Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1945-03-02

N1SSoNSE LII people what we LOOK loTs
My mother looked for the best and
she usually found it.
She also was the "quietest" teach
er ever knew. Sometimes I did
not know was being taught; some
times the impact of what she had
taught did not hit me until long
after.
At this time the farmers were put
ting in croquet grounds, so of course
l wanted one. This meant work, for
l had to get our spade and level off
some of the humps in the yard and
fill In the holes, but I got the work
done and my father brought home
long wooden box with little iron
hook and eye on the side. I was
delighted with the wooden mallets.
Each had band of color around
the handle and each ball had a band
OF color, too. The stakes wore a
rainbow. It was fine croquet set
and l was thrilled. Ma and Pa and
Phebe (my mothers niece) and the
hired man and would play. I
would stop work any time.
One day, when I was in town, a
neighbor boy Earl Trullinger came
to see me. He had become bored
by having to play alone and had
banged things about. Then he left.
When I got home, two of my pre-
cious mallet handles were broken.
was mad, and that night after
work I sat down to write Earl a
letter. could not wait till saw
him. wanted my revenge then and
there. told him exactly what I
thought of him; then I went back
and told it all over again just to
make sure.
My mother kept watching me, as
I destroyed Earl, and when my
masterpiece was finished, she asked
me to read it aloud which did with
a great deal of pleasure.
AS I read she kept nodding her
head and saying, "My! my! that's
going to scorch him." THAT'S it,
Homer, give it to him!"
was pleased with her approval,
and went back and added some fine
touches.
That's the best one yet. Tear
into him again."
tore into him until pretty soon
Earl was in worse condition than
my mallet handles.
When my letter was completed
and I was glowing, she said, II
think you can improve on that.
Tackle it again tomorrow night"
was for getting it into the mail
while the thing was still sizzling,
but under her advice, I waited. The
next night I got out my letter and
read it through again. It did not
seem quite so good.
"Tear it up" she said.
looked at her in amazement.
"Tear it up?" I repeated, fabber-
gasted.
eyes. You must never mail a
letter you've written in anger. Write
it, but don't mail it. Now write
him nice polite letter and ask him
to come over and play croquet with
you"
wrote the letter (muttering to
myself. 1t wasn't nearly the mas
terpiece the other was, but it did
ask him to come and play with me.
took it down to the mailbox and
put it in, thinking my mother didn't
know much about boys.
A few days later Earl came to
see me, and brought with him two
mallets from his own set with the
exact colors of the ones he had
broken. He said he was sorry he'd
broken mine. Then he saved his
face. He had been getting ready to
bring the mallets over when he had
received my letter, he said.
1t wasn't long before Earl and I
were whooping and screeching and
banging the balls about in the ut
most good fellowship. My mother
did not mention the matter and it
was not until some time later that
the full force of what she had taught
hit me.
In January my father would say,
II expect we'd better get ready to
butcher" and my heart would 90
down again. More work. "I'u help
you carry out the kettle, Homer"
Another of his sly jokes, for he
would have to do most of the carry-
ing. We'd get the big black iron
kettle and carry it out and put it on
an old tumbling rod from thresh-
ing outfit. 1t was my duty, when the
kettle was dangling on the rod, to
bring wood and a basket of cobs to
start the fire. Pa would be cutting
and sharpening the gambrels; when
that was done we'd haul out the bob
sled. Work, work, no end of work:
that's the way it seemed to me. Yet
kind of exciting, too. for tomorrow
there'd be lots of people. and lots
of laughing and codding.
The next morning could hardly
wait till I'd see the neighbors COM
ing down the road. BY the time
they arrived, the fire would be leap
ing, the scalding platform and the
cutting tables would be ready. One
of the neighbors would be Newt
Kennedy-Newt with his overcoat
held together in front by the huge
brass safety pin, his trousers stuffed
Al e l. :. I'll