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CALIFORNIA FARMER SECTION
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•'THE MIDLANDERS”
----------------------- By Charles Tenney Jackson,:.. ::.. :.:. ,1
(('»■IlMU^d From l^«< XX cr-k >
phis among tho that ty-boat folk.
Then a government dredge lowed them
up river, the Illa woman cooking for
the crew. The men used to watch a
child who, from her house l>oat dock,
would put a bit of tinsel or a flower In
her hiilr and stare down In the water
to admire the picture, or would smooth
her gipsy dress over her hips, unnotlc-
ins her audience
If they hailed her
she pretended i.ot to hear them. They
wculd not believe she was but thlreen,
so tropically prim*! was her woman
hood. so tantullxlngly wise her reserve.
So. up the great river of her dreams
they went for months and months.
Then, one night on the Mineeota shore,
the dredge burned, und t’nete Michigan
cut the house-boat loose. It bumped
on down the river again to come aim
lessly adrift in a pocket of the Iowa
hills.
There It stuck, and all the
dreamy summer the weeds and sands
thickened about until It could drift no
more.
And one day the exile* climbed a
noar-by hill to look down on a town
burled In September maples; a decent
church spire here and there, the clock
tower of the court-house In the square,
ant’ farmer folk driving homeward.
on this prosy common day of the
northern midlands. Aurelio, with the
good-humored curiosity of a savage,
looked down for her first glimpse of an
ordered life. Out of the sweet and
heavy richness of the corn bloom and
the sugar trees, from u white house,
half-hidden, came a piano's note«, the
first she had ever heard.
She clapped her little brown hands.
"Done come! Michigan, I reckon we
found some of them states and coun
tries with the music names
We-all
come to the land o'Joy!”
"The land o' Joy!" he cried. slxlning-
eyed. "That's where you'll had us to!”
He motioned to tne Indian woman.
Well take this yere little girl and
drift 'way off yander to all the places
she ain't ever seen. First. we'll pole
the ole john-boat down to Grand Isle
so she'll see the ocean. Then we'll drift
off Atchafiilaya way a’ 1 she'll see the
big woods. Then we'll drift on north
and west and every way. and she'll see
all the states and countties!
What
names Is them I done told you. Aurelie
—-the music names?"
“Callforny,” she said simply.
“And next one?”
“Arixony.”
"And Montany, and Iowuy >tnd Ten
nessee and Ohio! All them we ll see
and more!
Lead us to the land o’
Joy!"
And all her strange after-life of
laughter and of tears the little girl re
membered the old soldier waving his
hand to the undiscovered countries.
And always she knew he was at heart
tho poet, the advenlurerer. the lover,
whatever else he might be; nothing
could change that.
So the next day they piled old traps
and boxes and blankets and hound
pups and the five wooden logs of Cap
tain Tinkletoee as keepsakes. Into the
John-boat and set off to find the land
of joy with music names. South and
east "hrough brilliant wilderneswes.
poling (hrough Illy jams, sailing swamp
lakes, paddling salt marshes. Shrimp
camps,
oyster platforms.
terrapin
hunters of Grand Isle they wandered
and worked, and Aurelie came to know
other children of all hues and races,
and at the Island balls learned to
dance with orange blossoms In her
CHAPTER II
hair. The murmur of the sea was In
When I Was a Kid.
her ears, the moonlight on the oaks In
In September, looking from the
her eyes, and with the droning Creole
violins she awakened to calctv. losing court-house Square of Home, one «<•<■«
the droll seriousness of a savage. Also, the ripening corn like a bronze shield
for the first time, she had her face on the hilis which close every street
washed cleanly—by the storekeeper’s end beyond the arching sugar trees.
wife who kr.ew then she 'vos not of the The bottoms, too. are choked by the lust
undecipherable Chino-Spanish-Killpino of the corn, and the church spires and
breed of the shrimp platform villages. the ragged sycamores along the road
But when the balls were over, a shifty- sides rise out of this opulent sea from
footed and suspicious savage woman the rive to the bluffs as If drowning
took Aurelie ard led her off to their In the perfume of the tassels. These
ragged tent. Always through the blur w . st bluffs alone seem to evade the
of queer faces—black, brown, yellow, conquest; one sees a road winding up
w hite—Aurelie remembered the watch a red gap among groves of oak, hick
ful love in the eyes of the basket- ory, walnut; with the crimson sumac
maker and of uncle Michigan. Always and alders showing a lighter soil, the
for these were what she knew of love! upland croppings of shale, clay and
From the Gulf-coast Islands they stony ridges. Here one has glimpses
went west and north, and In the y> v« of clover and oat stubble, rounded
the eftild became a girl, slender, lithe, stacks, barns, windmills, white farm
swift—keen of eye on a deer trail, trap homes and wire femes about shaded
ping the mink ard raccoors, following piutur'S. But bejond, the triumphant
tho wild bees' flight, weaving baskets sea of the corn stretches north and
with strong brown fingers to lure th« west across the Iowa Midlands, for
shrimp from under the lilies, balancing th« r* Is no trace of the virgin soil, the
herself to shoot in a ticklish "running chart •--rass as the Indians rode It when
pirougue" that would steal through the tho settlers of th«' forties came.
It U a land fat to bursting with num
swamps where a heavier hunter dared
rot follow. Thus she grew, with never berless rich and complacent little cit
a qualm for the blood of the hunted ies. The county annals show you that
nor a doubt of the Maker's Intent. Hut the people never have hungered, fought
at twelve the was a woman, blithe and nor suffered. From the first every man
unthinking and kind-hearted, without had his bag of silver under the punch
eon floor of his «(.bin and went forth
fear, without guile.
to buy the acres ns the Macs and Foxes
Perhaps!
At any rate, one day. censured by th" moved away. Tho s«!«oiid year they
Indian womtin, she stole from ramp, ate theii own corn with »he venison
swam Grand River with her gaudy and prairie chicken; their schools and
little gown tucked In a knot on her churches were built before tho oak In
head, dressed In the vzoods and ap their own cabin hom<s was dry; and
peared at a Cajun ball with a wild the first grand Jury of this Iowa county
hyacinth In her hair. She danced and sat in the untrodden grass of what is
laughed and bewildered the woods now Rome's main street and Indicted a
men. pretendlrg to know no English territorial commissioner for malfeas
It was significant; the first
when the Yankees addressed her. and ance.
no French when spoken to in that Miilland«*rs were Insurgents of con
tongues. But standing In the heated science and tot hunger-rebellious, for
“ballroom”, she sang a barbaric song never had they felt want or known
the Indian woman had taught her. sacrifice.
Tho Indians called It "The Ijind of
posed with an odd theatric fancy, and
Beautiful Rivers", end few towns there
then ran away leaving them gaping.
When she swam to the John boat at are which have not a stream loitering
dawn and put her hand upon Michi near over clear pebbly bars and along
gan's as ho flshed, he started, tried to blue-stom margins where tho wild
grapes and crabapples lure the children
swear helplessly and stopped,
autumn long. Through Roms, th«»re-
laughed.
"Damme! How we gol.T to do If you fore, flows Hlnslnawa Creek sleeping
the summer in leaf-lined, sweet-smell
act that-a-way?”
"Whlch-a-wr-y?” And she drew tip ing pools along the shady streets where
her naked little body, poised on the the boys fish for shiners with their
boat, pressed her hands over her hats; and where, in October, the water
swelling breasts and stared to the having dried, the oak and maple leaves
north. "Michigan, when air wo goln’ drift deep so that, by Hallowe’en all
to see all the states and lands with tho tie town Is filled with the pungent
stnell of the smoke.
music names you tell of?”
Rome Is In a continual grandmother
"Aurelie, you air gettln’ to be such a
big girl and such a pretty girl as I ly quarrel with Hlnslnawa Creek;
dunno if we ought to let you see all never has it been able to reason so
briety Into the laughing Jade which
them countries."
"Then I'll run off and see 'em my tumbles its June freshets down from
tho bluffs, fills every hollow of the
self!"
But at last they came out on the wandering streets and vacant lots,
mighty river that Michigan had not plays mischief with fences and walks
seen since he left his leg at Vicksburg; ard gons its way to the Mississippi
and ar other year found them at Mem across the bottoms, leaving Its mir-
r«>re<l pools to taunt the ancient dame
of a town with its wilfulnrss.
Yet
Rome so loves the wanton that when
Earlville wanted to divert Its waters
In the uplands to run a factory for that
aggressive metropolis of the county,
the protest that went up «•«hoed for
years In local politics.
Ezirlvilllana
called It "Hui ('reek", or "Skunk
Creek”, but what could ore exp«*'t of
Earlville?
In Rome wh«'n a tree Interferes with
a sidewalk th« wiilk Is not built; In
Earlville th«* tree Is cut down and the
cement laid. That is why Earlville has
the rullroal, the furniture factory and
the Elks’ Club, while Horn« has only Ila
memories. Its rusty fences and Its twat
families.' And the county court house
The court-house <>fi!< rs und the beat
families ware ix tradition us venerably
intertwined as the Ivy and bricks of
the walla. Rome knew Ila position. It
would have sat with dignity on Its hills
only Hkunk Creek I beg pardon, bln-
slnawa!—kept pushing It off.
Yet nona tn Rome more than mildly
censured Hlnslnawa. Not aven Wiley
T. Curran of the Rome News, who was
always bolherlt g the town board about
street improvetmnlA
11« ought to
have known better. Every one having
county buelneai had to come to Rome
If one didn't like the streets one could
go to- Earlville
Wiley T. Curran used to retort that
a good mat y had. Rome contained not
rearly so many people ns It did « hen
the war closed. Earlville, th«wi, was
ni< rely one of Thaddeus Tauer's cow
pastures
Earlville welcomed any one
who would "hustle" u the Boosters'
Club put. Rome did not care to have
people about whose families nothing
was known. Every one there had llvetl
In Rome since I (CO at least Even the
obnoxious Mr. Curran's progenitors,
and some of the old families tolerated
the News solely because Bat Curran
founded It before the court-hour« was
built. But those families were few. for
I'at Curran had been one of the fight
ing abolitionists, and southern Iowa
was noticeably In the stream of the
Kentucky and Virginia migrations
during the ■■•< esslon prelude. To this
day these lo'V«-r counties are known as
"The Reserve", and have ever stood
aloof from the rampant republl anlsm
of ths militant North and West. In
Rome still exists dim traditions of Tul
ly's raid and the copperhewdlstn that
was smothered In the triumph of the
Nrthern arma It lends a political om-
servatlsm and a "best family" air to
society, and accounts for the tumble
down fences, unpaved streets and Ar
cadian corner lots. It also furnished
Curran, of the News, with editorials.
But no one who was any one minded
Curran. In Rome everybody who was
anybody had money. In these rich and
mature days, having the static order of
the East ar.d a stationary population,
more than a generation of young men
had gone off from the priceless corn
lands of th« county to the ch«np«ir
acres of the Canadas, or the Irrigated
valleys of California and New Mexico
or to the cities. Retired farmers mov
ing Into town for tho schools and froe-
dom from stock-f~dlng, did not com-
pet sate for tho drain of younger blood.
Curran Lamented this.
But Curran
himself had gone off to swing the circle
of the West for a decade and come
back a beggar to take up the News on
his father’s drath. And now the Newt
could cackle as it pleased about pro-
gresstveneas and k<-eplng the young
men In the county for th«lr frosh
spirit and lustier ideals, No <> ii <- mind
ed -none of the boat people. Anybody
who was anybody wouldn't think of
moving away.
Except Mr. Curran. He wondered
why he had come back
Hr-ntlment
brought him as It had sent him forth,
as It directed most of his ntfalrs. Hon-
tlrnerit, this September afternoon, kept
him sitting on n bale of stock paper In
front of the News office wutclilnr «.ho
town kids bat flics on the vaz nnt lot
next to him. It wits press day, the
week's Issue wax run off and Aleck and
Jim Mims, the tramp printer, wore
wrapping tho mall list to take to the
postofllce In the wheelban ow. Mr.
Curran ought to have been busy, but
he smoked and watched tho town kids.
In that earn« lot he batted flies with
the some fence for a back-stop, yelled
tho same derision at tho pitcher, broke
tho same y Inflows and flea down tho
same alley when old Marshal Toe camo
doddering from tho court-house on
complaint of tho Widow Sieger. Mr.
Curran could sentimentally forget that
he was thirty-nine.
A clamor of tho high-school football
practice camo from behind the curtain
of yellowing sugar trees on High
zz
street. Only the younger town kids
still lingered at the summer diversion
of fly-baiting, and 'or »very urchin
who hung his bare legs over tho News
walk III the tarweed, walling his turn,
there were at Icost two dogs As Jim
Mima mid, nl' the yelps and ky oodles
In town were there. Mr. Curran sen
timentally wished hr had a dog ho
felt himself a man worthy a good dog.
lie llsttMK'd to «leek slapping tho
pset<> on th< wrappers and Watched tho
k> «Midlts yawing around the kids* fort,
scratching their spines In the larwood
and grinning up with all the pleusoro
of It. and he said suddenly aloud:
"G«e. 1 wish I had a dog!"
Thin somebody whom he bnd not
noticed a big dusty man wearing a
new ami absurdly small derby hat -
stoppod with bls hand on the hllchlng-
poet before the News and retorted:
"< !• < I w Uh I had a dog I *
The editor turned and then stood up
and yelled
And tho big dusty nuux
took his hnnd and ho yelled.
"Wil. v. old tel ' •
"Rube, you old Indian*"
Rul>e grinned all over .his swarthy
face. “Old top. how are you?"
"High. wl^<> and luuidsome1"
"You don t look that last. Wiley.
How's the old lady?"
“Aunt Abby's fit os silk Come up to
dinner."
“I Infended to
Iley, the kids still
playing ball on the lot llko Ibex did
when I was a kid'“
"Hcason closed. Rube’ Where .11-1
your bunch wind up?"
"In the collar. I'm through with the
game, Wiley. I can't throw to so-nnd
no more. Mv arm's all In
No more
of this bush-league ball for me Car«
uilcharl's still got that fob for me—
Chambermaid to hts livery h*>r»«» '"
Mr Curran laughed sorrowfully Ho
did Rube Van llart lie rubbed his big
red hands and then a telltale red nose
and look'd down at the town kids who
had assembled to gaxe In awe
Ono
raced off to the high s« bool prar tfi o to
spread th» news
' HI. Itube Van
Hart's got back I"
Everybody knew Rube.
poor old
Rut»«' The whole natliwi know liul>o
» while bock let's see? Was It with
the Cube. 1001 or 02? Eh. ths bubble
reputation! There were other mighty
men now Rub« had gone Ixck to ths
"bush”.
"Next spring," went on the former
leaguer, '1'11 slay and coa. h th«- hlgh-
scho«il bunch, Wiley.”
"No, you won't," smiled th« editor.
"When you begin tn rend the Bunday
sups, and sprit g training opens up
down in Han Antonio you'll he missing
some fine morning Gone to hslp break
In tho Cub recruits, and then you'll
play out the season with tho Cotton
league or the Three-C."
"No more. Here's my fit Ish. Wiley-
right here where I learned th«- game
next tho News lot
Back In the old
town w here you come hock. too. Wiley.
Back where we was kids together."
The editor looked wistfully across
the court-house square. Tho big leag
uer's glance followed. A b.ir of ths
sunset lighted tho dingy old court -
house. The windows were open. From
the court room shove cam« the y< |< e of
some lawyer droning his plea to a
farmer Jury. In an office on the lower
floor one couPI see a woman bant seri
ously over a desk lltered with papers
and reports.
"The old red. west-side ». hool.’
murmured Rube. "And there's Janet
Vance, and now she's county superin
tendent, and I'm all In. and you're a
fool editor. That girl got ahead of us
all, Wiley, since we was kids together."
Wiley sighed, lie pulled hts short
brown beard, that Vandyke which, tn
Home, lent him a foreign air and guvs
him th«i reputation of being literary
whatever that meant.
Nol<ody, not
• ven tho fool editor, knew tvactly.
Yet nobody was afraid of Mr. Curran.
Th« kids spoke of him as "Wiley"; sJI
the old women <ame In to tel) him their
n«"lghborhood troubles; and on High
street the best families ignored hhn.
even with their irritated feeling that
on points of tho worldly manner he was
Infinitely bolter versed than they, and
that ho was laughing at lh< m. It was
known that Mr. Curran had bwn to
Europa It was rumored that he had
been in jail. One can learn a deal In
each. Mr. Curran, It seems, had
learned to laugh.
"Every time I come back to the old
town," mused Rube, “I wonder why
you didn’t marry Janet; Everybody
thought you would " Ho ndded apolo
getically: “Hhe thought you would,”
Wiley shrug/ed. Old friends can say
much and hurt Utile.
"Why tho blazes," resumed Rube,
"don't you marry her yet? You aia'