Watch Yourself Go By | Page 9

dripping wet and tied in knots as tight as two big, strong boys could pull them. The pantalets were first unraveled, reversed, pulled over the sand-covered limbs of the boy, the waist wrapped about his shoulders, (the knots in the sleeves could not be untied), his hat pushed down on his head owing to the arrangement of his hair until it rested on his ears.
The procession started homeward, up alleys, through back yards to prevent being seen by the neighbors, until Lin hoisted the boy over the fence at the lower end of the garden. The whole family had congregated in the back yard, all greatly disturbed over "Al-f-u-r-d's" absence. As he dropped into the garden from the top of the fence he began crying, as was his wont, to create sympathy.
[Illustration: Lin and "Al-f-u-r-d"]
As he wended his way up the garden walk, the mother shouted:
"Lin, where on earth has he been?"
"In the river over his head. It's a wonder he wern't drowned to death."
The mother breathed a silent prayer that he had been preserved to them. Father deftly slid his hand into his left side trouser's pocket and, pulling forth a keen-bladed knife, cut a slender, but tough, sprout from the black-heart cherry tree. Tenderly taking the boy by the arm, he slowly led him to the cellar and introduced another innovation into the fast unfolding life of the First Born.
The pilgrimages of father and son to the recesses of that dark, damp cellar became frequent. The innovations of town life were so many, "Al-f-u-r-d's" unknowing feet fell into so many pitfalls, the father, affectionate, even indulgent, felt he was in duty bound to use the rod.
In fact, the old cellar, the rod, the boy and the father, were a cause of comment among those familiar with the family. Uncle Jake said:
"John never asked what 'Al-f-u-r-d' had done when he returned home, but simply asked, 'Where is he?' escorting him to the cellar and chastizing him on general principles."
Lin said: "Habits will grow on peepul, and even when 'Al-f-u-r-d' does nothin', he jes' goes to the cellar and waits to be whipped."
CHAPTER FOUR
From the sweet-smelling Maryland meadows it crawled, Through the forest primeval, o'er hills granite-walled; On and up, up and on, till it conquered the crest Of the mountains--and wound away into the West. 'Twas the Highway of Hope! And the pilgrims who trod It were Lords of the Woodland and Sons of the Sod; And the hope of their hearts was to win an abode At the end--the far end of the National Road.
Brownsville.
Do you not know where it is located? Do not ask any human being who ever lived in Brownsville as to its location on the map--that is, if you value his friendship. Your ignorance of geography will be exposed and you will be plainly informed: "We do not want anything to do with a person who does not know where Brownsville is located."
[Illustration: Market Street, Brownsville]
Strange as it may seem, though many excellent histories have been written, there is none extant that has given any full and adequate description of Brownsville's early days and people--quaint, curious, serious, humorous, wise and otherwise--good people all.
Brownsville was the most important town on that "Modern Appian Way," the National Road, or pike, extending from Baltimore, Maryland, to the Ohio River, and lengthened beyond, in after years, to Cincinnati and Richmond, Indiana.
Brownsville was founded soon after this country gained its independence, although it had been an established frontier post long before known as Red Stone Old Fort. It was the center of the Whiskey Insurrection, during which George Washington gained his first military experience in the West, experience that would have saved Braddock's defeat and death, had he taken Washington's advice, and might have changed the entire history of this nation. But that England should control the American colonies is but repeating history.
England is the only country in the world that has successfully colonized her foreign possessions. Therefore, Brownsville was founded, and mostly settled, by the English, and to this day her foremost citizens are Englishmen. This statement of facts does not detract from the estimable qualities of the Low Dutch who have drifted in from Bedford and Somerset Counties.
Brownsville outputs--"Monongahela Rye Whiskey" and Chattland's crackers are world-famous food essentials.
Brownsville was at the head of navigation on the Monongahela River in the palmy days of the old "pike."
Unlike the Appian Way, of which there is no connected history but only glimpses of it in the Bible, the old "pike" is embalmed in history, in poem and prose. It commemorates an epoch in history as fascinating as any recorded. A highway so important, so largely instrumental in the country's early greatness and development that it strengthened the ties between the states and their peoples. Its legends so numerous, its incidents