IPATTERNS OF s WOLFPEN ■N Harlan Haicker ration/ ^ 0. »* y*0 O- ^ WNU. JiHV/C£ — ” l^-m^,-==-aa!-- ■ 1-- =■■ ■ ■ — SYNOPSIS In 1785 Saul Pattern of Virginia •came into the beautiful virgin coun try of the Big Sandy valley in Kentucky. Chief of the perils were the Shawnees, who sought to hold their lands from the ever-encroach ing w'hltes. From a huge pinnacle ■Saul gazed upon the fat bottoms and the endless acres of forest in its pri meval quietude at the mouth of the Wolfpen, and felt an eagerness to possess it, declaring it a place fit for a man to LIVE in! Five years later he returned with Barton, his fifteen-year-old son, and built a rude cabin. In Saul’s absence the In dians attacked Barton and wounded him so badly Saul was forced to re turn with him to Virginia. In 1796, when it was reasonably safe, Saul returned with his family and a pat ent for 4,000 acres, this time to stay. He added to the cabin, planted crops and fattened his stock on the rich meadows. Soon other settlers Arrived. A century later, in the spring of 1885, we find Cynthia Pat tern, of the fifth generation follow ing Saul, perched on the pinnacle from which her great-great-grand father had first viewed Wolfpen Bot toms. The valleys, heretofore un touched by the waves of change sweeping the Republic, are at last beginning to feel that restless surge. Her dad, Sparrel, and her brothers, Jesse, Jasper and Abral, convert the old water - wheeled mill to steam power. Cynthia feels that something out of the past has been buried with Saul. Cynthia is pretty and imagina tive miss in her late teens, who often re-created Saul and her other fore bears, and fancied them still living. Sparrel proudly brings home the first meal out of the steam mill, and Julia, his wife, is pleased. Genera tion after generation has added com forts and conveniences to Saul’s homestead, and Sparrel has not shirked. The family goes easily into the work of the new season, due to the simplicity of life designed long ago on the Wolfpen, Joy Is abun idant. Jesse plans to study law. A 'stranger, Shellenberger by name, comes to Wolfpen, intent on buying timber. Sparrel refuses his offer. Shellenberger tells of progress in the outside world. With the advent of Shellenberger some intangible dis turbing alteration seems to affect the atmosphere of Wolfpen. Spar rel decides to sell timber land to Shellenberger. CHAPTER V—Continued “Yes. I want to know law and be a lawyer like you.” Tandy studied him as though he were about to seat a juror. “Well. Do you honest?” “I sure do. I just wondered If you’d take me into your office here with you and help me learn law. I might be able to help you a right smart looking up things for you and writing papers.” His eagerness mounted with the words and quiv ered in his throat. “Well, now, I don’t hardly know, Jesse. When would you want to come?” "Not much before fall I don’t reckon till things about the place are up in shape. But I thought if . . .” “How much schooling have you had, Jesse?” “A righ smast. Five winters at Gannon Creek school. And then I’ve read all Dad’s books over and I always read the Cincinnati Week ly Gazette.” “Well, now, I don’t hardly know, Jesse.” Tandy walked about the room impressively. “I thought if you’d agree to it I could take one of your books over home and get started some before fall." “Well, Jesse, I’ll tell you. If you’ve made up your mind to follow the law, I’ll be glad to have you. Things are slack right now, but they’re go ing to pick up before long around here. I’m getting practice down the river now and it’ll be handy to have somebody here in the office.” “I’ll be much obliged to you,” Jesse said. “Don’t mention it.” Tandy showed him some of the law books and told him how they were arranged in series and how you found by number the statute and judgments on a case. “And here’s a brand-new book. I ain’t even read myself. You take it and read it. It’s the bed-rock of the study of law." He placed in Jesse’s hands the Cooley edition of Blackstone's “Commentaries on the Laws of England,” with reference notes to English and American decisions and statutes to date (1884) and some considerations regarding the study of the law. Jesse spilled the folios from his lap, and took into his plow - har dened hands the unopened volume of bed-rock law. After a while he found himself up by the fenc“ around the high grounds of the In stitute above the crowded town. He sat on a log in the sun, his eyes moving from the book down to the ^court-house steeple and the wharf, then back to the book, projecting himself into the day when he would he a great lawyer like Tandy Mor gan, and have an oflice and clients to plead for. He was absorbed be yond all disturbance. The morn ing passed, midday came and went without suggesting food, and the dream and the book full of strange and puzzling words like libelant and argumentum and hominem ab sorbed him Into the middle of the afternoon. Then be came to, see ing that the square was emptying of horses and men. He got stiffly to his feet, placed the book awk wardly under bis coat nnd hurried down to the stable for the long ride back to Wolfpen. When Sparrel detached himself from his boys, he walked by the bank nnd the three stores, greeting the men he knew, nnd up to the corner of the Gibson House. The tiling Sparrel had made his mind up to, now wavered within him, nnd in stead of going in at once, lie turned nnd went back down the street, greeting the men In the square, and watching the horse traders riding up and down the street before the skeptical customers. He went on around the court - house square, slowly traversing Its four sides banked with horses and snddle mules hitched to the rails, and came up to the Gibson House from the opposite direction, and then, as though the destined moment had arrived, he lifted ills head above the press of men nnd walked straight Into the lobby of the Gibson House. Sheilenberger was sitting In a chair with his legs crossed and one foot resting on the shelf of the bay window, smoking, looking not at the “Yes, I Want to Know Law and Be a Lawyer Like You." square but above It into the tim bered mountains. He looked the part of a well-to-do stranger tem porarily isolated in a mountain town. There was no one else in the room. Shellenberger stood up, and ex tended his hand in eager hospitality. “Good morning, Mr. Pattern 1" “Howdy,” Sparrel said reservedly. "Well, how are you this morning?” “Well as common,” Sparrel said, and then calmly in his slow voice with the melody in It, “You got around all right, I see.” “I got around all right, thanks to your mule. What do I owe you for the use of it?” “Nothing at all, nothing at alL Glad to accommodate you.” “Smoke?” Shellenberger offered a cigar. “No, but much obliged to you.” They sat down. “A good deal of trade on the riv ers.” “Yes. Pikeville is a right good sized town now,” Sparrel said. “And it will get better as this re gion opens up.” The subject was ready to be brought into the open, but Sparrel was still. Then Shellenberger plunged. “Well, Mr. Pattern, I rode by that lower timber-land. It may not be as good as I first thought, but I'll stick to the proposition I made. What do you say about it?" “I don't guess I can do it,” Spar rel said. “You mean you won’t sell!" Shel lenberger exclaimed. “That's about what it amount to.” “But why not, Pattern, why not? Four dollars an acre is a big price. Well, what do you want fur it?" he demanded resolutely. “F'ive dollars an acre." Shellenberger smoked, making &hort puffs, and twisting the cigar. “You'll have it surveyed by a competent man?” Shellenberger said. “I’ll board him," Sparrel said, t. “and you pay the wages against the price of the land.” The tension relaxed, there was a pause, and Shellenberger said, more naturally and pleasantly, “You're robbing and cheating me, Mr. Pat tern, but I’ll do It And we’ll get a man over there as soon as possible. Do you know anybody?” “I've heard of a good man down at Catlettsburg.” “What’s his name?” "Warren.” “I’ll see him when I go down to morrow and send him up if I can and I’ll be back in here In a couple of weeks or so." As Sparrel walked through the square, greeting the men, talking of the crops and the price of cattle, the feeling that he had made a good bargain with the extra dollar sustained him in the bnckwash of doubt that followed the important and irrevocable decision. Jasper was already at the stable. Jesse, with the book under his coat, came breathlessly with long strides through the open doors just ns Har din Slusser brought the mules from the stalls. “Did you make out all right?” Sparrel asked. “I got what I came for,” Jesse said, mounting. “You know we got an extra mule here,” Jasper said. “It seems like a waste just to lead her,” Hardin sputtered. Jasper had no retort. He swung into the saddle. Then as Sparrel mounted and started to go without saying any thing. Ilnrdrn could wait no longer for the news. “Did you trade any with that feller, Sparrel?" “I figure I may do some business with him, later on," Sparrel said. He rode out of the stable and down the road followed by Jasper and Jesse. CHAPTER VI WOLFPEN seemed emptied to Cynthia when Sparrel and Jesse and Jasper had ridden out of it. Or, perhaps, the feel of emptiness was only the moment of unusual stillness between the tumult of day break and the loi.ely, eadenced si lence of a mountain farm when people were not about: tufted car dlnais flashing red among the cher ry blossoms and scattering liquid notes on the morning like a flutter of released petal spiraling to the ground; bleating lambs leaping nerv ously and awkwardly about the lot, still dazed and bewildered by the new and unfamiliar world Into which they had suddenly been dropped. Slowly she went back to the house and put the kitchen in order. Julia had gone out to her garden. Abral had disappeared into one of the hol lows. The wonted equilibrium was even more upset within, and she could feel the fragments moving about her Into new arrangements. She went upstairs and sat on the foot of her bed looking out on the or chard. “The world looks different to a body when you look out of an upstairs window. What would It be like If you were always above It as high as a house Instead of down In it as low as a man and looked over an orchard in bloom the way you look over a cornfield in June? Would you still feel a bit twisted out of shape Inside because of the way your folks and things move about in the bottoms? I feel like Pm be ing pulled by something that Is moving around the place and taking me with It, and I guess I’ll just go." It was the smell of the orchard surging through the window and retreating with the wind that did the pulling. She wandered down among the apple trees where the bees were diving in the golden dust in the pollen centers, and the gray-blue catbirds were flutter ing with no sound through the branches. The wavering bleat of a young lamb ran over the jagged shingles of the barn roof and broke into pieces about her. That reminded her of Jesse’s charge and she went down to the barn and leaned over the bars of the sheep-lot. By the door in the sun lay like a piece of cloud a little pile of white fleece, and on the wall was stretched the raw hide to dry before it went on to Sparrel’s tunning vat. The sight of these things made her heart heavy with the thought of birth and death. The ewes in the lot were placid with the weight and experience of timeless and ageless years of bear ing and being born. Their uncon cern for the lambs was for the mo ment monumental. They lay in com plete tranquillity under the sun as though their energy had lied them and was now leaping again in the spindly legs of the new offspring. She went quietly down to the lower bars, and when she had slow ly drawn them without disturbing the calm which was on the sheep, she drove them down to the creek to water them. The shepherd hounded off professionally down the fence and across Wolfpen to pre vent the sheep from scattering. They hovered on the edge of the creek in hesitation, lifting doubtful heads toward Cynthia and then staring at the dog. lie was alert but motionless. Then one of the oldest ewes accepted him and went down into the water and drank. The whole flock drank and then raised their heads to look again, letting a trickle of water dribble from the tuft of fleece under their throats. The same ewe started to cross the creek, but the shepherd hr ered his head and barked, ami she turned back and was followed by the others Into the pen. Cynthia closed the bars. “That’s better," she said, and the dog muzzled her hand. “Sheep live a calm and easy life, don’t they, Shep? Never much to bother them worse than your bark that wouldn’t hurt a motherless lamb if he just knew It. And al‘ ways somebody to see that they have food and water. The women always water the sheep; there’s Bible for that. And come to think of It the Bible women always met their men at the well when they watered their sheep. Let’s see: there was Hebekah and Rachel and Jethro’s daughter ... I wonder If it would be better to be watering a Hock of scared ewes, just putting up the last bar like this for in stance, and the stranger from an other land would come up the path and see you and say he had come from a far place to find you and could he water your flock for you? No, I still think It would be bet ter to be by the pear tree with a sprig of blossom In your hand, for likely as not all the silly lambs would start bna-lng at once till a body couldn't hear wlmt he was saying." When she had reached the end of that dream, she found herself back in the barnyard a little dazed in her mood of idle and purpose less wanderings, and there came rushing back to her the vision of Sparrel disappearing In the dawn with Jasper, and of Jesse riding away on a sudden notion. The un balance returned and she followed It through the sweet-potato patch where the plants were beginning to trail the suudy eartli with slen der green tentacles, and down to the creek. There was satisfaction in this kind of Idleness, the cows in the quiet of afternoon under a chestnut tree staring into the great peace beyond the world of wearied flesh. She drifted without haste to the sparse clump of w illows where the water ceased flowing over the serrated slate bottom and lapsed into the profound peace of the mill dam. “Does running w-nter like to slip into the pool and stop and lie down like a tired ewe, or does It try to get aw-ay again and run down to the mill and tumble with the big wheel, clasping its paddles and pulling It around while the wa ter eases itself down to the creek bed again like Jesse swinging to the ground from the top branches of a young sapling. I guess It’s like sheep and people, that way, and sometimes likes to lie quiet and sometimes likes to pull on a wheel and go some place else Just to be where you’re not." The shepherd, springing before her around the willow trees, gave a low growl and retreated a step. Cynthia looked. It was nothing more startling than a blncksnake, and that was nothing at all because Sparrel always kept one In the corn-crib to catch mice. But while she was yet speaking this to her self, she felt her stomach tighten Involuntarily and a wave of sick ness gripped her abdomen and con tracted up into her throat. The thick black reptile was In the act of swallowdng a coppered-colored toad with blue warts on Its back. It had already sucked into Its gul let both twitching bind legs, and the lubricating slime from Its ex tended mouth was oozing out In a white froth to engulf the quivering front legs and the trembling throat. The glassy eyes of the terrified toad bulged out In a death panic. It seemed to Cynthia that they w-ere fastened upon her, and she became the suffering animal, en dowing the toad with her own re vulsions, feeling her own legs en gulfed and absorbed into the rep tile. She picked up a stick and punched the snake on the neck. Fright sud denly seized It. In a trickle of slime It ejected the toad, and slid In ter ror back into the bushes across the path. Cynthia controlled the pang of nausea as she watched the par alyzed toad try to move Its help less legs. She pushed It gently un der a ledge In the rock bank and left It there. She stood for n moment where she had sat watching the bubbles and the minnow's, relaxing but still disturbed and breathless. “There now, Cynthia Pattern, what are you going to do and think next, any way? Why did you go and do that? Snakes have to live too; and you hate to see such things but still they go on all the time and you don’t think anything about it. It must be the seeing of It.” And try ing to shake off the revulsion, she shuddered and ran down to the mill again. She tossed the stick Into Wolf pen, watching it float away toward Gannon creek. One end caught on a rock and stood while the other moved slowly around with the cur rent and set it free. She followed it through the Y Meadow and Into Gnnnon where It gathered speed and soon disappeared around the bend. ’ Language of Jesus While scholars are not agreed as to the language spoken by Jesus, it is generally supposed that it was the Galilean dialect of the Aramaic or Syriac language, a corrupted form of the Hebrew proper. This was the language of the common people, while Hebrew remained the learned and sacred language of the Jews. Both Latin and Greek were also used In Palestine, particularly by the Roman rulers and the trad ing classes. ThiJttanUlhoOO Tales and , Traditions from American Political History •T FRANK I. HAOKN AMD I IMP scon WATSON THE BIG SHOW COSTS COME presidential candidates are ^ wafted into office on a cloud of smoke while the aspirations of oth ers are dashed to oblivion by the same breeze. All of which is by way of saying that the cigar^making industry is due for a boom, now that a presi dential election year is with us. As far back as 1888 when Harrison was elected the astounding num ber of 100,000,000 more cigars were manufactured than the preceding year. By 1920 and its increased population the boost in cigar mak ing for the presidential year came to the tidy total of $20,000,000 above that of 1919. The astonishing thing about the big, countrywide show of an elec tion is that the Havana filler the politician stuffs into your moth is merely an item in the whole cam paign and election costs. The lat ter, it has been estimated by com petent and conservative observers, reaches $40,000,000. In addition to that huge sum there are other millions impossible to compute. Out of all this spending it Is perhaps fortunate for the Ameri can public that usually more good than merely the choosing of a Pres ident is the result. For one thing, hundreds of thou sands of persons are employed— not the least of them being news paper workers who figure briefly but actively in compiling election returns. In Chicago, for example, the busi ness of collecting returns is in the hands of the police. An offi cer visits each precinct, obtains two results of the vote. One of these he speeds to the board of election commissioners, the other to the City News Bureau which has moved bodily into Chicago’s coun cil chambers for the evening. Rents are paid out for organiza tion quarters, down to the smallest precinct; spellbinders are em ployed, with all expenses paid; bands are hired; banquets are spread . . . and the politicians pass out cigars. Did we say $40,000,000 expense? Well, it’s a conservative estimate, anyway. CROPS AND ELECTIONS IF THE Democratic party is dubi ous about the 1936 election it may be because of the drought. History of our political cam paigns indicates that the size of crops has an important bearing on national elections. In other words, if there be a scarcity of farm prod ucts, the party in power is turned out of office. None can say that this is an in fallible rule, yel there are notable periods and events which tend to prove its truth. A seven years’ drought, for example, starting in 1833, is the first widespread de struction of crops jf which there is record. At the end of it, Martin Van Buren was voted out of office and the Whigs came in with a great show of strength. A second drought occurred short ly before the Civil war, but the latter event dominated, of course, every trend of political develop ment for that period. In 1874 there was a large Republican majority in the lower branch of congress . . . but there hac’ been drought years immediately preceding, and Democratic congressmen were elected in droves. Beginning in 1887, ten years showed a deficiency of rainfall and crops naturally suffered. It was during this period, perhaps more than in any other, that the Ameri can voter practiced assiduously his right to vote parties in and out of power. Conditions may be changed today. The Democratic party, which hap pens to be in the saddle, has sur vived one of the country’s worst j crop years, 1934. There are politi cal observers who assert that we are too much an industrial nation today for Old Man Weather to lay such a heavy hand on political for tunes. Only time will tell if this estimate of the situation is correct. When this is written, however, indications point clearly that burning, dry winds have destroyed a large part of the spring wheat crop in the Dakotas and Montana. Industrial nation or not. it is at least an even bet that when the campaign warms up particular at tention will be paid to those three states by Messrs. Hamilton and Farley—not to mention Congress man Lemke, who hails from that area himself.