EARLY MANHOOD IN THE MIDDLE WEST 109 



From the banks of picturesque Cayuga, from a 

 clean home and loving friends; to these muddy 

 ague-breeding prairie streets, this filthy hotel and 

 these unfriendly faces, was all to sudden-like. 



But when I had had a good wash-up and break- 

 fast, and when the fog had lifted, my new-found 

 country looked more attractive though it seemed 

 far too flat to my unaccustomed eyes. A walk of 

 about a mile brought me to the house of a Mr. 

 Allen where I found my old boss, Moyer, at work 

 with his white shirt-sleeves rolled up and his bright 

 red undershirt flaming among the white shavings. 

 The long ribbons that he sliced off the side of a 

 board were as beautiful to me in my homesickness 

 as those that had charmed me and given direction 

 to my life long before in my uncle's unfinished 

 house. By i o'clock of the same day I was work- 

 ing on the other side of the bench from that 

 patient, kind and expert Pennsylvanian. 



The cornice which we were preparing by 

 hand, millwork then being unknown was for a 

 house to be erected on one of Mr. Allen's farms 

 three miles away. One morning a gang of well 

 diggers passed on their way to sink a well on this 

 farm; upon seeing them returning about sun-down 

 of the same day I remarked that something must 



