MEMORIES OF THE 



Being the youngest in the family, I was expected to take 

 orders from the seniors. If father said, "Boys, bring me the 

 crowbar from the sawmill" — and he usually did give such order 

 without specifying byname — John always turned to me with, 

 *'Hen., you put," and I did. To back up meant trouble. 

 Father always sustained him in his transmission of orders, and 

 besides that, he could lick me until I was fourteen or fifteen 

 years of age — in fact, he did give me more trouncings than my 

 father ever did; but I could argue the point and talk back to 

 him, which I could not with father. If one of my sisters called 

 me to "clipper" over to the "Huddle," two miles away, with a 

 note, package or letter, and I demurred on account of bad 

 roads, the weather, or any other to me apparently good cause, 

 an appeal to mother always resulted in her orders being 

 approved, usually in these words, "Henry, you mind Mary," 

 and that settled it. 



I am not saying that I was abused or injured by this kind 

 of discipline, neither was this service all upon compulsion; 

 indeed, I got my share of fun out of it. I kept both eyes and 

 ears open and generally knew what I was doing and what it 

 meant, and frequently became well posted on matters of public 

 and personal gossip, which gave me unusual interest in affairs 

 and considerable importance for a small boy. I tried to be 

 trustworthy in my capacity of either general or confidential 

 messenger, and with this reputation fairly established, I had 

 what at times was an enviable and almost disagreeable monop- 

 oly of the business, both at home and with the school-ma'ams 

 and big girls who attended the district school. 



I remember how one of my teachers took me into her confi- 

 dence as to her beau, to whom she wrote about every other day 

 all summer. No one else was allowed to stay after school and 



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