S3 



ffHE SHITEPOKE 



OUR home farm consisted of two "eighties" that cor- 

 nered each other. The buildings were located on one, 

 the other was mostly pasture. Wymore's Branch, a beau- 

 tiful little creek in those days, cut across the pasture 

 "eighty," and a high hill rose abruptly from this creek on 

 one side while the other side was a low-lying bottom. A 

 slough ran lengthwise through this eighty, meeting the 

 creek just before it left the farm. There was a very 

 valuable spring in this slough which flowed as freely in 

 the dry time as it did in wet weather. Near the place 

 where the slough ran into the creek was an acre or two of 

 land that was usually swampy from the overflow of this 

 spring. The creek itself was deep enough to be the fa- 

 vorite fishing place of the small boys of the neighborhood, 

 and our best swimming hole was just at the lower edge 

 of our farm. 



We usually had a potato patch and garden truck growing 

 on the bottom land near this spring, and so business or 

 pleasure called me there several times a week throughout 

 the summer. Mother and I used to take our lunch and 

 walk down to this garden and spend the day. We did 

 plenty of work; but, wise woman that she was, mother 

 knew that the way to get plenty of work out of a small 



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