but
ter. Samson played for them and
kept them laughing with his stories
until bedtime. They wouldn't take
cent and gave us a dozen eggs in a
basket and piece of venison when
We went away"
On a warm, bright day in the sand
country they came to crude, half
frame house at the edge Of
wide clearing. The sand lay in
lrifts on one side of the road. 1t
ad evidently moved in the last wind.
sckly vegetation covered the field.
| ragged, barefooted man and three
ill-clad children stood in the
ooryard. 1t was nOontime A mon
rel dog, with a bit of the hound in
i'm, came bounding and barking to-
'ard the wagon and pitched upon
ambo and quickly got the worst of
. Sambo, after much experience
| self-defense, had learned that the
est way out of such trouble was to
eize a leg and hang on. This he
Id. The mongrel began to yelp. Sam
IN lifted both dogs by the backs of
eir necks, broke the hold of Sambo :
nd tossed aside the mongrel, who L
n away whining. q
THAT reminded me of bull that u
ckled a man over in Vermont" he 81
id. "The man had a club in his
nd. He lodged and grabbed the
IFS tail and beat him all over the
: As the bull roared, the man hol-
ed: I'd like to know who began
IS fuss anyway"
The stranger laughed.
rs that your house?" Samson said. r.
The man stepped nearer and an hN
cred in low, confidential tone: N
Say, mister. this is a combination ~
)rhouse and idiot asylum. l am 10
idiot. These are the poor" -
lie pointed to the children. r.
You don't talk like an idiot" said II
nson.