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AUGUST 12, 1910
The Commoner.
13
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Letters From Far-Away Friends
The Little Red Shnwl
Idaho City, Ida. Editor Whether
Common or Not: I noted with much
interest and deep feeling, your ar
ticle of the 17th ult., in "Whether
Common or Not," on the Bubject of
"The Little Red Shawl" and other
matters.
Yes, the little red shawl is almost
inseparably linked with the memory
of my mother. Well do I remember
how, when I was a little tot and
was expecting the return of my
mother, I kept looking through the
interstices of the apple trees for the
little red shawl. I remember how,
when I was second from tho youngest
and under five, she would mount
Old Charley, take the youngest on
her lap and place number two be
hind, where he would ride, holding
to the little red shawl. I remember
how we thus rode about that time,
to grand-mother's, eight miles away,
rin almost interminable distance to
me, and saw grandmother, Uncle
John, Aunt Lou and tLe others; and
that I had for several days had a
thorn in my foot, and that John
Bishop (I called him John Billop)
extracted it. Ie seems to mo now
that it was an inch long, and for a
fact it was fully half that length.
- Yes, the men in the rural dis
tricts made their shawl pins of wire,
which they got out of the rims of
tinware, which all had a wire in the
niirf in those 'dys.w They made a
coil near the middle of the piece
of wire, bent it, ground one end to
a point and bent a hook in the other
end to secure it. But when Uncle
John was discharged for disability
and came home from the war, he
brought a "store" shawl pin. It was
made of brass wire and was merely
a large safety pin. Mr. Architect,
if your Uncle John was in the war
you were too young to remember
when he came home. I knew Uncle
John needed the pretty shawl pin
and so didn't ask him to give it to
me, but I wanted it almost as bad
as I wanted a Barlow knife. (Why
have they quit making Barlow
knives?) I remember when I got my
first one. Father had bought a'
knife for my big brother, more than
eight years my senior, and the fam
ily all had to examine it. After I
examined it I remarked, "If he loses
it an' I find it I'm a goin' to keep
it." They were engaged and failed
to notice this remark, but I was un
willing to be thus ignored, so I tried
to convey my intentions in words
edgewise, in this manner: "Well,
if he if he loses if he if he loses
it if he loses it an' I find It I'm a
goin' to keep it." Like William
Lloyd Garrisdn, I was finally heard.
But father persuaded me that a knife
like that as too heavy for me, and
promised that he would get me one
more suitable to my size. And he
did. He always meant to comply
with promises made to his children.
When he came from town again he
brought me a Barlow knife. I slept
well the latter half of that night,
and kept the knife a long time per
haps a week before I lost it.
Yes, mention of the little red
shawl sent my mind in rptrospect,
and brought many of the scenes of
childhood vividly before me
thoughts of father as well as mother.
And I remember when we were walk
ing alone in the depths of the forest,
unobserved by any but the All-See-ing-Eye,
how he stopped and said:
"Let us pray." Then we knelt and
he implored all manner of blessings
upon his family and all humanity J
and finally said, "will the Lord bless
my little boy? Lead him away from
temptation to evil and into Thy
kingdom." If that prayer has not
been granted, J can assure it was
not for lack of sincerity on the part
of the petitioners, nor of fervency
of tho supplication. And now,
though it has been near half a cen
tury, and that petitioner has long
gone to his reward, the brain cells
that were formed by such scenes,
have remained intact, and will so
remain until the subject of that peti
tion shall stand before the great
White Throne. But that mother
that wore the little red shawl has,
for ten years been supplied with a
spotless robe to wear throughout a
happy eternity, and does not need
the little red shawl.
W. H. CABLE.
Must Be a Preacher's Boy
Phoenix, Ariz. Editor Whether
Common or Not: In response to your
request for best songs and funniest
stories, I would say I have several
"best" songs, such as "All hail the
power of Jesus' name," "Jesus Lover
of my Soul," "Nearer My God to
Thee' "Am I a Soldier of the
Cross," and "How Firm a Founda
tion." I think somo of our newer
religious songs are equally fine, such
as "My Saviour First of All" and
"The King's Business." In my opin
ion no secular song can be as sweet
as tho religious songs.
I think "ridiculous" and "disgust
ing" are more nearly applicable to
the parties mentioned by R. L. Smith
of Santa Ana, Cal., than "funny"
and how to get such people to act
with common sense and reason is
one of the problems before us to
day. On a par with the above is
the "funny" statement which I, like
you, have heard so many times, "A
preacher's boy is the worst boy in
the world." But for fear I make
my letter too long I'll reserve my
real funny story for some later time.
W. C. HEDGPETH.
you wanted? I am not n pessimist
not a bit. This is an age of progress,
oi science a glorious era. Tho op
portunity now for boys is ten to our
one, but you can't improve on per-
icction. you asked for my favorite
song and funniest story. My favorites
really range into the hundreds, but
to select tho oldest song best suited
to our condition wo name "Jeans,
Lover of my Soul," (Martyn). Here
is a story that may strike us in sev
eral phases of life an allegory of
our administration:
An old negro went every Sunday
morning under an apple tree to pray
and always wound up by saying, "Oh,
Lawd, If I'se done anything bad dls
pas' week, you may drop a big rock
on dis nigger's head an' bus' it wide
open." But .this time ho failed to
see his master hid in the tree, and
just as he was closing his prayer in
his usual, "Lawd, if you cotched me
doin' anything mean dis pas' week
I hope you may drop a big rock on
my head an' bus' it wide open"
Biff, a rock took him on the top of
tho head. Then, in his agony, he
concluded: "Oh, Lawd, a poor ole
nigger can't joke a little wid you
widout you takin it in col' yearnes.
A. F. HAMITER.
Vandervourt, Ark. Dear Friendly
Editor: Your allusions of late to
the "good old days" calls to memory
many pleasant tilings, I am only
forty-four. My mother is seventy
four, and as I watch her now fast
growing old my recollections still
linger round the home of my child
hood a double log house, open fire
place, big feather beds, with home
spun and hove-woven coverlets and
counterpanes. And, by the way, she
has -one now and it looks as good
as new which was spun and woven
by her grandmother, over one hun
dred years ago. And such blankets
as she used to make! I wore demety
and jeans clothes of her make at my
first school, thirty-nine years ago.
I wore a suit of Humbolt jeans of her
make to see my first girl. She
knew nothing of menus and French
table terms, but no words can portray
the deliciousness of her fig and peach
preserves, mince pies, apple dump
lings, chicken pie, sliced potato pie,
potato pudding, waffles and old time
corn light bread. Now, really, could
we tell how sweet that plain corn
bread tasted baked in an oven that
just chambered three pones? Can
you truthfully say now that, as a
boy, you ate all the mush and milk
THE
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Send far Ileoklet.
M G. HASKELL, V. P.
MUSKOGI2K, OKI, A.
Satisfaction
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StmUmKimk
Gashland, Mo. Editor Whether
Common or Not: You ask for funny
stories and favorite songs. I'm not
a fun-maker, but here Is a little Sun
day school fact of fifty years ago:
A dear maiden lady had a class of
nice girls and ono asked her: "How
old are you, Miss Nancy?" "Older
than good," was her prompt reply,
and she never gavo any other an
swer. Isn't that about the way with
all of us?
This Is told of her:
On a calm, still night
When the moon shone bright
In the shade of a sycamore tree
That dear old maid
Kneeled down and' prayed
A husband dear Lord send unto me
High up sat an owl
On his face was a scowl
Hoo, hoo, called he out twice,
And then the old maid
Most earnestly said,
Any one, Lord, except Joe Itlce.
Through that old bird
Her prayer was sure heard,
And soon were the neighbors all
merry
As the preacher then said
To the dear old maid
"I pronounce you Mrsf Little
berry." At nearly ninety she passed to the
reward of tho faithful.
Among the old parlor songs is
"Twenty Years Ago;"
I wandered to the village, Tom,
And sat beneath the tree
Upon the schoolhouse playing ground
That sheltered you and me.
But none were there to greet me,
Tom,
And few were left to know
Who played with us upon the grass
Just twenty years ago.
Another that carries us back fifty
years is "Ben Bolt."
At the last service In; the old
church the Sunday before we moved
from the old home on the beautiful
Ohio river to the then far west, this
was the farewell song as we shook
hands the last time "with friends:"
Farewell, dear friends, farewell,
I have no home, nor stay with you ;
I'll take my staff and travel on
Till I a better world do view.
The first and best known of relig
ious hymns, learned at the age of
twelve was "Rock of Ages." None Is
sung oftener today. Christians love
those old hymns, "Amazing Grace,"
and "Alas and did my Saviour
Bleed." Among the ojd ones none
is more uplifting than "How firm a
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Land Bargains
1250 acres, extreme eastern part
of South Dakota. This farm Is lo
cated 80 rods from a good town of
1200 inhabitants. Running water:
lake front; line buildings; fenced
and cross fenced; flowing well, all
In first class condition. "Will rent
for $4 per acre, cash rent. Price
$G5 per acre.
100d acres richest corn and grain
land in Iowa; good buildings; small
orchard; large grove; 2 to 10 feet
black loam soil with clay subsoil.
Needs tiling and when in condition
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738 acres wild land In famous
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$3U per acre.
8000 acres wild land, Central Mon
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320 acres good Minnesota land In
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200 acres cultivated, all tillable,
heavy black loam soil with clay sub
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correspondingly low.
D. J. McMAHON,
2 1 6 Endicott B!dg. St. Paul, Minn.
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