OLD HOMESTEAD 



rying it back to the other end, and so on all day, or till the jug 

 was empty. 



My brother-in-law, Willard Huson, was known as a thorough, 

 driving and successful farmer. He was held up as a pattern 

 and example to all boys, young men and others who desired to 

 be considered first-class workmen. He was, in western par- 

 lance, a ''rustler," and had the respect and admiration of all 

 the neighbors on account of his good judgment, energy and 

 success. 



He was changing work with us one week in June, and we 

 were all hoeing on the side hill. It was blistering hot weather, 

 and a scorching sun beat down with great intensity. To hoe 

 with Willard was a great honor to a boy who could keep up his 

 row, and I was doing it in good shape. 



He had his shirt-sleeves rolled up nearly to his shoulders. 

 It was his custom, and he had worn them so from early spring. 

 His arms were m.uscular, brown and hard. I felt that to be a 

 man, or have any standing as a farmer, I ought to roll up my 

 sleeves also ; so I did. My arms were white from my wrist up, 

 and the skin soft and tender as that of a woman. We were 

 working hard, and the hot sun was pouring down on us without 

 mercy. At noon my arms began to look red, itch and smart, 

 and by night they were badly burned and began to swell, but I 

 said nothing, for I was making a man of myself rapidly, without 

 the advice or help of any one. I went to bed without making 

 any complaint or report of their condition. By midnight they 

 ached so I could not sleep, and before morning I was almost 

 crazy with pain. In the morning the skin felt thick as a board, 

 and I could hardly bend my arms. 



Mother discovered the trouble and, calling me a foolish boy 

 for having burned them, rubbed them well with Mustang lini- 



69 



