Finally Lin, turning to the mother, inquired: "What did ye think uf the blessin'?"

"It was very fervent," absently answered the mother.

Lin sniffed. "Well, I'd swore afore a volcany uf fire thet I smelled licker on both uf 'em."

The mother communicated Lin's suspicions to the father. He admitted that Jake might be addicted to liquor. Palmer, as an artist, used a great deal of alcohol to dissolve the sh.e.l.lac used for sizing the canvas preparatory to painting and the fumes of alcohol would pervade a man's clothing a long time after being subjected to its permeating influences.

Lin, with a twinkle in her eye, declared in a loud whisper as the father left the room: "Well, durned ef I wus him ef I wouldn't change my clothes afore I asked a blessin' agin."

The mother was very much worried. She communicated her fears to Uncle Thomas and Aunt Sarah. Uncle William, the county judge, was called into conference. He advised that since Alfred seemed inclined to a roving life it would be better for him to be connected with a religious show than with a worldly one for he would be free from the vicious surroundings of a circus or minstrel show, and suggested that a binding contract be made with Palmer.

Grandfather secured a copy of the contract under which his brother, the judge, had been apprenticed, and had a copy made to fit Alfred's engagement to Palmer.

The following is an exact copy of the indenture which bound Uncle William to learn the trade of a blacksmith. It is now on record in the county courthouse at Uniontown, Pennsylvania:

THIS INDENTURE WITNESSETH: That William Hatfield, of the Township of Union, in the County of Fayette, State of Pennsylvania, hath put himself by the approbation of his guardian, John Withrow, and by these presents doth voluntarily put himself an apprentice to George Wintermute, of the township of Redstone, county and state aforesaid, blacksmith, to learn his art, trade or mystery he now occupieth or followeth, and after the manner of an apprentice to serve from the day of the date hereof, for and during the full end and term of five years, next ensuing, during all of which time he, the said apprentice, his said master shall faithfully serve, his secrets keep, his lawful commands everywhere gladly obey; he shall do no damage to his said master, nor suffer it to be done without giving notice to his said master; he shall not waste his master's goods, nor lend them unlawfully to others; he shall not absent himself day or night from his master's service without his leave; he shall not commit any unlawful deed whereby his said master shall sustain damage, nor contract matrimony within the said term; he shall not buy nor sell nor make any contract whatsoever, whereby his master receive damage, but in all things behave himself as a faithful apprentice ought to do during said term. And the said George Wintermute shall use the utmost of his endeavors to teach, or cause to be taught and instructed, the said apprentice the trade or mystery he now occupieth or followeth, and procure and provide for him, the said apprentice, sufficient meat, drink, common wearing apparel, washing, lodging, fitting for an apprentice during the said term; and further he, the said master, doth agree to give unto the said apprentice, ten months'

schooling within the said term, and also the master doth agree to give unto the said apprentice two weeks in harvest in each and every year that he, the said apprentice, shall stay with his said master; also the said George Wintermute, doth agree to give unto the said apprentice one good freedom suit of clothes. And for the true performance of all and every the said covenants and agreements, either of the said parties binds themselves to each other by these presents.

In witness whereof, they have interchangably put their hands and seals, the first day of April, one thousand, eight hundred and sixteen.

GEORGE WINTERMUTE, (Seal) WILLIAM HATFIELD, (Seal) JOHN WITHROW, (Seal)

Witness present: BENJAMIN ROBERTS.

FAYETTE COUNTY, SS.:

May the 29th, one thousand eight hundred and sixteen, before me the subscriber, one of the justices of the peace, in and for the said county, came the parties to the within indenture and severally acknowledged it as their act and deed. Given under my hand and seal the day and year above mentioned.

BENJAMIN ROBERTS, (Seal)

A copy of the paper binding Alfred to George Washington Palmer is on record in the county courthouse at Leesburg, Loudoun County, Virginia.

Grandfather argued that if his brother, the judge, could acc.u.mulate farms and town property and raise himself to the dignity of a judge, Alfred certainly should do equally as well.

It was not many days before Alfred's duties would take him away from home and he began a round of visits to bid all good-bye.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Taffy Pulling]

Cousin Mary Craft gave a cotillion party in the country. Cousins Hester and Martha gave a party in town. Frank Long gave a taffy pulling. The hot plates of taffy were placed outside the kitchen door on the brick walk to cool before the taffy was pulled. Archibald Long, Frank's father, not knowing of the taffy's location, walked out of the house in his stocking feet, as was his custom ere he retired. In the darkness he planted one foot, then the other, in a plate of the hot taffy. This caused him to jump several feet in the air. He started to run. At each step his feet found another taffy plate. Gobs of the hot stuff sticking to his feet, pressing up between his toes, the old man introduced a dance--a high kicking dance that would have won him fame and fortune on the stage. The hot gobs of taffy clinging to his expansive, woolen sock-encased feet caused him such intense pain, the old man endeavored to introduce a new stunt, namely, to throw both feet in the air at the same time.

All the boys and girls ran from the dining room at the first sound of the yells of the old man. The lamps within enlightened the weird scene without.

When both feet were flung in the air simultaneously the old man sat down suddenly. He sat on the largest plate, with the hottest gob of taffy in the collection. His seat had barely touched the plate, the taffy had scarcely squashed through his jeans pants, until he made an effort to rise again. Failing in this he flopped on his stomach, clutching and tearing at his seat of latest misery, taffy stringing from his fingers.

Rearing his rear end high in the taffy laden air he planted his head in another plate of taffy which, was still tenderly clinging to the few straggling hairs on the old man's pate, as they carried him into the house, the taffy plate on his head like the crown of the old king.

Gradually dangling, it descended to the floor, only to be trampled in the dust by the rabble.

The old man was put to bed. Poultices of apple b.u.t.ter, sweet-oil and a whitish-bluish clay dug from the bottom of the spring were applied to his blistered parts.

The taffy pulling party, the scene of gayety so suddenly transformed to one of suffering, lives in the memory of Alfred by the recollection of long threads of amber colored taffy shimmering in the soft moonlight as they clung to the plum tree branches where the old man's vigorous kicks had landed them.

It was maple sugar making time. Uncle Jacob Irons, who lived near Masontown fifteen miles away, had a large sugar grove. A visit to Uncle Jake's was always one continued round of pleasure. The staid uncle, jolly Aunt Bettie, Kate and Tillie, Joe and George, John and Wilson, were always delighted to have Alfred visit them.

It was a day that marked the pa.s.sing of winter and the coming of spring, after a night of light freezing with a white frost, the morning sun shining all the brighter that he had been hazed so long by winter's shadows. The earth, the trees, appeared even more brown and barren by contrast with the splendors of the sky. Here and there a patch of snow, left sheltered by tree or fence, seemingly endeavoring to hide from the sunbeams that came out of the south, to pour its flood of warmth on it until it melted and mouldered away.

It was springtime, the boyhood of the year, when half the world is rhyme and music is the other. It was springtime in the country, far from the city and the ways of men. The mountains in the distance, brown colored in spots, the peaks, like winter kings with beards of snow, seemed to say: "'Tis time for me to go northward o'er the icy rocks, northward o'er the sea. Come the spring with all its splendor, all its buds and all its blossoms, all its flowers and all its gra.s.ses."

It was a day that awakened feelings that seemed sacred. Have you ever lived in the country? Have you ever visited in the country in springtime? Have you ever asked yourself: "I wonder if the sap in the sugar trees is stirring yet? Is the sugar water dripping?" Have you ever worked in a sugar camp, such as there were in old Fayette County in those days?

Nearer the south than bleak New England, the trees more full of sap, the sap sweeter than it flows anywhere on earth. The trees in the camp tapped, the spiles driven, the sweet water dropping; the boys and girls, the men, yes, the women too, gathering the sap. The day is warm, the run a big one; to save it, all must hustle the big barrels loaded on the sleds as the horses move from one tree to another, turning over the mosses and dried leaves, exposing the Johnny-jump-ups and violets as if they were just peeping up through the ground at the busy scene.

The redbird is singing in the tree, his plumage all the brighter for the winter's bleaching. The day is not long enough, the night is consumed.

The boys from all the country about gather at the camp. The moon was a book and every star a word that read fun and frolic to the jolly crowd at the camp at Uncle Jake's that night.

Alfred sang songs, and told jokes.

They had sugared off, made a big kettle of sugar. Some dipped big spoonfuls of the thickened syrup from the kettle, and poured it slowly into tin cups filled with ice cold water. As it cooled the large lump of wax was pulled out of the water with the fingers. Some, with b.u.t.tered hands, worked the wax until they had whitish taffy, others filled their mouths with the wax as it came from the water.

The writer will engage to cure any case of stomach trouble that ever worried man or woman with this maple wax.

The night wore on, the fun flagged. Ben Paul, a husky country boy, proposed that two or three go to Nick Yonse's still house and procure a little "licker." Cousin Wilson frowned upon this proposal but as the boys were his guests he did not further protest. It was impossible to awaken anyone to get the matured article from the distillery; therefore, with the aid of a clothesline fastened to a jug which Ben lowered into a vat filled with corn juice distilled the day previous, a supply was secured. Ben returned to the camp. He was truthful when he explained that the offering he brought was no old stale stuff such as they were accustomed to, but something new and fresh.

Its newness did not deter the boys from helping themselves to big swigs from the jug, smoothing out their wry faces with draughts of sugar water. Cousin Wilson refused to partic.i.p.ate as he busied himself with his work. The sight of a tin cup made Alfred fearful that he would spill his sugar. He also declined. After the custom that had prevailed in the tavern cellar, the tin cup went round and round, the result was the same or nearly so as at the tavern. Some sang, others danced, one or two slept, some wanted to fight. Alfred attempted to pour melody on the troubled revellers but the only effect of his song was to encourage Ben Paul to knock the bottom out of a new tin pail endeavoring to keep time to the song as he had seen Alfred do with the tambourine.

Cousin John, unnoticed by Cousin Wilson, was chief among those who pa.s.sed the tin cup around. John was of a friendly disposition and, not to be rude to his guests, sent the cup around often. Several of the boys retired into the shadows of the trees just beyond the glare of the furnace fire to regret their mixing corn and sugar.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Night at the Sugar Camp]

Wilson plainly informed John that this thing had gone far enough. It was John's idea of courtesy, or rather his confused notion, that a host's guests should be permitted to conduct themselves as best suited their pleasure. Several of them wanted to fight. John said, "All right, let them fight." Wilson interfered.

John stepped out of the circle and invited any one or all present to come out. "Any of you excepting Alfred, he's all right. I can lick any of you with one hand tied behind my back," and John spat on both hands.

"Come out yer," he pleadingly invited Wilson, "or anyone excepting Alfred."

John, when he invited any or all of the others out, had evidently forgotten his courtesy to his guests or probably he desired to further increase their pleasure. Perhaps that was the way he reasoned it, as several had declared they would rather fight than eat. John did not wish them to go home feeling they had missed anything.

As a last request, John just pleaded with Wilson to step out. He seemed more anxious to have Wilson tackle him than any other. As a last declaration of what he wouldn't sacrifice to have Wilson step out, he concluded as he slapped his hands together: "Step out, ole feller, just step out yer. Will you? I'll fight you anyway, I'll fight you now. Come on; I don't care a dam if I have my Sunday pants on, I'll fight you anyhow."

The shouts of the boys could be heard re-echoing up and down the hollows as they wended their ways homeward. The moon had gone down, the night was darkened; it was nearly dawn. The fire had gone down in the furnace, the steam ceased to rise from the kettles, the hoot of the old night owl, after the scenes of the night, made it seem even more quiet.

How to get John into the house that Uncle Jake and the family, might not be awakened, concerned both Alfred and Wilson. To Alfred was delegated the task of conducting John home. John led quietly until a shout of laughter from those bringing up the rear was heard which he chose to construe as derision directed at him, and then he balked. Alfred would get him quieted and thus they finally reached the house.

Here John balked again. Alfred and Wilson were both over sensitive. If the folks discovered John's condition it would reflect upon them. Alfred greatly feared that Mrs. Young and Uncle Jake would blame him for John's downfall. They had about made up their minds to carry John to the barn and stow him away in the hay mow but it had turned uncomfortably cool and this plan was abandoned. Alfred opened the door leading to the stairs, partly pulling and pushing him upstairs. He landed John in the room, where he fell over on the bed.

John muttered and mumbled, flapping and flinging his arms wildly about his head--he arose to a sitting posture. Alfred endeavored to lay him down. His face and head were covered with cold perspiration. Alfred knew the symptoms of the distressing effects that follow the circulation of a tin cup. He hustled John out of bed. John floundered away from him in the darkness, and found his way into an unused room. Alfred could hear him but could not locate him. Groping his way in the darkness Alfred kept calling in a m.u.f.fled voice: "John, John, John, where are you? Come to me."

Just then the house seemed to shake from roof to cellar as John and his two hundred pounds fell over Uncle Jake's home-made sausage stuffer. The stuffer was ten feet long. Stuffer and John carried a big rocking chair, a tin boiler and several other reverberating pieces of household junk with them.

Ere Alfred could rescue John from the ma.s.s of ruins under and on which he was piled, John began to realize how difficult it is to retain what you have no matter how strongly you desire to do so. Alfred had to get out of hearing of John's sufferings to suppress his feeling. He felt very deeply for John from the very bottom of his stomach; in fact, the bottom of his stomach seemed disposed to come up. He endeavored to divert his thoughts but they went back to a tin cup, a wheel-barrow, cow's ears and other things.