On Randolph Hills 
 
 BY 
 
 CULRK E. STEWART
 
 LI E) RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 mm wiWRKHusiavit

 
 Second Edition 
 
 0*1 RoHdolpM. JtdU 
 
 Personal Memories - Anecdotes 
 Reminisences - and Characters 
 
 By CLARK EMERSON STEWART 
 
 Price: Paper Cover 40c; Cloth Bound 75c 
 
 1943 
 
 Printed by The Heyworth Star
 
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 Sf^D On Randolph Hills 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The hills of Randolph mostly rise to mark the shores 
 of the Kickapoo. They do not seem so great in size, but 
 add much beauty to the view. Their sides, all carpeted 
 with green are sometimes steep and rugged too. The 
 Creek glints in this charming scene. The winding, smiling 
 Kickapoo. 
 
 For eighteen miles the waters eat into the bluffs of 
 soil and clay. Sometimes a drop of forty feet shows 
 where the current made its way. The hills are lovely 
 to the view, but take a value from the land. A 
 forest of great trees once grew along the hills, but now 
 the hand of man has sadly changed the view, and but a 
 few remaining stand. 
 
 The early settlers mostly built beneath their hos- 
 pitable shade. They found the water. Found the silt, 
 found the fuel ready made. 
 
 The later settlers had to cast their lot on prairies, * 
 vast and cold. But fire and plow and tile at last has 
 changed that sea to waving gold. 
 
 The memory of each swelling hill is very vivid to me 
 yet, for there I learned to toil and till in winter's cold and 
 summer's sweat. 
 
 I loved its men and women wise. Knowing their 
 worth and virtues true — who strove to make a Paradise. 
 I loved them for their vices, few. To those brave char- 
 acters who toiled so worthily, their homes forsook and 
 built an Eden in the wild, I dedicate this little book. 
 
 [ 3 ]
 
 I can remember it first when the neighborhood was 
 just emerging from the pioneer stage and I had the 
 satisfaction of seeing it develop into an educated and re- 
 fined community. 
 
 We always claimed, with considerable evidence, that 
 Center School District was an unusually intellectual com- 
 munity. Witness the literary societies, the debating 
 clubs, a good church and Sunday School ; even a brass 
 band. All these contributed to its process. 
 
 In my earlier memories I can think of many of the 
 *'Snow Birds," so-called because they came before the 
 famous deep snow. They were all men and women of 
 great courage and patience and all had pronounced 
 opinions and strong conviction. Many of them were 
 
 Scene Along The Kickapoo 
 Powell Farm 
 [ 4 ]
 
 what one might call ''characters." 
 
 Gardner Randolph himself was a character. He was 
 the first settler. But as soon as the population began to 
 increase he moved on — farther west. He said it was get- 
 ting so civilized that a man could not feel free any more. 
 
 THE SQUIRES 
 We had in the neighborhood many interesting men — 
 strong, silent men. Yes, and some strong garrulous ones, 
 too. Several of the best ones had been elected Squire and 
 they administered what ever justice seemed needed in our 
 mostly pacific community. 
 
 One of the most interesting ones was SQUIRE 
 STRINGFIELD. A short, wiry, nervous type of man — 
 very active, very friendly, and very devout. He had a 
 high, piping voice which he kept pretty much occupied 
 all the time. That is, when he could get any one to listen 
 to his tales of the early settling of the township ; of their 
 hardships and privations ; of their sacrfices and struggles. 
 **Rough and ready" was the soubriquet that he gave him- 
 self. 
 
 SQUIRE CROOKSHANK — since changed properly 
 to Cruikshank — but still a name of rather doubtful origin. 
 Mr. Crookshank had a thin trembly voice. He also stut- 
 tered very much at times. One day a good Methodist 
 said to him. *'We will live long enough to see you safe 
 in the Methodist fold." 
 
 ''Well, it is p-p-p- possible, but not very p-p-p- prob- 
 able," responded Mr. Crookshank good naturedly. 
 
 £5]
 
 SQUIRE THOMPSON. Mr. Thompson was to me in 
 my boyhood day a very reserved man. He said very little 
 and I believed him to be cold and stern. But I remember 
 being very much surprised one day to hesiY Father urge 
 him to come over and see us and take dinner. And Father 
 expressed to me the sentiment that Squire Thompson was 
 a very worthy citizen. Which, as I said, was a real sur- 
 prise to me. 
 
 He had a couple of lively boys. I remember once 
 when I happened to be at their house on Sunday that the 
 boys hitched up a pair of colts to the buggy, intending to 
 take their sisters to Heyworth. The Squire protested that 
 they could not handle the horses. But the boys boldly re- 
 plied, ''We'll show you." But when they started to drive 
 out of the barnyard the colts made a dash and first thing, 
 they ran the buggy into the fence. The Squire sprang to 
 his feet and shouted, ''Unhitch those colts before you all 
 get your necks broken." But the boys just looked over 
 their shoulders and laughed — and drove away. 
 
 This was a new revelation to me of Mr. Thompson, 
 for I could never in my fancy imagine us ever ignoring 
 our father's commands. 
 
 "Humph," muttered Mr. Thompson to me. "They 
 know more than their father ever did. At least they 
 THINK they do," he added as he sat down again. 
 
 Then SQUIRE VAN DERVOORT — my uncle after 
 whom I was named and to whom I was always very de- 
 voted. And he seemed very devoted to me, too. He was 
 by nature a very social man and took lively interest in his 
 
 [ 6 ]
 
 neighbors and their welfare. A very kindly, well mean- 
 ing mean, showing somewhat his Dutch ancestory in his 
 stocky figure and wide mouth. He had long flowing 
 whiskers which he often combed with his fingers. He 
 was generous, but cautious and shrewd. 
 
 In his latter years he developed much physical dis- 
 tress, partly perhaps in his imagination, but much of it 
 very real. I am sure that a great deal of it came from his 
 violation of all the rules of hygiene. For he slept in a 
 room with the windows tightly closed. He ate heartily 
 of everything that grew. He took very little exercise. 
 Then, he lay flat on his back in bed by the hour, much of 
 the time reading the Chicago Tribune. Then, he chewed 
 fine cut incessantly. But he seemed to be what they call- 
 ed in Pinafore ''The embodiment of positive contra- 
 dictions." For he lived to well beyond eighty years and 
 his eyes were so good that near his end he could still read 
 without glasses. 
 
 He used to send for Father to come over. They were 
 devoted friends. He would begin to tell Father about 
 some alarming symptoms that had developed, and ask 
 Father's best advice. Father would listen with great 
 sympathy and then tell him that he was absolutely 
 confident that the trouble was just a trifle, that he saw 
 no cause for alarm and suggest some simple remedy. This 
 would cheer Uncle Clark up very much and soon he 
 would hop out of bed and take Father out to see a new 
 stand of bees or a new calf — his aches and pains mostly 
 
 [ 7 ]
 
 forgotten. 
 
 When Father would at last come home Mother 
 would exclaim, "Archie, where have you been?" 
 
 **0h," Father would reply with a shrug, 'The Squire 
 sent for me to come over and see him die again." 
 
 SQUIRE HOUSER was a character, too. He lived on 
 what was called **Whig Row," because there were so 
 many of that political faith along the highway. A port- 
 ly, florid man, very friendly — if you did not rub the fur 
 the wrong way. We called him mostly ''Uncle Dock," al- 
 though he was neither our uncle, nor a doctor. And 
 some of the bold ones called him "Old Dock." Behind 
 his back, you may be sure. 
 
 "UNCLE" JOHNNIE RUST was also a vital man- 
 reddish as to hair, plump as to figure, round as to face. 
 His favorite expression when he began a sentence was 
 "Why, sir." 
 
 One tim.e, Mr. Rust hired a chap who had just come 
 from Scotland to work on the farm. So the first thing Mr. 
 Rust said was, "Come on boys. We will gather a load of 
 corn." When they got to the fi.eld the new hand sprang 
 out of the wagon and the first thing they knew, he was 
 pulling off the tassels as fast as he could and throwing 
 them into the wagon bed. He knew of no corn excepting 
 wheat and oats and he naturally supposed that gathering 
 corn meant collecting the heads. 
 
 [ 8 ]
 
 WILLIAM KARR, always called '^Billie" was a char- 
 acter, too — a strong, vigorous, aggressive man. He was 
 a cattle raiser and farmer — prouder perhaps of his farm 
 than he was of his boys. His method of arguing was to 
 make his statement, with much emphasis. Then before 
 the other man could reply he would begin to laugh and he 
 could and did **beller," as we called it, so long and so loud 
 that the other man could not reply at all. 
 
 Finally, comes SQUIRE STEWART— Father. But 
 his old title of Doctor clung to him and he was not called 
 **Squire very often. 
 
 Father always had a great pride in his neighbor- 
 • hood and he conceived the ambition of going through his 
 entire term without ever having a law suit brought before 
 him — just to show what an orderly, peaceful neighbor- 
 hood he lived in. 
 
 But, one day Charlie Taylor came over from Lytle- 
 ville to say that a man had sued him for five dollars. 
 After some discussion Father said, ''Now, Charlie, you 
 are a pretty good sort of fellow. Supposing I just lend 
 you five dollars and you go and pay that claim off. Then 
 you can pay me later." 
 
 So Charlie took the five dollars and he paid the man 
 off, but he failed to pay Father back the money. So it 
 looked like Father's only law suit would be one of suing 
 Charlie himself, instead of the other man doing it, much 
 to Mother's indignation. 
 
 [ 9 ]
 
 LYTLEVILLE 
 
 ''Look at my boots, Father," said I one morning to 
 Father. We had a custom, when our boots got wet to filll 
 them full of oats and leave them over night, on the 
 theory that oats would dry them out. But my boots had 
 a big hole in the bottom of the sole and when I picked 
 them up the oats all ran out on the floor through the 
 hole. 
 
 ''Well, well, little boy," said Father. "I am afraid 
 you will have to get them half soled. After breakfast 
 you get up Ole Rock and go over to Mr. Daniels in Lytle- 
 ville and get them half soled. Here is fifty cents. Don't 
 lose it and don't pay him till the work is done and don't 
 dally on the way. And get a sack of corn and take it 
 along and get Mr. Marker to grind it for you, and stop 
 at Squire Stringfield's and take back his spade and don't 
 forget to thank him and you might pick up a few hazel- 
 nuts and bring them back and hurry for I want you to 
 help pick up potatoes." 
 
 My Father, I thought, had a real genius for keeping 
 a boy busy. So after breakfast away I went, sitting up 
 on top of a big sack of corn laid across Ole Rock's broad 
 back. Finley Daniels at Lytleville was a cripple who 
 pegged shoes. After leaving the corn at Marker's mill 
 on the banks of Kickapoo I went into his little slab 
 sided shop. 
 
 "Well, son, what do you want?" he shouted as soon 
 as I got in. 
 
 "Father said to get these boots half soled," I replied. 
 
 "Weil," retorted Finley. "If you sell half, what will 
 
 [ 10 ]
 
 you do with the other half?" This was one of his pet 
 jokes. 'Take them off, son, and let's see them." 
 
 So, there I sat for an hour while he pegged away 
 on the soles. Getting weary waiting I ventured to walk 
 in my stocking feet over to Tant Mason's blacksmith shop. 
 
 Tant Mason was the village blacksmith. 'The mus- 
 cles of his brawny arms were hard as iron bands." He 
 was a great pot bellied, stocky man, with nerves of steel 
 and a tongue of brass. He had been a soldier in the 
 Civil War. Just before he left to go, he said to a neigh- 
 bor, ''Well, I got my wife a cow and some chickens and a 
 ham. So if she can't get along, why she will just have 
 to flicker." I believe she did not flicker, for she raised 
 a pretty good family. 
 
 In the wagon shop in a shed next door, I heard some 
 voices and looked in. There were about a dozen big 
 black-bearded giants. I think they were just overgrown 
 boys. Some of them were barefoot and all were playing 
 marbles on the dirt floor. 
 
 Ah : Those Lytlevillains as we often called them. 
 Most of them had come from the mountains of Kentucky 
 and Tennessee. They lived partly by trapping and fish- 
 ing and hunting. But when they really had to have some 
 money they came out on the prairie and worked a spell. 
 
 As I looked down the main street I could see three 
 church spires, for the village boasted three different 
 denominations at that time — Methodist, Campbellites and 
 the United Brethren. 
 
 And they were as a rule devout people too. The old 
 time revivals were very popular — when folks really got 
 
 [ 11 ]
 
 religion — when people were swept into the Kingdom by 
 fervent preaching and exhortation and enthusiastic sing- 
 ing. I remember one song that had such a swing to it 
 that you could hardly keep still : 
 
 ''Religion is the best of all, 
 Religion is the best of all, 
 Religion is the best of all, 
 I feel it in my soul. 
 
 Come along stranger. Don't you want to go 
 To join that blessed company that's gone on 
 before?" 
 
 Then, come along brother, then father — till they had 
 invited about the whole congregation. I suspect that the 
 song was of negro origin and before had been pronounced 
 "befo." It had a sort of umpah — umpah lilt that was 
 very attractive. Most of the converts, however, were sin- 
 cere and they really were changed in their lives and 
 habits. 
 
 I could see three houses that had been painted: Mr. 
 Marker, the miller's; Mr. Mason, the blacksmith's, and 
 John Ball, the grocer's. The rest were mostly what we 
 called slab houses and some of them had only dirt floors. 
 
 Marker's mill was a great rambling shack, three 
 stories high in the grist mill part. The saw mill was open 
 on the sides and down below was the big ramshackle 
 engine. Jim Marker, stoop shouldered and leisurely, ran 
 the saw, while Josh Scarboro kept the engine running 
 with slabs and sawdust. Jim would set the saw and 
 swedge off a big slab of bark. Then he would carry it 
 over to the opening and shout, ''Look out below" and 
 
 [ 12 ]
 
 let it drop. If Josh did not look out, he got a bump from 
 the board, for Jim never looked to see where it was going. 
 The slabs would pile up till they sometimes nearly buried 
 the engine. Why the thing did not catch fire was a 
 mystery. However, it never did. But the mill and the 
 blacksmith shop and the churches have all disappeared 
 long since and Lytleville remains truly a ghost town. 
 Only the school house and a few houses remain. 
 
 Some of the natives came over and ''borried" five 
 dollars from Father, which they seldom paid back. 
 Mother, remembering the many places she could have 
 used the m^oney, used to wax very indignant at Father 
 for being so easy. But he just laughed and said that was 
 the cheapest way to dispose of them. He had them all 
 staved off at five dollars a head. 
 
 Our boots (not shoes) in those days had lugs on the 
 sides to help pull them on. In the morning there was a 
 great deal of noise in the house as we tugged at the 
 straps and finally had to kick them against the base- 
 board to force our feet into them. Even at that we never 
 had corns, nor tender feet. 
 
 They had many quaint expressions. I remember 
 a lady named Bibey. She came over to take dinner with 
 Mother. When Mother had poured the coffee, she ex- 
 claimed, ''Oh, Mrs. Bibey. I am so sorry, but I put sugar 
 in your coffee and I believe that you don't care for it." 
 
 '*No odds; no odds," replied Mrs. Bibey heartily. '*I 
 can eat it either way." 
 
 I have heard of ''eating tobacco" but never before 
 heard of "eating coffee." 
 
 [ 13 ]
 
 GOING TO TOWN 
 
 Bloomington was to us *'town" and going to town 
 was a great event in our lives, especially if we were going 
 on the train in the morning. I would be so excited that I 
 simply could not swallow my breakfast. 
 
 At noon we sometimes went into Brown & Gray's 
 grocery and indulged in cheese and crackers. We re- 
 garded cheese and crackers as about as delectable food 
 as any one could possibly want. Then we sometimes went 
 to Gerken's bakery and got cakes. My! How good they 
 tasted. 
 
 Bruce and I used to drive to town with a cord of 
 wood. We stood on the street until some one came and 
 bought it from us. We did not exactly sell it. They 
 bought it. We got five dollars a cord for split hickory 
 and some less for poorer wood. We were, I suppose, as 
 honest as any farmers (and they claim great credit for 
 their honesty), but we always put the round sticks in the 
 middle where they could not be seen. And we always 
 put the split side of a stick on the outside. That was noth- 
 ing; everybody did that. 
 
 Then we peddled apples for years. We rode up and 
 down the streets shouting, '^Appuls; appuls; nice eating 
 appuls," with the best of hucksters. The old Dutch wives 
 used to come out and climb up on the wagon step and ask 
 all in one word, ''Howmuchcostapeck?" If it was a over 
 a dime they did not buy. Maiden blushes, strawberry, 
 russett, pearmain, rambo, willowtwig, ^5heepnos^ (a 
 curious apple with a ridge near the stem), Jonathan — we 
 raised them all. 
 
 [14]
 
 There was a doctor named Crist on East Washington 
 street. He had a little shack with a square boarded up 
 front to make it look like a store. He practiced medicine- 
 some but he also sold drugs. One day a man who was; 
 very hard of hearing came in and laid down a prescrip- 
 tion. The doctor filled it and the man asked, **How 
 much?" 
 
 "Fifty cents," shouted the doctor. 
 
 The man misundeirstood and laid down fifteen 
 cents and started out. 
 
 *'Hey," shouted the doctor, "I said fifty cents." 
 
 But the man did not hear and went on down the 
 street. But the doctor turned to a bystander and said 
 with a good natured grin, **Well, I made ten cents clear 
 anyway." 
 
 Mother asked the doctor once upon a time how long 
 it would take to cure a cold. He replied prom^^tly, ''Three 
 weeks if you doctor with me, but twenty-one days if you 
 don't." She didn't. 
 
 My earliest recollection is when I was just a liltle 
 over two years. I can remember distinctly when Mother 
 took me to Uncle Robert's funeral. It was up at *'The 
 Brick." I can recall the big southeast room and the coffin 
 sitting on two trestles in the middle of the room. They 
 had set out chairs along the wall and laid planks on them 
 and put a quilt over them for folks to sit on. I can see 
 the women, some of them with heavy dark veils. And 
 they were crying, which puzzled me very much. I can 
 also recall very clearly that Mother took me over and 
 
 [ 15 ]
 
 lifted me up to look into the casket. It had a lid of glass 
 extending down to his waist and I wondered where his 
 feet were. 
 
 SCHOOL 
 
 However, starting to school v/as one of our first big 
 events. I remember when I was about six, that Bruce 
 took rne and I gazed about me and several times asked 
 him questions ''out loud" much to his embarrassment. 
 
 I seem to remember the games that we played more 
 clearly than what we studied. But we did study some, 
 too. The games were black man, shinney, Andy over, 
 town ball, and fox and geese when it snowed. Most of 
 these games seemed to require a great deal of yelling and 
 we entered into them with a zest sldom equalled since. 
 
 One teacher had a rule that we could come up to the 
 desk and get him to pronounce hard words for us. I pre- 
 sume I was feeling restless, for I had paraded up several 
 times and was getting short of words. But finally I 
 thought I had found a new problem. So I held up my 
 hand and went up to the teacher — Davidson. I pointed 
 to the word IT. He glanced at me sharply and asked, 
 ''Don't you know how to pronounce that word?" I shook 
 my head. "How do you think it should be pronounced," 
 he asked. 
 
 I replied, "don't know if it is "it" or "ut." 
 
 The teacher glared at me. "Didn't you just come up 
 here for an excuse to be walking?" he roared. I dumbly 
 
 [ 16 ]
 
 nodded my head. ''Well," said he. 'Then you can just 
 walk up and down that aisle until recess." Which I 
 humbly did. 
 
 We had some nick names. Mine was "Bubble'^ 
 till I was past ten. Dell was "Susie." Bruce was 
 "Lengthy," and Hugh was "Uncle Phillip" — so named by 
 Seth Noble for some fancied resemblance to a man in our 
 reader. In fact, Lucy still calls him "Phil" at times. Mary 
 Stewart was "Sissie." Sherman Brown was called "Mon- 
 key." I never knew exactly why. 
 
 Then there was a quaint boy named Dick Lucas. He 
 lisped a little. One day they were down at the creek and 
 Dick saw a board. Said he, "Here is a board. Let's 
 throw it in the water and see it phim." So, from that 
 time on he was "Fimmer Dick." 
 
 Charlie Spaid brought so many cat fishes for Us 
 lunch that they named him "Cattie." So he was "Cattle 
 Spaid." 
 
 There was in the neighborhood a family named 
 Walls. There was a lot of children which they brought 
 up as best they could. However the last was kind of over- 
 looked as to a name, so they just called him the little one. 
 
 When he became of age, behold he had no oflficial 
 
 name, so he just adopted his baby name and as long as 
 
 he lived he signed his name L. O. (Little One) Walls. 
 
 [ 17 ]
 
 Charlie Tory, having some English in him, called 
 Charlie Atchison ''Hatch-ison." This, Gardner Powell 
 promptly expanded into ''Hatch a chicken," and as long 
 as I knew him he was ''Hatchie" or ''Chicken." 
 
 One Friday we had a "spell down." Gardner Powell 
 was lolling comfortably back against the wall with his 
 feet pretty well out in front of him, when suddenly he 
 sat down on the floor. 
 
 "Why, Gardner, can't you stand up?" asked the 
 teacher (good Tina Myers, I believe.) 
 
 "I could," said Gardner, "but John Clemens kicked 
 my feet from under me." 
 
 John was a rather unruly boy who came ffrom 
 **town" and the directors reluctantly allowed him to come 
 to school. Like "Town Tackies" he was a little patroniz- 
 ing of us "Country Jakes." 
 
 The teacher said, "John, take your seat." 
 
 So, John, with an impudent grin on his face started 
 for his seat. But he stamped his feet just as hard as he 
 could and made all the noise possible. When the chil- 
 dren tittered, the teacher said, "John, go back and walk 
 quietly." 
 
 So, this time John walked on tiptoe, but he raised his 
 feet up in the air just as high as he could and he writhed 
 and twisted and soon the room was in a real uproar. But 
 the teacher took it up with the directors and they prompt- 
 ly expelled Mister John. They said that they did not pro- 
 pose to have discipline upset by an outsider. So we again 
 became, as usual, a very decorous school. 
 
 [ 18 ]
 
 CHARLIE MOORE'S BATH 
 
 We had for one term a disagreeable chap named 
 Charlie Moore. He was uncouth and untidy and stupid. 
 He lived in a shack on the banks of the creek with his 
 father. It was said that they never made up a bed, nor 
 washed a dish, nor cooked a real meal, nor did anything 
 that might be called civilized. Certainly, they never 
 took a bath, nor washed themselves or their clothes. 
 
 He sat just in front of Dick Karr, and when the room 
 began to warm up — why he really smelled. When I say 
 smelled, I mean just that, for none of us were very 
 ''finicky." We were not much given to real baths our- 
 selves, especially ''in the winter time," as the Jew put it. 
 Dick stood it for a while, but finally he said to Moore, 
 "More, if you intend to stay in this school, you must 
 wash yourself." Of course Moore did not do it. So, the 
 next day Dick said to him, "Moore, if you don't wash 
 yourself tonight I am going to run you off the place." 
 
 Next day Charlie came and had apparently done 
 what he thought was a wash, for he had a clean space on 
 his neck just above the collar. But he exuded odor, just 
 as bad as ever. This did not suit Dick, so he gave Charlie 
 some more definite instructions as to what a bath consist- 
 ed of and he added a lot more threats as to what he would 
 do if Charlie did not do it. 
 
 But next day Charlie showed no improvement. 
 
 So at recess Dick said to him, "Moore, you know 
 what I told you. Now I am going to give you a real scrub- 
 bing." So, he went calmly and got a big bucket. Then 
 he walked over to the pump and, followed by all the 
 
 [ 19 ]
 
 boys, he pumped it full of water. Charlie was standing 
 aside, looking pretty uneasy. 
 
 Then Dick swished the broom around in the bucket 
 and, whirling suddenly he roared: "Now, darn you, 
 GIT," and he made a rush for Charlie. 
 
 Charlie gave one startled glance and away he went 
 just like a deer. I am prepared to swear that he cleared 
 a five board fence without touching it and down through 
 the woods he ran like a wild man. Dick was just behind 
 him with the broom upraised and all of us tagging along 
 behind, yelling like Indians. The last we saw of Charlie 
 was when he disappeared over the bluff at the creek, still 
 going like a whirlwind. So we all came back triumphant 
 and Dick was a hero for a time. But Charlie never show- 
 ed his face again in the school, much to our relief. 
 
 We had many good and capable teachers, but one 
 stands out in my memory beyond all the others: Tina 
 Hadley, afterwards Mrs. John Myers. She brought with 
 her teaching a kind of motherly interest in all her pupils. 
 She never had any trouble maintaining discipline. We 
 all adored her and all she had to do was to express a wish 
 and we were glad to do her bidding. She was wise, 
 patient, sympathetic and enthusiastic. Peace to her 
 memory. 
 
 Another teacher who made a lasting impression on 
 me and had much to do with the shaping of my life was 
 Brent Hollopeter who came from Indiana. He just 
 radiated enthusiasm and energy. He was apparently as 
 
 [ 20 ]
 
 interested in each one of us as if we had been his own 
 children. He inspired us to do our utmost. He even got 
 up classes in botany and chemistry. He was also a 
 natural born actor. So under his tutelage we got up a 
 dramatic company and we even stormed Heyworth and 
 gave a show — three sketches, in all of which he was 
 naturally the star, and a good one. After he left us he 
 entered the ministry and became one of the most import- 
 ant Methodists in Indiana. He was a remarkable man 
 in every respect. 
 
 MR. BENTLEY'S BATH 
 
 Once upon a time, my Aunt Lizzie came to spend the 
 day and she brought John, who was just beginning to 
 creep around. We had a kind of boarder a Mr. Bentley, 
 an Irishman who had been a tailor. He had a little money 
 and he just saddled himself onto our folks. But he fitted 
 in pretty well with the family, so they just let him stay 
 on. His pet aversion was Louis Eyatica, our hired man — 
 a German who had been in the Prussian army. 
 
 Louis was a hard boiled man, but a good worker. 
 Father had always had one pet ambition — that was to 
 have his boys learn to speak German. So Louis was 
 partly engaged to work and partly to teach us to speak 
 German. I think Mr. Bentley and Louis were just a little 
 jealous of each other. 
 
 One time Mr. Bentley hurt his nose in some way. 
 When Louis came into the room he looked at Mr. Bentley 
 and said, *'Vy by golly Mr. Pentley, how did you come to 
 
 [ 21 ]
 
 make your nose to peautiful?" 
 
 Mr. Bentley glared at him and replied: ''Och; How 
 do you suppose? I fell down and stepped on it." 
 
 I was Louis' pet aversion for I did not take kindly 
 to the German language, while Bruce seemed to learn it 
 very easily. Louis called me ''Dot Bobe," meaning 
 "Bubby." 
 
 One day I asked him how to say ''What is that and 
 what is this" in German. He blurted out what sounded 
 to me like "Tosh tosh und tosh tish." "Vas iss das and 
 vas iss diss." So, for several days I went around saying 
 "Tosh tosh and tosh tish." When Bruce heard me and 
 found out what I was trying to say, his sarcasm knew no 
 bounds, and I did not hear the last of it for some days. He 
 "razzed" me, as we say nowdays, most unmercifully. 
 
 Well, to resume. Aunt Lizzie and Mother went into 
 the front room while John crawled around here and 
 there. 
 
 Out in the kitchen was a pantry and in the pantry 
 there was a cistern witha trap just big enough for a man 
 to get down into the cistern. As the two women chatted. 
 Aunt Lizzie suddenly sprang to her feet. "Where is 
 John !" she exclaimed. They both rushed into the kitchen 
 and seeing the trap open they peered down into the cis- 
 tern and to their utter horror they saw John, partly sub- 
 merged but partly afloat, held up by his clothes. They 
 both began to scream and Mr. Bentley, who happened to 
 be out in the yard, ran in and on learning what had hap- 
 pened, he just jumped right into the cistern, clothes^ 
 
 [ 22 ]
 
 boots and all. A very corageous thing to do I think. The 
 water came up to his waist and was pretty cold. But he 
 gathered John up and by reaching down they managed 
 to get him out. 
 
 Aunt Lizzie immediately ran with John into the 
 front room to see if he was still alive. Well, he was as 
 far as that goes. 
 
 But poor Mr. Bentley commenced to shout: "Fer the 
 Lard's sake, git me out of this." 
 
 Mother ran out to the woodshed and found a cleat 
 ladder. That is, it was a narrow plank with cleats nailed 
 across every so often. But when she brought it into the 
 house, she found that some of the cleats were too long to 
 go through the trap. So she had to run back to the shed 
 and find a saw and saw some of them off before she could 
 let it down. So the poor man was thoroughly chilled be- 
 fore he got out from his lifesaving expedition. But they 
 wrapped him up in warm blankets and gave him a hot 
 toddy and neither he nor John seemed a bit worse for 
 their very thrilling experience. But after that Mr. Bent- 
 ley was welcome as long as he wanted to stay. 
 
 [ 23 ]
 
 A NEAR TRAGEDY 
 
 One afternoon I was working around in the yard at 
 home when I heard violent screaming down over the brow 
 of the hill at the Branch. Mother, Dell, Lucy and the 
 hired girl had gone to town in the spring wagon. They 
 had for a team Charlie, a quiet flee bitten gray, and *'01d 
 Net." I suppose she was christened Nettie. ''Old Net" 
 was a red mare, blind as a bat and sometimes balky. But 
 she was strong and healthy and we sometimes got a good 
 deal of work out of her. 
 
 It seems as they were coming down the hill west of 
 the Branch that the hold backs were very poor. In fact, 
 I doubt if there were any, for we often failed to put them 
 on and just let the horses pull back in their collars 
 ("Stewart fashion" some folks said). So, when Dell, 
 who was driving, tried to hold the team back. Net got to 
 bulging sidewise. By the time they got to the bridge, 
 she was clear out of the track. The bridge was about 
 four feet above the water and very loosely constructed. 
 It had no railing. 
 
 When Net got to the bridge, in spite of Dell's des- 
 perate tugging at the bit, she blundered onto the bridge 
 with two of her side feet striking the planks, but the 
 other two were just out in the air. So she plunged head- 
 long right into the water and mud. 
 
 But Lady Luck seemed to have favored them for the 
 heavy breaststrap just happened to slip between the 
 heavy planks and the neckyoke rammed into the wood 
 and thus kept the tongue and whole spring wagon from 
 
 [ 24 ]
 
 following her into the stream. 
 
 I ran just as fast as I could. 
 
 When I got there, Dell was standing at Charlie's 
 head, holding onto his bit, and saying '*Ho Charlie. Ho, 
 Charlie." Charlie was dancing up and down pretty 
 nervous, but he could not have run if he had tried. 
 
 Mother and the girls were still sitting in their seats, 
 apparently paralyzed with fear, just screaming. Net was 
 lying on her back in the mud with her head held up by 
 the breaststrap and collar, wheezing like a porpoise and 
 nearly choking to death. 
 
 As soon as I got there I hustled the women out of the 
 wagon. Then I unhooked Charlie. Then by some hard 
 kicking I managed to kick the neck yoke oved to the ends 
 of the planks and *'01e Net" fell back into the mud with 
 a great splash and with some guidance she managed to 
 find her way to the bank, all of a tremble and covered 
 with mud, but really unhurt. 
 
 Neither were the girls hurt at all. So we again 
 hitched up and got in and drove home just as if nothing 
 much had happened. In fact, I think we took it all as 
 only part of the ordinary day's work. 
 
 [ 25 ]
 
 A REAL TRAGEDY 
 
 It was a pleasant Sunday noon and we had just 
 finished our dinner and were sitting at the table, chatting. 
 Father stuck his long legs out and fished out his goose 
 quill toothpick and leaned back and waxed sentimental. 
 ''What a beautiful world we live in" quoth he. *'How 
 peaceful it is; how much brotherly kindness we see all 
 round us. What a pleasant neighborhood we live in!" 
 
 "Listen," shouted Bruce, "What was that?" For, 
 just then we heard a horse's feet thundering over the 
 creek bridge and up the hill we saw a hatless boy, lar- 
 ruping his horse, which was all lathered with foam. The 
 boy turned out to be George Stringfield. He was so 
 excited he could harldy speak. But he shouted, "Doctor 
 Stewart, Doctor Stewart! Come quick! Come quick! 
 
 "Where?" asked Father. 
 
 "Over to Mr. Mason's," replied George. "Lee Smith 
 has just shot Mr. Mason and we are afraid he will die. 
 Take my horse and go at once." 
 
 "No," replied Father. "Your horse is clear winded. 
 Bruce, go and hitch up Daisy and we will be over there 
 quicker than you could realize." Daisy was our swift 
 footed gray mare. She had a little racing blood in her 
 and she could cover the ground. So, while Father gather- 
 ed his surgical instruments together, Bruce was hitching 
 up Daisy. Father had about quit practicing, but he still 
 had his instruments — beautiful morocco cases all full of 
 shining probes and lancets. 
 
 So they were soon on their way, while we waited in 
 
 [ 26 ]
 
 breathless suspense to hear what had happened at Mr. 
 Mason's. 
 
 It seems that Lee (who was something of a weakling 
 and sometimes got drunk) had been working for Mr. 
 Mason (or the squire as we mostly called him) and had 
 taken a fancy to one of the girls and tried to make up 
 with her. But she did not like him one bit and she finally 
 went to her father and complained about his trying to 
 get familiar. 
 
 So, Mr. Mason in his grim way paid Lee off and told 
 him to get off the place and never set foot on it again. 
 
 This was a great offense in Lee's eyes for he had been 
 a soldier and he regarded himself as good as anybody. 
 So, he brooded over it for a few days. Then he went to 
 town and got drunk and bought himself a pistol. Next 
 day at Sparta Church where they had all gone, Mr. 
 Mason was just coming out after the services. Lee, in the 
 meantime, had been lurking around outside and when 
 Mr. Mason appeared in the doorway, Lee banged away, 
 right for Mr. Mason's heart. Fortunately, just as he fired 
 Mr. Mason was turning. So the bullet, instead of reach- 
 ing his heart, went into his left shoulder. 
 
 When they got there they found Mr. Mason lying on 
 a couch, pretty bloody, but perfectly calm and quiet. 
 
 Bruce said that he never before realized what a 
 muscular man Mr. Mason was. He said that his back 
 just literally rippled with muscles. 
 
 Father fumbled around awhile and finally said, 
 ''Squire, that bullet went nearly through your shoulder. 
 I can feel it from the back. It will hurt like the dickens 
 
 [ 27 ]
 
 to probe, so I suggest that I just cut down into your back 
 and take it out that way." 
 
 "Go ahead," said the Squire. 
 
 Father did not have a bit of anesthetic, so he said, 
 'This is a rather unusual occasion, Squire. You are at 
 liberty to holler all you want to." 
 
 **I don't think I will holler," replied the Squire, '*but 
 I would like to have a chew of tobacco." So Bruce said, 
 he set his teeth into that and he never whimpered, nor 
 flinched while Father cut down and took the bullet out. 
 
 He recovered rapidly and was soon as vigorous as 
 ever. There was some intemperate talk about lynching 
 Lee, but what they did do was to take him to jail and he 
 was tried and sentenced to the penitentiary for eight 
 years. But Joe Fifer afterwards made a plea for him, 
 mostly because he had been a soldier, and he was finally 
 released. He went back to his home on the banks of the 
 Kickapoo and so far I know never drank any more, and 
 finally died of old age. 
 
 A VALUABLE SON 
 
 There used to be a family named Blue. They lived 
 *'up the creek a piece." They were a sort of rough and 
 tumble family. 
 
 One day Mr. Blue went to the woods to trim up some 
 trees. His little boy was playing around, getting in the 
 way at times as little boys will do. Mr. Blue took his ax 
 and struck at an overhanging limb. But the ax glanced 
 and coming down, it struck the boy a glancing blow on 
 
 [ ^2 ]
 
 the head. It stunned him and he fell at his father's feet 
 and lay motionless. Mr. Blue believed that he had killed 
 him. 
 
 He looked at his boy for a minute. Then he spat out 
 his ''chaw," wiped his mouth and said to a neighbor in 
 all seriousness, ''By Jing; I wouldn't have did that fer 
 the best cov/ on the place." 
 
 And he meant it, too. 
 
 THEM CHINAMEN 
 
 "Clark," said Alfred Wilsher to me one day. "I 
 went to town the other day and I seen them Chinamen." 
 Alfred worked for us. He came from the "mauntins.'* 
 He could just spell a little. He used to lie on his back 
 on the work bench after dinner and whisper to himself 
 as he read the letters and tried to make them into words. 
 
 "Did you?" I replied. 
 
 "Yes," said he. "Say Clark, can they talk?" was his 
 next remark. 
 
 "Why yes. I think they can. But they don't speak 
 the same language that we do," I replied. 
 
 "Weil, I watched them for quite a spell and they 
 never said nothin'. I thought maybe they couldn't talk 
 at all," said he. 
 
 Then he worked on for a while and he asked, "Are 
 they men and women like we are?" 
 
 "Well they all had dresses on and they all had long 
 har and I lowed maybe they was only one kind." 
 
 '*No," I replied again. "They are just as human as 
 
 [ 29 ]
 
 we are." 
 
 Evidently he milled this around in his mind, for af- 
 ter awhile he suddenly asked, **How do they git hyar 
 Clark?" 
 
 ''Who?" said I. For I had forgotten what he had 
 been speaking of. 
 
 **Why them Chinamen," said he. 
 
 'They probably came over in ships," said I. 
 
 ''But," said he. "I thought that they lived daown 
 in the graound." 
 
 He had doubtless heard folks point down and say 
 that China was down that way. So he inferred that they 
 probably crawled up through holes, from down in the 
 earth. 
 
 He soon learned, for the first time, a little about 
 geography, the roundness of the earth and some rudi- 
 ments of astronomy. And he was a voter, too. 
 
 THE BEE TREE FEUD 
 
 "Hey Doc. Come out here," shouted a familiar voice 
 from the road one day. Father reluctantly pulled on his 
 boots and obediently came out. John Jones was sitting 
 on his horse calmly chewing a straw. 
 
 "Say Doc," said he again, when Father had come up 
 to him, "I was just over in the timber acrost the crick and 
 a found a big linn tree and up in the branches I found a 
 big swarm of bees. When them bees have made enough 
 honey I'll come and cut it for you. But I'll give you some 
 
 [ 30 ]
 
 of the honey," he added magnanimously. 
 
 "Thanks," said Father. Jones had a big black beard 
 and was an impressive looking man who "called" for 
 dances with great dignity at times. 
 
 Some days after this, Sam Hair came up and said. 
 "Doctor Stewart, I was roaming around down in the 
 timber and I come onto a linn tree and blame me if I 
 didn't find a big hive of bees up in a limb. Now I claim 
 that tree for mine, for I put my initials on the bark and 
 that makes it legal you know." 
 
 "Was it on my land?" asked Father. 
 
 "Why yes. But that don't make no difference you 
 know," Sam answered cheerfully. "The honey is mine 
 by the right of discovery." 
 
 Some days after that Bill Shepherd met Father and 
 said, "Doctor Stewart, I have a bee tree down in your 
 timber that I want to cut pretty soon." 
 
 "Is it a linn," asked Father. "Yep," said Shepherd. 
 
 "But," said Father, "John Jones and Sam Kair 
 both have told me that that tree belongs to them and 
 Sam says he put his initials on the bark." 
 
 "There wa'nt no initials on the bark at all when I 
 put mine on and don't you think for a minute that I pro- 
 pose to let anybody else have that honey," said Shepherd 
 with great emphasis. 
 
 This was all very disturbing to Father. But he want- 
 ed to keep peace in the neighborhood if he could. 
 
 Some day after this the three met at the Station and 
 Same challenged Jones about his claim on the tree. 
 
 "I sure claim that tree," said Jones. 
 
 [ 31 ]
 
 ''You can claim till you are blue in the face," said 
 Sam. ''But that don't give you the least right to that 
 honey. That's my honey I tell you!" 
 
 "Here, here!" interposed Shepherd. "They ain't no 
 way to settle that but the legal way and the evidence is 
 in my initials on the bark. Sam your initials were not 
 there anywheres. You ain't got no claim, nor either you 
 — John Jones." 
 
 "Well," shouted Jones, "you can say that, but I have 
 pretty good fists that are ready to back up my claim." 
 
 "Fists be blowed," retorted Sam. "You fellers can 
 fight it out if you want to. I will use my energy by going 
 over and cutting the tree and what I don't take, you can 
 liave and welcome." 
 
 "Don't let me catch you in that timber a moneyin' 
 ;with that tree. If I do, I will show whether fists are a 
 :good argument," shouted Jones. 
 
 "Well, I'll show you," shouted Shepherd. 
 
 "And ril show you both, cried Sam. 
 
 Then they all began talking at once, till some of the 
 neighbors interposed and got them to go home. But each 
 was vowing to beat the others to it and cut the tree first. 
 
 When this report reached Father he got desperate. 
 
 "Little Woman," said he to Mother. (His favorite 
 name for her was Little Woman). "I don't know what to 
 do. Hadn't I better just go and cut the tree myself, even 
 if I have to divide the honey with the three?" 
 
 "Now Archie," replied Mother calmly, "You must 
 not do that. They will think you have taken advantage 
 and might claim that you got more than your share." 
 
 [ 32 ]
 
 ''But," said Father, ''that is my tree and that is 
 my honey. There isn't any law about bee trees." 
 
 "That may be true," said Mother. "But you know 
 how much worked up they all are. You will come in for 
 their lasting ill will if you do." 
 
 "Dear. Dear. Dear!" cried Father. "What shall I do?" 
 
 "Don't do anything," replied Mother. 
 
 But that very afternoon there came up a big thunder 
 gust. The thunder roared and the lightning flashed and 
 the wind blew in great gusts. After a big flash of light- 
 ning they heard a tree fall over across the creek. So, at 
 the risk of getting wet, they hurried over. When they 
 came in sight Hugh shouted, "Why Father, that is the 
 big linn.'* 
 
 "Law; law," said Father. "Let's get the honey be- 
 fore it all runs away. Then we can settle some way with 
 the claimers." 
 
 But when they got up to the big limb, they found it 
 split open and they eagerly looked all about for honey. 
 But there did not seem to be any. 
 
 "Where is the honey?" cried Hugh. 
 
 "Yes, and where are the bees?" cried Father. 
 
 "Look! Look!" shouted Father. "What are those 
 things crawling all about?" 
 
 "Why, they are black ants," said Hugh. 
 
 Father broke into a great laugh. "Well, well," said 
 
 he, "Three very good friends quarreling about who gets 
 
 a colony of black ants, and us getting all wrought up 
 
 over who owned them." 
 
 "Well Old Lady Nature had beat them to it and 
 
 [ 33 ]
 
 solved the problem. 
 
 ''Let's go back home and we will do without honey 
 and put syrup on our buckwheat cakes for a while, said 
 Father. 
 
 CHANGING THE RAILROAD STATION 
 Randolph was first called Cob Pile and it was located 
 two miles north of its present site, at the township line. It 
 consisted of a short board platform and a switch. Before 
 that it had been called Fielder's Crossing, while the next 
 road was called Karr's Crossing. Then came Houser's 
 Crossing, and finally Passwater's Crossing. 
 
 But at Karr's Crossing some time before there was a 
 post office established under the name of Randolph. Tom 
 Noble was the first postmaster. He had his office over on 
 Whig Row and for some time it was located in the smoke 
 house. 
 
 The enterprising neighbors finally cajoled the Illi- 
 nois Central to move the site down to Karr's Crossing. 
 This they agreed to do, providing the neighbors would 
 build the levee to put the switch on. I remember that 
 Bruce, with a lot of other boys, worked many days haul- 
 ing dirt. Then the company sent a big flat car and they 
 just hoisted the station house (which had been built) 
 bodily and set it onto the car. It must have been quite a 
 feat as the house was at least eighteen feet wide. But 
 they hauled it down to its new site and set it on wooden 
 posts as easy as you could imagine. 
 
 Soon after that Captain Dill came from Heyworth 
 and built the first (and only) grocery store. It was 
 
 [ 34 ]
 
 boarded up and down and perhaps pretty crude. But it 
 was a store and we were thrilled very much to see it come 
 into the neighborhood. 
 
 When Jim Elder lived in it, the building caught fire 
 and burned up and Mr. Elder built the present building. 
 
 A short time ago, Dr. VanDervoort of Los Angeles, just 
 for a joke addressed a letter to Hugh A. Stewart, Cob 
 Pile, Illinois and the letter was promptly sent to Ran- 
 dolph although that name had been obsolete for seventy 
 years, they still had kept the nam.e on their files. 
 
 'Randolph Is The Place' 
 
 [ 35 ]
 
 We had a male quartet once on a time too. We had 
 a song we sang about Randolph on a few occasions, with 
 great success in Randolph. It was not quite so popular 
 in Heyworth or Lytleville. It was a parody on *'The Bull 
 Dog on the Bank." (The reference in the third verse was 
 that Henry Spaid was digging a well at Randolph and 
 Mr. Houser came along and not seeing the hole stumbled 
 right into it. Poor Henry was stooping down and Mr. 
 Houser landed a straddle of his neck, nearly suffocating 
 him. Fortunately, neither was much hurt) . 
 
 Down in Randolph you will find 
 Ladies fair and men refined. 
 For Randolph sets the place 
 And Randolph sets the pace. 
 R-A-N-D-0-L-P-H— 
 Randolph is the place. 
 
 In the city at the train 
 
 They can tell a Heyworth man. 
 
 If he's too drunk to know 
 
 To know where he wants to go, 
 
 They know he's a Heyworth man. 
 
 Mister Houser on the bank, 
 
 Henry Spaid down in the welL 
 
 So far he dropped 
 
 Before he stopped, 
 
 He thought he was in — China. 
 
 [ 36 ]
 
 Down in Lytleville they say 
 That to pass the time away, 
 
 They sleep all night, 
 'Til broad daylight 
 And then — they sleep all day. 
 
 For Randolph is the place 
 And Randolph sets the pace. 
 R— A— N— D— O— L— P— H- 
 RANDOLPH IS THE PLACE. 
 
 A CLOSE SQUEAK 
 
 One day Father and Hugh drove a fractious team of 
 colts over to Randolph. We usually called it The Station. 
 Hugh was sitting up on the high seat on the front of the 
 wagon bed with his feet on the dash board. Father had 
 gone into the store. Suddenly an engine blew off steam. 
 This startled the colts and before Hugh could gather up 
 the lines they made a rush down along the right of way. 
 Hugh hastily gathered up the lines, but he could not hold 
 them and away they went, helter skelter. 
 
 However, the tugs were much too long (Stewart 
 fashion) and in one of their frantic leaps, they jerked the 
 neckyoke off the end of the tongue. The tongue dropped 
 down and ran into the soft dirt and that brought the team 
 up standing in no time. But Hugh, when the jerk came, 
 pitched forward head first, turned a somersault right 
 down between those restless, excited horses' legs and 
 
 [ 37 ]
 
 landed flat on his back right under one of their bellies. 
 
 Father, hearing the commotion, ran outside and see- 
 ing Hugh, lying under the team shouted, **Get out of 
 there ! Get out of there !" 
 
 '1 can't," said Hugh. 
 
 ''Why not?" cried Father. 
 
 ''Because the horse is standing on my overcoat 
 collar," replied Hugh. 
 
 "Well, can't you crawl out of your coat?" anxiously 
 said Father. 
 
 And acting on the suggestion Hugh did just that. 
 He wriggled out of his coat and got to his feet just before 
 the horse began to prance up and down and trampled all 
 over that coat which was still lying under him. 
 
 '*A close squeak" was Father's only comment. 
 
 A COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Our father was a doctor. But we were something 
 like the proverbial shoemaker's children. We never 
 went to him for splinters or cuts. We just pulled them 
 out and tied up the cuts. 
 
 One summer I got what we called a stone bruise on 
 my heel. It developed into a running sore. Finally a 
 yellow spot appeared in my heel. So I went and got 
 Fathers lancet and cut down and got out quite a bit of 
 matter. A week later I found another one and opened 
 that. Meanwhile walking on my toes day by day. This 
 kept on for several weeks. But finally dried up. Then 
 
 [ S8 ]
 
 it began to turn white and finally got lose and after a 
 time I got it off and there was a piece of hide, over an 
 inch square and in it were eight holes, where I had lanced 
 it. I carried it around in my pocket for a while, proudly 
 showing it to the boys. 
 
 Father did not practice medicine very long after he 
 left the army. He got into politics and was elected to 
 the State Legislature. So by the time his term expired, 
 he quit the profession and only did a little now and then 
 to help out his neighbors. I do not think he ever really 
 liked the profession. I have a notion, that he held it in 
 some contempt. Certainly he held in contempt some 
 of its disciples. After hearing of some case of flagrant 
 cupidity, or stupidity, or ignorance, he would say to us 
 confidentially "My sons. There never was but one really 
 honest doctor and he quit practicing right after the war." 
 
 One time a neighbor sent for him to come over near 
 Lytleville to see his son. The boy was pretty sick and 
 they feared it was scarlet fever. Sure enough, when 
 Father got there and looked him over, he had a high 
 fever and was all speckled over with red spots. So, Father 
 was just about to pronounce it scarlet fever and quaran- 
 tine the family and fumigate, when a neighbor woman 
 came in. She walked up to the bed and she looked at the 
 boy and she said calmly, ''Mercy me. Doctor Stewart, did 
 you ever see a worse case of bold hives?" 
 
 Father caught himself just in time and he hastily 
 ran over in his memory his medical teachings: BOLD 
 
 [ 39 ]
 
 HIVES ; symptoms much like scarlet fever, but not con- 
 tagious and not dangerous." So he gravely replied, *'Yes, 
 Mrs. Rutledge, I was just noticing." 
 
 So Father ''saved his face" and the boy got well 
 pretty much of his own accord. 
 
 Down on the banks of Little Kickapoo lived a family 
 named Rippito. The man was a fair average, but the 
 woman was a real termagant — arrogant, loud-mouthed 
 and quarrelsome. One day she got pretty sick and they 
 sent for Father. When he got there he found her in a 
 good deal of pain, so he gave her a dose of chloroform. 
 Pretty soon, when she felt herself sinking, she exclaimed, 
 ''I'm a dyin' ; I'm dyin' ; and I v/ant you to all bear wit- 
 ness that Doctor Stewart killed me." 
 
 Father said that he laughed about it afterwards, but 
 he did not laugh then. For the family all began to cry 
 and they locked the door and told Father in no uncertain 
 term what they would do to him if she did die. He put 
 as calm and confident a face on it as he could and after 
 while she did revive. But he said that her whole at- 
 titude, instead of being that of gratitude, seemed to be 
 one of disappointment, because she not been able to 
 get Father into trouble. 
 
 One time. Father was sent for to come and see a lit- 
 tle boy named Guy, who had a hacking cough. He was 
 his mothers only son and I presume was pretty much 
 coddled. So they gave him some soothing sirup which 
 had sugar in it and was pretty palatable. 
 
 [ 40 ]
 
 In a few days the anxious mother again sent for 
 Father and the cough seemed no better, but Guy was 
 taking regularly the soothing sirup. A third time they 
 sent for Father. Father sized the situation up pretty 
 keenly and finally said very gravely ''Well ; there is only 
 one thing left for us to do. I hate like everything to have 
 to do it, but can see no other remedy. Take this poker 
 and put it down in the coals and keep it red hot. Then 
 the next time he coughs you will just have to take it and 
 bore a hole right down through his foot." 
 
 Guy looked very startled, as Father gravely and 
 impressively stalked out. But it proved a good remedy. 
 Guy never coughed again. 
 
 I also had an interesting tooth experience. 
 
 When I was a boy I had a bad toothache. I remem- 
 ber that Father, who was running for the Legislature was 
 in a hurry to catch a train. He looked at the tooth and 
 exclaimed, "My! My! That tooth is nothing but a shell. 
 I guess I may as well just pull it at once." 
 
 So he took me into the bedroom and sat me down in 
 the best light he could get and shoved my head back and 
 grabbed the tooth with his big forceps. However, just as 
 he caught hold I jerked my head sidewise, and he got a 
 grip on the next one — a big molar. When he began to 
 pull I began to scream, you may be sure. But he hung on 
 and finally out came the tooth. 
 
 Father went to the light and looked at it. '*By 
 George," he exclaimed with dismay in his voice. 
 
 "Archie, what have you done?" cried Mother. 
 
 [ 41 ]
 
 '1 pulled the wrong tooth," said Father, sounding 
 like he wanted to cry. **I wish some one would kick me," 
 he added fervently. 
 
 I would not go so far as to say that I would have 
 done that gladly. But we went into the sitting room by 
 the big fireplace and Father just threw the tooth down in 
 the ashes. 
 
 Mother stood a minute looking thoughtful. ''Don't 
 you think it might be put back?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 ''Oh, I don't know," replied Father. "Still I have 
 heard of it being done." 
 
 "Well," said Mother, "why not try it?" 
 
 So, I remember they got down on their knees and 
 raked it out of the ashes and he pushed it back, firmly in 
 the still bleeding gums, and finally it grew firm and for 
 years it was my best biting tooth. 
 
 THE ABDUCTION OF JESSIE 
 
 We had a neighbor — I will call him Mr. Neighbor — 
 a worthy citizen. He came from Kentucky, I believe, 
 with his wife. In the course of time four sons were born, 
 but no daughter. So, when the boys were getting into 
 their adolescence, they cast around to find a girl to adopt. 
 They finally found a likely one in Heyworth. Her name 
 was Louise Varney. Her father had been a painter, I 
 believe, but he was dead. She was about eight years old 
 at that time. So, they legally adopted her and named 
 her Jessie. She seemed to fit into the family and the 
 neighborhood pretty well. She went to school and to 
 
 [ 42 ]
 
 Sunday School and took part in the activities of the 
 neighborhood and was a good average girl. 
 
 But the Neighbors were hard working, provident 
 people and they lived as most folks did at that time in a 
 rather primitive fashion and they saved and denied 
 themselves. Mrs. Neighbor always seemed to me to be 
 a very kindly disposed woman. But she was very 
 energetic. They said that her favorite expression was, 
 ''Make haste! Make haste!" 
 
 I believe that Mr. Neighbor whipped Jessie once or 
 twice. Possibly she deserved it. Anyway, she got dis- 
 contented and believed that she was discriminated 
 against. So, after some years she went and complained 
 to her sister and brother-in-law, Sam Thomas. They 
 lived over in the next township. When he heard her 
 story, he got very much wrought up over it. He was a 
 good citizen, too, but very strong in his likes and dislikes. 
 Perhaps a trifle bumptious. 
 
 ' So, one Sunday he took his wife and drove over to 
 
 Neighbors. I believe they stayed for dinner. But after 
 dinner, when they got ready to leave they asked Jessie if 
 she would like to ride along a little way. Whether she had 
 any idea of their plan I do not know, but when they got 
 out of sight of the house, they just kept on driving. They 
 went on to their home in the next township and they kept 
 her there. 
 
 In a few days Mr. Neighbor drove up and went to the 
 house and knocked. When they opened the door, he said, 
 '1 came to get my girl and I want to know why you took 
 her." 
 
 i 43]
 
 Mr. Thomas replied, "We took her because you were 
 not treating her right and she is not going back." 
 
 '*We will see about that," said Mr. Neighbor. 
 
 So he went and put his case in Joe Fifer's hands. Mr. 
 Fifer summonsed Mr. Thomas and he went in and he de- 
 fied Mr. Fifer and the Court, too, and again asserted that 
 she was not going back, as he intended to keep her. So, 
 Mr. Fifer swore out a warrant for Thomas' arrest on the 
 charge of abduction. 
 
 Abe Welsh happened to be at the house when the 
 deputy came with the warrant. 
 
 Said Abe Welsh, in recounting the incident: ''The 
 deppity he come up and he says, 'I summons you Samuel 
 Thomas to appear before the Court of McLean County 
 and show cause why you should not be arrested for the 
 abduction of one certain Jessie Neighbor, daughter of 
 one certain Michel Neighbor, of the County of McLean 
 and the State of Illinois.' 
 
 ''Well — Thomas he just rared up and said he would- 
 n't do no such thing. But I says, 'Sam, don't be a blame 
 fool. This is the LAW. You can't defy the law.' But 
 Sam he commenced to argue some more. Finally the 
 deppity says, 'Thomas, I have heard about all I care to 
 hear from you. You just have to come along.' 
 
 "So Sam he says, 'All right, Mr. Deppity. Go back 
 to town and tell the judge that I will be in directly.' 
 
 " 'No,' says the deppity, 'you can't do that. My duty 
 is to take you back with me myself.' But Sam he argued 
 some more, till finally the deppity says, 'Mr. Thomas, if 
 you don't get into that buggy right away, blow me if I 
 
 [44]
 
 don't knock you down and put the hand cuffs on you and 
 take you by force.' 
 
 **Then I spoke up again and I says, *Sam, don't be a 
 blame (only Mr. Welsh used a stronger word) fool. If 
 you don't get into that rig right away blow me if I don't 
 help him do it.' 
 
 *' 'Will you go on my bond?' asked Sam. 
 
 " 'Yes,' I says, 'I'll do that' ." 
 
 So they took Thomas to town and he was let out on 
 bond. When the case came to trial before Judge Tipton, 
 they had a jury. During the trial, my sister Dell was 
 called to testify. The attorney asked Dell if she ever 
 knew of Jessie being whipped. 
 
 Dell replied, "Well, I have been whipped myself." 
 
 "Didn't it do you some harm?" asked the attorney. 
 
 "Anyway," said Dell, "It didn't stunt my growth." 
 This caused a titter in the court room. 
 
 At the noon recess, Mr. Neighbor asked the judge 
 if he might take Jessie to dinner with him. "Certainly 
 you can replied the judge. But when he took Jessie by 
 the arm, Thomas grabbed the other one and refused to 
 let go. Mr. Neighbor rushed to Fifer. Fifer went to the 
 judge and told him what had happened and said, "Didn't 
 you say that Mr. Neighbor could take Jessie to dinner?" 
 
 "Certainly I did," replied the judge. 
 
 But when they went back and told Thomas what the 
 
 judge had said, he still refused to let her go. So Fifer 
 
 ran after the judge, who was just leaving the building. 
 
 The judge went up to Thomas and said pretty sternly, 
 
 "Thomas, if you don't let go of that girl's arm this minute, 
 
 [45 1
 
 I'll lock you up for contempt of Court." 
 
 And Abe Welsh said to him, **Sam, I hope to the Lord 
 that he does lock you up, you blame fool." 
 
 So the case finally went to the jury and in spite of 
 Thomas' attorney's pleas, they gave him a year in the 
 penitentiary, I believe, and a thousand dollar fine. 
 Afterwards, however, they asked for a new trial and I 
 believe that the penitentiary part was cancelled. 
 
 So, at last Jessie went back to her adopted parents 
 and lived with them until she was eighteen and left 
 them — I believe with fairly pleasant relations for the re- 
 mainder of her stay. 
 
 1^1
 
 Drinking was very common in those days — same a& 
 it seems to be now. 
 
 We had a neighbor, Mart B. He was a good citizen 
 and meant well and raised a good family. But in the 
 course of time he got to drinking. He went from bad to 
 ivorse and finally they had to get a conservator appointed 
 for him. George Freeman was chosen to handle his 
 business for him and keep him from squandering it. So, 
 Mr. Freeman took him in his buggy and they went to 
 town and got the matters all settled. 
 
 On the way home, Mart got to lamenting: ''Look at 
 me," he cried ; '*A man of affairs — a tax payer — a 
 father of a family — obliged to look to a stranger for even 
 the price of a drink — I am a failure — I am a disgrace — 
 I just wish I was dead, so I do: Yes, by gosh, if I had a 
 knife, blow me if I wouldn't kill myself right now." 
 
 Mr. Freeman did not say a word. But he reached 
 into his pocket and pulled out a great knife (we called 
 them frog stickers) and he opened the big blade and 
 calmly handed it to Mart. Mart took it. Hefted it and 
 sat looking at it quite a while. But finally he handed it 
 back remarking. ''That is a right hefty knife you got 
 there, George." 
 
 Freeman had bluffed him and settled his desire to 
 kill himself. 
 
 One night, away after midnight, Nick Brandicon, my 
 brother-in-law, heard a voice out in the road calling, 
 "Hey there; Hey there!" 
 
 Nick raised the window and asked what was wanted. 
 
 [ 47 ]
 
 A rather thick voice, which he recognized as the 
 voice of Clem P. replied. *'Clemmie" was in the habit of 
 going to town and getting pretty ''pickled" once in a 
 while. He said ''Would you please be so kind as to direct 
 me to Randolph Township." 
 
 "Why," shouted Nick, "Mr. P., you are right in the 
 center of it." 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. P. "I 'lowed that I was lost 
 and that if I could just get to Randolph Township my 
 horse might find his way home. Thankee. Thankee." 
 And he rode off to near Lytleville where he lived. 
 
 Jack Savary was a man who lived in the neighbor- 
 hood for years. He was a quiet, well spoken man. He 
 had been a school teacher, I believe, once in his life. He 
 also played the fiddle very well and played often for the 
 country dances. Clyde Myers and I used to "chord" for 
 him on the guitar. We did not play the guitar. We 
 chorded. I can see him, in my mind yet as he sat 
 "scrooged" down in his chair, his fiddle resting pretty 
 much in the crook of his arm as he scraped away with all 
 his might. When it came to a change in key, he would 
 turn his bright twinkling eyes in our direction and shout 
 C or D or G, so we could keep with him in the same key. 
 
 But he had a curious habit of going on a spree once 
 in a while. Sometimes they were a year apart. 
 
 I remember once, when I had asked Nute Bishop to 
 take me home from Bloomington in the afternoon. Nute 
 replied, "Certainly, but I want to pick up Jack Savary 
 first." 
 
 [ 48 ]
 
 Jack had been working for Nute, but he quit right 
 in the middle of the harvest, because that urge had got- 
 ten him and he had gone to town to go on a spree. 
 
 We found him in a saloon on South Main Street — 
 quiet, good natured. I could hardly realize that he was 
 drunk. Nute scolded and coaxed and finally Jack reluct- 
 antly got in the buggy with us and we started down Main 
 Street. But when we got across the tracks and were go- 
 ing up the hill. Jack suddenly shouted, **Whoa! Whoa!" 
 
 ''What is the matter. Jack?" asked Nute. 
 
 Jack replied, "Let me out. Let me out. Blank! 
 Blank! I am going back." 
 
 "What for?" asked Nute. 
 
 "Well, I ain't just got my drunk out yet," replied 
 Jack and in spite of Nute's begging him to go home, he 
 replied "I wouldn't be worth a cuss to you any how, so I 
 am going back." 
 
 And back he went to finish his spree, much to Nute's 
 disgust. • 
 
 UP AT THE BRICK 
 
 Just before Uncle Robert died he built a house on 
 his farm. It was a stately building, red brick, nearly 
 three stories high, with long sloping roofs and a serrated 
 edged face board. It stood on a hill looking down the 
 valley, but was much isolated away over near the creek 
 and surrounded by timber. 
 
 Down in the cellar was a well — right in the middle 
 of the house. We used to go down into that dark damp 
 
 [ 49 ]
 
 room and let the bucket down and get a drink. But I 
 was always a little bit frightened when the bucket splash- 
 ed away down in the bottom and came up dripping and 
 we had to feel our way to find the door. 
 
 Many memories cluster around the place, for we 
 were all cousins and grew up together. There was many 
 a social party, and some old fashioned square dances 
 where they put the string band in the center of the house 
 and had three *'sets," one in each of the large rooms, all 
 going at once. 
 
 "Bee" was a natural born fiddler and a good one. 
 John fiddled some too. 
 
 We were sometimes allowed to go up and stay all 
 night. Once on a time, when Jim Creswell was courting 
 Lizzie Rowland, Dell went to stay all night with Mary. I 
 do not know just w^hat made it necessary, but Aunt Lizzie 
 put Dell in the northwest room to sleep by herself. Jim 
 had been sleeping there sometimes and Aunt Lizzie put 
 a note on the door, telling him to sleep somewhere else. 
 But, unfortunately Jim, being perhaps pretty sleepy, 
 failed to see the note. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast Aunt Lizzie asked Jim 
 if he saw the note she had left him. 
 
 **What note," asked Jim, looking surprised. 
 
 ''Good land," shouted Aunt Lizzie. ''James Cres- 
 well, where did you sleep last night?" 
 
 "In the northwest room," replied Jim. "Why do you 
 ask?" 
 
 "Didn't you know that Dell was sleeping in that 
 
 [ 50 ]
 
 room?" Aunt Lizzie shouted. 
 
 ''Well, by George," said Jim looking very much sur- 
 prised. "I wondered what Ed was doing with a ribbon 
 in his hair." 
 
 My Mother had a ''way" with her. She was very 
 sympathetic and took a vital interest in the welfare of 
 other people. Folks just naturally confided in her, feel- 
 ing perhaps that even if they had done wrong that they 
 would find in Mother a charitable construction put on 
 their misdeeds. She seemed absolutely unselfish and she 
 always put everybody else's burdens before her own. She 
 was not especially religious, but she was a consistent 
 m_ember of the Presbyterian Church at Heyworth and she 
 went whenever it was possible. On Sunday mornings she 
 used to always read some in the Bible. I can see her now, 
 as she went about her work, reading some — then laying 
 the book down — then picking it up and reading again. 
 
 She was the originator of some rather clever adages 
 (original as far as I know) . One was, after she had read 
 in the Old Testament about some of those old worthies 
 (and unworthies) with their vicious and bloody deeds, 
 she would say, "Well, human nature hasn't changed any 
 in two thousand years." Which, in spite of some optimistic 
 well wishers, I am inclined to think is absolutely true. 
 
 Another remark she was fond of making was, when 
 she came home from church she would say, "Well the 
 preacher left the subject — right where he found it." Then 
 she would add, "They insist on our coming to Church and 
 after we get there— WHAT DO THEY GIVE US? Mostly 
 
 [ 51 ] 
 
 U. OF ILL LIB.
 
 platitudes and pleas for money." 
 
 Sometimes after she had heard or read some frothy, 
 intemperate comments about religion she would say, 
 *'Truly, some of the Bible's worst enemies are its defend- 
 ers." 
 
 Grandmother, Father's mother, was a fine type of 
 the sturdy Scotch. She really was very well informed and 
 read a great deal. And like people of her kind she re- 
 membered. 
 
 We had a teacher named Johnson who boarded with 
 us one year. It was his first school and he was right out of 
 Normal, full of ideas about imparting knowledge to the 
 benighted. One evening Grandmother asked him what 
 he was reading. 
 
 He replied rather kindly, ''This is a book called 
 Shakespeare. Perhaps you never heard of him, but he 
 was one of the great writers. I will read you some of it. 
 It is a drama called King Lear." After he had read a 
 couple of pages with suitable voice inflections and hand 
 waving, he paused and said, ''That is the general trend of 
 it. Do you like it?" 
 
 Grandmother, without a smile, took up the theme 
 from where he had stopped and proceeded to quote from 
 memory a couple more pages, taking it up right where he 
 had left off. Then she quietly remarked, "Yes, I have 
 heard of him and I like it." 
 
 [ 52 ]
 
 BRIDGET 
 
 Bridget was a "character." She sometimes came 
 over and did days' work for ''Aunt Emmie" as she called 
 Mother. Energetic, enthusiastic, garrulous and nervous, 
 her high strident voice filled the house from morning un- 
 til evening as she regaled us with tales, mostly about her 
 neighbors. 
 
 Once she came over telling about two "min" who 
 had come over to her house from a home where they were 
 boarding. They said that their landlord was drunk and 
 fighting with his wife and they asked that she would take 
 them in for a time. Said she, ''Them min come into my 
 parlor and they lit their pipes and they histed their feet 
 onto the table and they looked at each other and said, 
 'Thank God : this Heaven and not Hell' ." 
 
 She came one day full of enthusiasm about the 
 beautiful "posies" that grew all along the railroad track. 
 "Oh, Aunt Emmie, you should see thim. They are the 
 purtiest flowers, all yellow and green and so thick all 
 along." 
 
 Mother made several guesses as to what they might 
 be. 
 
 But Bridget said, "Niver mind. Aunt Emmie. Nixt 
 time I come, sure I'll bring you a bouquet of thim for you 
 and you can see for yourself and put them in the parlor." 
 
 So, in a few days, sure enough, here came Bridget 
 with a big paper full of something. But when she opened 
 them Mother exclaimed, "Why Bridget, those are only 
 dog fennel. We call them weeds and they smell bad and 
 our back yard is full of them right now." 
 
 [ 53 ]
 
 So poor Bridget was much crestfallen at the recep- 
 tion of her posies and we joked her for some time about 
 them. 
 
 Another time she told about the **purtiest" cat that 
 had been killed by the train. '*It was just lyin' there, so 
 still that I thought it was just asleep. But whin I poked it 
 with my foot it smelled. Oh, it just smelled like burnt 
 flannen." 
 
 Mother asked a little more as to its looks and she 
 said, **It didn't exactly look like a cat and it had two 
 stripes running along its back." A skunk undoubtedly. 
 
 She told Mother with much enthusiasm about her 
 trying to buy some **caliker" from Mr. Plumley who had 
 a dry goods store in Heyworth. She wanted to get a 
 bargain, so when he showed her some she exclaimed, 
 ** Ah ; Yis, Mr. Plumley. You are too high on that. Sure 
 Mrs. Doctor Stewart told me that she bought that same 
 kind for a cint less." 
 
 *'But Bridget," Mother expostulated, **I never bought 
 any calico like that at a reduction." 
 
 *'0h ; Yis, I know," said Bridget, ''but I just tuck off a 
 cint." 
 
 [ 54 ]
 
 WESLEY CHAPEL 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL 
 
 The Sunday School was a big event in our youthful 
 lives — over at Wesley Chapel on Whig Row. It was a 
 union church for a long time and was paid for by Meth- 
 odists, Campbellites and Unitarians mostly. 
 
 Father was my first superintendent. He was a good 
 one. I can remember him as he strode up and down the 
 aisle leading the singing with great enthusiasm, nodding 
 his head, slapping one hand into the palm of the other 
 and saying, "Sing boys, sing." 
 
 He was not considered any too orthodox in those 
 days and some of the good sisters raised their eyebrows 
 and asked what the world was coming to when they had 
 to have Doctor Stewart for a superintendent. But as time 
 has wrought changes in the view of what does constitute 
 Christianity, I am sure that he would be counted as a very 
 
 [ 55 ]
 
 devout man. 
 
 John Crookshank was for a long time our faithful 
 superintendent. He had a theory that he must be pre- 
 pared to answer any theological question, no matter how 
 complex, at once. Otherwise, he seemed to think that he 
 was not up to his duty and not defending the scriptures. 
 So, he was in hot water many times when Seth Noble or 
 Charlie Stewart sprang some of their catch questions on 
 him. 
 
 When John came of age he was much interested in 
 his first vote. On election day he made up his ticket, 
 folded it neatly and put it in his pocket and went to Hey- 
 worth to vote. Before he voted, however, he went to 
 "Doc Mack" and got some dovers powders, which were 
 much used in those days. The doctor folded them into a 
 neat roll, too. Then John went and voted. But when he 
 got home he found he still had the ballot. Evidently his 
 first vote was dovers powders. 
 
 One of our members was Dave Hartsen, who came 
 from out of the prairie. He liked to hear himself argue 
 and was always butting in more or less. One time John 
 was expounding the lesson with a good deal of enthus- 
 iasm, when Dave tried to interrupt him. ''Mister Supe — " 
 he cried. But that was as far as he got John kept right 
 on. He tried again and shouted, "Mister Supe — " But 
 John kept on expounding. A third time he tried, "Mister 
 Supe — Mister Supe — ," But he could not head John off. 
 After that we always called Dave Hartsen "Mister Supe.'* 
 
 "Dock" Houser taught the men's class, over in the 
 
 [ 56 ]
 
 "Amen corner." All Methodist Churches had what thejr 
 called the ''amen corner." It was up in front and the 
 good sisters who shouted ''Amen" usually sat there. They 
 did not study the real lesson very much, but put in most 
 of the time arguing doctrine. John was a good Meth- 
 odist. Mr. Powell and Will Misner were Campbellites, 
 while Tom Noble, Harvey Rust and Father were classed 
 as Unitarians. Seth Noble and Charlie Stewart were Free 
 Thinkers. That is, they scoffed at every kind of religion. 
 
 Louder and louder would their voices boom out, over 
 some deep theological questions: f orordination ; infant 
 damnation ; immersion essential to salvation ; literal hell ; 
 infallability of the Scriptures. These were the principal 
 subjects they clashed over. "Uncle Dock" would stand 
 over them, chuckling, nodding his head or shaking it say- 
 ing, "Oh, no; oh, no! That isn't the meaning at all." 
 John used to have to go over and "shush" them many 
 times, in order that the other teachers could make them- 
 selves heard at all. 
 
 Charlie Stewart usually got the best of the argu- 
 ments, for after he had shouted out his assertions and 
 claims, he wound up by laughing so loud and so long that 
 the other men couldn't get in a word edgewise. 
 
 So, our Sunday School was never dull. But I believe 
 it did a great good in the neighborhood. For in spite of 
 the arguments, disputes and heresies that were thrown 
 out, we learned quite a lot of the great truths of the Bible. 
 And I have noticed in all cases, it has always held its own. 
 
 [ 57 ]
 
 CEMETERIES 
 
 Randolph has three cemeteries outside of Heyworth. 
 There are a few groups of graves here and there at other 
 places where they had buried some of their dead, but 
 these are pretty much abandoned. However, Shiloh, the 
 Passwater cemetery and the Stewart cemetery have been 
 kept up and in them lie many of the pioneers. Governor 
 Moore lies in the Passwater Cemetery with a very nice 
 monument to his memory. 
 
 I have been told that the Stewart cemetery was first 
 used to bury a man who was struck by lightning, but 
 where he lies, no one seems to know. My brother and 1 
 were grubbing around some years ago and the rake 
 caught on something hard and we pulled up out of the 
 heavy grass a flat tombstone. It was to the memory of a 
 niece of Gardner Randolph with no date. The curious 
 fact was that it had lain there for almost a century and 
 no one ever knew of it before. For we have no recol- 
 lection of seeing it until then. It had apparently been 
 upset and had been walked over and moved over and 
 utterly unknown throughout the long years. It is now 
 again erected and in good condition. 
 
 Occasionally when I was very young, a few wander- 
 ing Indians came by — possibly the remains of the once 
 powerful Kickapoos. They camped over in a boggy place 
 in Stringfield's pasture. They must have been a pretty 
 crude bunch, for the neighbors said that when they got 
 a chicken, they just pulled off the feathers and threw it 
 into the pot as it was and ate it bodily. So when they 
 
 [ 58 ]
 
 were done there were only a few bones left. 
 
 Two of their women came over to our house and sat 
 by the fireplace, with heavy shawls over their heads and 
 they hunched over and kept their heads close together. 
 Mother said that their black eyes would dart here and 
 there looking for something that they might want. 
 
 Then one of them began a kind of sing song, *'If you 
 please Lady Mam, would you please be so kind as to give 
 us the loan of a little coffee." Getting that, they would 
 confer and again gaze around and again in a soft, insin- 
 uating voice begin again, 'Tf you please. Lady Mam, 
 would you please be so kind as to give us the loan of a 
 little sugar." They finally went away, but they had sadly 
 depleted Mother's larder first. 
 
 While they were camped there a baby got sick and 
 what with bad diet and what with poor care, it died. 
 Some of the men came to Father and asked permission to 
 bury it in the Graveyard, as we called it always. 
 
 Permission being given, they brought it over and 
 buried it in the northwest corner. How much ceremony 
 they may have had I do not know, but presume, like in 
 the burial of Sir John Moore, 'Tew and short were the 
 prayers they said." However, the next year they re- 
 turned and the women went and drove down stakes and 
 strung a lot of black beads in long festoons across the 
 grave. These remained for several years, but the decora- 
 tions and the Indians and the grave itself are pretty 
 much forgotten. 
 
 [ 59 ]
 
 THE BIG ELM TREE 
 
 Out in our back yard stood for years about the finest 
 elm tree I ever saw. When it was at its best it had a 
 spread of just one hundred and ten feet and it was per- 
 fectly symmetrical. Like a giant mushroom. When it was 
 much smaller about sixty years ago I climbed up to the 
 crotch where four big limbs sprang out about twelve feet 
 from the ground. I had an old cast iron pot lid and I 
 chucked it down between the four limbs planning to use 
 that for a foot rest and to build a summer house over it. 
 However, the house was never finished, but the pot lid 
 stayed there. 
 
 My brother told me that twenty years after as the 
 tree grew, he could see the pot lid pretty well buried in 
 the enfolding limbs. About twenty years ago a big sleet 
 tore out two of the big limbs. Each as big as a big tree. 
 
 Then, a big wind storm took out another, until final- 
 ly the last one gave way and only the old stump, 
 twelve feet high remained. The stump was still five feet 
 through. But it was rotten and so he set it on fire. It 
 burned for over a month, from the top down. One day 
 he went to look at it and there was that pot lid lying down 
 in the ashes. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow tells about an arrow in the heart of 
 an oak, but I never heard of a pot lid in the heart of an 
 elm before. 
 
 [ 60 ]
 
 THE MOWING MACHINE THAT GOT UP 
 IN THE WORLD 
 
 The shades of night had fallen fast, when thru the 
 Town of Randolph passed three sturdy boys — Tom, Dick 
 and Harry — and some say, also Tom and Jerry. And 
 what is this they drag and carry? A ladder long, a rope 
 and pulley — with these strange things were loaded fully. 
 The stars gleamed in the frosty air and Randolph's Hills 
 were bleak and bare, for Halloween was passed away, 
 but not its spirit I must say. 
 
 For, with more energy, these lads did harder tasks 
 than their own dads could ever get, in hoeing weeds, or 
 chopping wood, or planting seeds. 
 
 Along the right of way they pass down thru a pas- 
 ture rank with grass. ■ The poles and singing wires they 
 hear and pressing close a listening ear, they hear the 
 humming song and cry ''The telegrams are passing by." 
 
 A giant cottonwood raised high it's gleaming arms 
 against the sky. But what is this? At last they see a 
 costly mower 'neath the tree. For, Farmer John some- 
 times forgot to keep his mower on the lot and sometimes 
 ran the boys away, when all they did was stop and play. 
 
 ''What's this," cried Tom and Dick together. "A fine 
 machine out in this weather." 
 
 I hear that thieves are active now," said Harry, with 
 an anxious brow, "We ought to raise it from the mire and 
 save it safe from thieves and fire." 
 
 And so, they heaved and tugged amain, with rope 
 and pulley hard they strain. Until, at last that mower 
 hung far up the tree and there it swung like some strange 
 
 [ 61 ]
 
 pendulum at last, for many days tied hard and fast. 
 
 The boys content hied home to bed. They never 
 heard of Boy Scout creed, but still among themselves they 
 said, ''Today, we did a kindly deed.'* 
 
 But Farmer John was not so glad and neighbors 
 titters made him mad, as with kind words, but twinkling 
 eye, they talked of mowers getting high. So, when the 
 paper with keen wit, said Farmer John would have to 
 quit his farming job — the reason why — mowing machines 
 had gone so high. Then he WAS wroth and entered suit 
 for damage, trespassing to boot. Malicious mischief, dam- 
 age heavy was what he sought to prove and levy. So, 
 deputies were soon about to seek the guilty culprits out. 
 But they laid low — Tom, Dick and Harry — until at last 
 they scared poor Jerry with visions of the County Jail ; 
 at last his nerve and courage fail and so, the Don John's 
 keep to shun it, he went and told the Judge ''who done it.'* 
 
 "A trial," cried the quizzing neighbors, and so they 
 stopped their other labors and hurried over to Squire Van 
 and there the law suit soon began. The lawyers pled and 
 soon they fix upon a jury — only six tried men and true 
 — to fix the charge for the offense according to the evi- 
 dence. Squire Van looked wise, but soon looked grave; 
 the evidence that each one gave was so conflicting on 
 each side; until at last one juror cried, "Let's go and 
 look ourselves and see the damage done to land and tree.'* 
 
 So, witnesses and Squire and jury, hied out across 
 the field like fury. But, when they came up, all agree, 
 there was no mower in the tree. But, sitting in its proper 
 place, the mower sat unhurt; no trace of rope; no scar 
 
 [ 62 ]
 
 on tree or land it's face to mar. 
 
 The explanation simple quite. The boys had gone 
 that very night and and evened up a troubling score by 
 taking down that pesky mower. Then long and loud the 
 neighbors laughed and Farmer John they quizzed and 
 chaffed. Till, finally, in some distress he murmured 
 'That is all, I guess." 
 
 No less a judge because he stood beneath a giant 
 Cottonwood. ''No, not quite all," the Squire replied, "until 
 the costs are satisfied. These costs are yours and you 
 must pay, before this court adjourns this day." 
 
 So, Farmer John, with gleaming cash, was made to 
 pay for lawsuit rash. 
 
 But, after that the neighbor folks disturbed him with 
 their jibes and jokes. Until at last, the folks relate, he 
 sold his place and left the state. 
 
 So, all the boys made glad and merry. Tom, Dick 
 and Harry — also Jerry. 
 
 [ 63 ]
 
 HOW I GOT MY START 
 BY C. N. VanDervoort 
 
 When I was a boy, we lived on a road that ran down 
 a few miles to where there was a tavern, run by a man 
 called Big Bill. It was a rough place and my father told 
 us boys that if he ever heard of us going down there 
 he would give us a licking we would not soon forget. But 
 my brother Jeff was a venturesome boy and he kept 
 suggesting that we just hide by and see what was going 
 on. He argued that Father had not said we could not 
 ride by. 
 
 One day we heard that there was to be a horse race 
 and this excited me very much. So, yielding to the 
 temptation I slipped out to the barn and strapped a piece 
 of carpet on Old Nell and started to the cross road store. 
 I was barefooted and had on an old linen duster and an 
 old straw hat and my pants were rolled up to my knees. 
 
 When I got to the store I found a lot of men drinking, 
 fighting and cursing. Big Bill handed out whiskey in tin 
 cups and carried a big hickory cane which he used at 
 times on the head of some obstreperous customer. I sat 
 on Old Nell some distance away, being afraid to venture 
 too close. Five men, all strangers, rode their horses into 
 the group and each proclaimed loudly that his horse could 
 out run any horse in the county. 
 
 Big Bill took charge and it was soon arranged that 
 each horse owner should put up two dollars, making a 
 purse of ten dollars. They at once got into an argument 
 as to who should hold the stakes. They all agreed that 
 they would not trust Big Bill and commenced looking 
 
 [ 64 ]
 
 around for some one to hold the stakes. 
 
 One of the men spied me, sitting on Old Nell, and 
 said, ''Give it to the boy on the gray mare. He looks 
 honest and is not drunk." So, before I could get my wits 
 together Old Nell was led to one side and a mark drawn 
 across the road and I was handed the money and told 
 to give it to the first one who crossed the line. The money, 
 mostly silver, was placed in my outside duster pocket. 
 I was scared stiff, but afraid to make any protest. 
 
 The five horseman rode off up the road to a big tree 
 just a mile away. Big Bill came out with a big shotgun 
 which he loaded with a double charge, and the men were 
 told to start when he fired the gun. They rode away and 
 the road was filled with cursing, yelling, drunken men 
 making bets and fighting. 
 
 The men reached the big tree and lined up. Big Bill 
 stood with his shot gun just back of me and when he 
 thought they were ready he let loose with both barrels 
 of the over-loaded gun. Old Nell gave a snort and one 
 leap into the middle of the road. She took the bit in her 
 teeth and with head and tail up started down the road 
 on a dead run for home. I held onto her mane for dear 
 life and let the reins lay on her neck. The stable door 
 was low and she scraped me off as she rushed into her 
 stall. I rolled off onto a manure pile and lay there trem- 
 bling with fear. Finally, finding myself not hurt I com- 
 menced feeling around and came across that money still 
 in the pocket of my linen duster. Then I WAS scared. 
 But I hunted up a tin can and climbed up in the haymow 
 and hid the money on a rafter. My father had trained 
 
 [ 65 ]
 
 us to be strictly honest, but what was I to do? I had no 
 idea who the men were and they themselves had said 
 they would not trust Big Bill. Neither could I return the 
 money to those men. They were entire strangers. 
 
 Most of all I feared Father's big hickory stick, and 
 I certainly could not go to him for advice. If ever a boy 
 had a problem I was that boy and I could not sleep well 
 for some time. 
 
 However, after a while a neighbor asked me to do 
 some work for him and after it was done, he told me 
 that he could not pay me in cash, but if I could find ten 
 dollars he would let me have a nice sow and a litter of 
 pigs. So, not knowing any better solution I went and got 
 the money out of the can and gave it to him. However, 
 I afterwards sold the pigs at a good profit and got others, 
 and that is how I got my start in life. 
 
 [ 66 ]
 
 THE TALLOW HOUND 
 
 When Uncle Jeff first got married, he went out on 
 the prairie on a farm with his new wife, Sarah. He called 
 her Sallie. 
 
 One day in the fall he said to her, ^'Sallie, I guess I 
 will call in a neighbor and butcher that fat heifer. Then 
 we will have our winter supply of meat and we can get 
 enough tallow for you to make up your winter supply 
 of candles." 
 
 So he called in the neighbor and they butchered the 
 heifer and after getting the beef disposed of, he took a 
 lot of the tallow and piled it up on the back porch and 
 asked the neighbor in to dinner. 
 
 After dinner, when he came out on the porch, he 
 was much disturbed to see his big lean hound dog just 
 lapping up the last of the tallow and licking his lips, 
 while his sides stuck out like he had swallowed a balloon. 
 
 Uncle Jeff did not hestitate a minute. He just rushed 
 into the house, grabbed his rifle and ran out of doors. 
 Pretty soon he came back into the house. *'Sallie," he 
 said, "your tallow is still on the back porch and I think 
 you can still make your winter's supply of candles. But 
 that dog has disappeared." 
 
 [67 ]
 
 A STRANGE INTERLUDE 
 
 In my Uncle Clark's family ran a strain of m.ysticism. 
 Some of the children at time were somewhat psychic. 
 
 Sitting at Uncle Clark's feet one pleasant afternoon 
 he paused in his talk for a moment and then said : **Clark 
 I want to tell you an event that happened to me when I 
 was a boy ; a strange experience and one that I will never 
 forget. *'We lived on a small farm which Father had 
 bought and partly paid for. But, it seems that there was 
 a mortgage of some size comnng due very soon. I knew 
 that the folks were very much worried about something 
 but had no idea what it was. But we children all sensed 
 that there was some kind of a cloud hanging over us. 
 
 **My brother, Wilson, was a sensitive child and slept 
 in a trundle bed which was pushed under my father's and 
 mother's bed during the day time. About midnight my 
 brother Wilson woke me up, crying. He whispered to me 
 that grandfather Ruland had been talking to him about 
 some money. I told him he must be dreaming and to go 
 back to sleep. 
 
 ''About five o'clock he woke me up again and said 
 grandfather had returned again and that I must get up 
 and do as he said. So we slipped out of bed and went 
 into the kitchen and dressed by the fireplace. Wilson said 
 that Grandfather told him there was some money in a 
 box under the last step of the stairway in the closet 
 back of father's bed and he wanted us to get it and give 
 it to my mother. Wilson commenced to cry and said he 
 was scared, I lighted a candle and we crept into the 
 
 [ 68 ]
 
 closet without waking father or mother. After turning 
 things upside down and moving some boxes stored there, 
 we found a loose board in front of the first step. We re- 
 moved it and in the far corner I found a wooden box. it 
 was quite heavy. Wilson was holding the candle and he 
 commenced to cry. I thought he was going to faint. He 
 wanted to give it up, but I told him we must do just as 
 Grandfather told us to do. I took the box and we slipped 
 into the kitchen. I soon had a good fire and started 
 breakfast. I called father and he said it was too early 
 for breakfast. I told him I had a reason and wanted 
 mother to have her breakfast with us as soon as possible. 
 She said she did not think she was able to sit up but we 
 carried her out to the table. We put her in a rocking 
 chair and had our humble breakfast. She said she must 
 go back to bed, but I told her to wait a few minutes as 
 we had a surprise for her. 
 
 ''Wilson and I went into the closet and brought out 
 the box and placed it beside her plate. We told her about 
 grandfather appearing to Wilson and telling him where 
 to find it. We opened the box and inside found two buck- 
 skin bags filled with silver money. Mother burst out cry- 
 ing and the rest of us were soon all weeping with her. 
 
 "After we quieted down father and I counted the 
 money. There was $265.00 mostly in French and British 
 coinage, in the two bags. 
 
 "That was just the amount they needed to pay off 
 
 the mortgage and with it they did pay it off and our 
 
 troubles in the matter were over." 
 
 Uncle Clark sat in silence for a moment. Then he 
 
 [ 69 ]
 
 said, ''Clark, how do you account for that? " 
 
 I pass the question over to you, dear reader. How 
 do you account for it? 
 
 THE COON SKIN 
 
 Once upon a time my brother Bruce and I found a 
 coon up in a tree over in the timber. It was after dark, 
 but we could see him and see his eyes shining. Bruce 
 got very much interested, so he said, ''Now Bubbie, you 
 stay here and watch so he don't get away while I go 
 home and get the gun and we will sell the skin and 
 divide the money." 
 
 So, I settled down to watch. But it was very dark 
 and lonesome and chilly and Bruce had trouble finding 
 his ammunition. So after waiting quite a while, I got 
 weary and sneaked off home. Later on Bruce came with 
 the gun and finally shot Mister Coon and brought him 
 home. But, oh how he heckled me for being so slack. 
 I took it pretty meekly and finally we got our skin all 
 ready for the market. 
 
 "Now,'' said Bruce, "you really are not entitled to 
 anything, but how much do you want for your share?" 
 
 "Well," said I humbly, "is fifty cents too much for 
 my share?" 
 
 Oh, I suppose I will have to give you that," grum- 
 bled Bruce. So he gave me fifty cents for my share. 
 
 But when he took his skin to town, the market 
 seemed to have dropped on coon skins and all he got for 
 the whole thing was just a quarter. 
 
 [ 70 ]
 
 THE MAN WHO BEAT UP HIS WIFE 
 
 A very pleasant man came from the south with his 
 young bride and settled out on the prairie. He was friend- 
 ly and neighborly and pleasant and the neighbors were 
 glad to have them come. 
 
 But, after awhile rumors came to them that Uncle 
 Harry was abusing his wife. This the neighbors did not 
 like and they discussed more than once going to him and 
 telling him that that sort of thing could not be tolerated 
 in this neighborhood. 
 
 Finally, the hired hand reported a very flagrant 
 piece . of whipping. So, three of his neighbors elected 
 themselves a committee to remonstrate with him. When 
 they knocked, he met them most graciously and was very 
 voluable and friendly. Finally one of the men interrupted 
 him to say: ''Mister J. Rumors have come to us about the 
 treatment that you have been giving your wife. How 
 about it?" 
 
 ''Me," cried Uncle Harry. "Why gentlemen, there is 
 nothing to that. I am a good citizen. I work hard and 
 pay my debts. Why, I contribute to the work of the Lord. 
 Oh no, gentlemen; you must be mistaken." 
 
 "How about that time the other morning when the 
 hand says you whipped her?" asked one of the men. 
 
 "That; oh that," said Uncle Harry, casually. 'Oh, 
 that was nothing. You see, gentlemen," he continued 
 pleasantly. "I got up and made the fire and called my 
 wife to get up and get breakfast while I did the chores. 
 But when I came in all sharp set for breakfast, she was 
 still in bed." 
 
 [ 71 ]
 
 *'But what did you do then?" asked one of the 
 committee. 
 
 "Why, not much. You see gentlemen, I love my wife. 
 I would not abuse her at all.'' 
 
 "But what did you do?" persisted the man. 
 
 "Oh, all I did was jist to kitch her by the hair and 
 jerked her out of bed and kicked her a few times. But 
 that was just sort of funnin' like. Why, no gentlemen, 
 I love my wife. If I did not, I might have been a little 
 rough with her." 
 
 THE BOUQUET CLUB 
 
 Some of our young folks developed a strong literary 
 turn in school. So, one summer, Bruce put in a lot of 
 time planning a literary society. Several years before 
 that we had had one at the school. We named it the Star 
 Club, because the members all had to wear stars while in 
 session. Win Smith was the teacher, I believe. The 
 committee had gone to town and had a tinner cut out 
 about a hundred tin stars and the first and by far the 
 liveliest part of the session was getting our stars put on, 
 amid a lot of confusion and noise. Then at the close we 
 had to turn them in. We did have some recitations and 
 dialogs and debates also. 
 
 "Resolved that there is more happiness in pursuit 
 than in possession." 
 
 "Resolved that pride and ambition cause more 
 
 [ 72 ]
 
 misery than ignorance and superstition." 
 
 ''Resolved that capital punishment should be abolish- 
 ed." 
 
 Woman's Suffrage — Tariff — even Prohibition — were 
 vociferously advocated and condemned. 
 
 Bruce conceived the idea that we should say 'To be 
 resolved" and then after the judge's decision we would 
 know which was. Then Bruce had a habit of calling his 
 opponents "My unworthy Opponents," to show his dis- 
 dain. But Father talked him out of both of those ideas. 
 The Bouquet Club was to wear bouquets instead of 
 stars to designate them as members. They could wear 
 them like stars minus the confusion and noise — and plus 
 the refining influence of the flowers. On the whole I 
 think that, after the Sunday School, the Bouquet Club 
 did more for the intellect and refinement of the neigh- 
 borhood than any other organization. For we met at 
 each other's houses and had a certain amount of social 
 contact, in addition to our mental achievements. Peace 
 to its memory. 
 
 And peace to the memory of all those very worthy 
 people that made up the personel of Randolph's Grove 
 and did so much for its welfare, advancement and refine- 
 ment. 
 
 [ 73 ]
 
 *'0n Randolph Hills — to rest and sleep. 
 To lose the city's rude 
 And dusty turmoil in the deep 
 Sweet peace of solitude. 
 Content forever just to lie 
 Above the singing rills. 
 Content to dream — almost to die — 
 At rest — on Randolph Hills." 
 
 Ed Wilson (In The Pantagraph)