22 AUTUMN NOTES IN IOWA 



for sketch or story, crude as that life may be in 

 some aspects. On the night of our visit, a sombre 

 pleading from the pulpit was reinforced by abun- 

 dant shouts, groans and wailings from restless 

 men and women in the congregation. Timid young 

 country girls and roguish farm lads added other 

 tones of local color. All in all, it was a relief to 

 leave the gloomy little room, dimly lighted by 

 kerosene lamps, the people feverishly concerned 

 with matters of medieval theology, and to pass in- 

 to the wide calm of the autumnal night, under the 

 brilliance of the abiding stars. 



Yesterday, rain, rain, rain. After a morning's 

 work along the line and an afternoon of indoor 

 wrestling with '^estimates,'' we fell asleep with 

 the rain still pattering on the roof above the low 

 farmhouse chamber. It has been a month of some- 

 what heavy rainfall. Ten days ago, after a night 

 of steady pouring, we tramped about fifteen miles, 

 to and from our work, along muddy roads and 

 across soggy fields. How the transit tripod can 

 bruise one's shoulder on the last homeward mile 

 after a hard day ! That night we came dragging 

 into the yard pretty well fagged, but we had 

 helped to establish a new Iowa town. Where a 

 few weeks before stretched only the wide farm 

 fields, there are now at least plotted streets and 

 lots, the staked line of a side-switch, and an ele- 

 vator and blacksmith shop actually built. Quim- 



