The first morning after I had made this simple arrangement I invited
the doubting farmer to watch the old squat schoolhouse from a window
that overlooked it, to see if a good smoke did not rise from the
stovepipe. Sure enough, on the minute, he saw a tall column curling
gracefully up through the frosty air, but instead of congratulating me
on my success he solemnly shook his head and said in a hollow,
lugubrious voice, "Young man, you will be setting fire to the
schoolhouse." All winter long that faithful clock fire never failed,
and by the time I got to the schoolhouse the stove was usually
red-hot.
At the beginning of the long summer vacations I returned to the
Hickory Hill farm to earn the means in the harvest-fields to continue
my University course, walking all the way to save railroad fares. And
although I cradled four acres of wheat a day, I made the long, hard,
sweaty day's work still longer and harder by keeping up my study of
plants. At the noon hour I collected a large handful, put them in
water to keep them fresh, and after supper got to work on them and sat
up till after midnight, analyzing and classifying, thus leaving only
four hours for sleep; and by the end of the first year, after taking
up botany, I knew the principal flowering plants of the region.
Pages:
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260