We did enjoy it to the full. It was so sensible, so strong and practical, and full of a certain hope, assurance. And what gave us a greater delight was these few words on the inside, in the column of queries and items.
"Will John Farmer please send his address to this office? We commend his article heartily to our readers."
"We won't shout it out on the housetops yet. Roofs are too slippery to climb," and father laughed.
It was the best medicine he had for weeks. The sudden interest in a new channel, taking him out of his dreary waiting, strengthened heart and brain, if not body. It was a new resource.
The inquiry was answered, and to our surprise brought Mr. Wright himself. He spent a whole morning with father, and had really known considerable about father's work and success. He was a most delightful man, and years afterward I appreciated him and his work more truly than any unformed girl could have done.
He asked father then to go on writing, to give his experiences and advice. He, too, had boundless ambitions for Chicago, and his was the larger insight for education and broader movements.
His sympathy was very cheering as well. He put new heart into father. And though less than a year afterward he was compelled by the stress of other matters, fully as important, to transfer the editorial helm to the Reverend Ambrose Wight, one letter in the name was not to make much difference. It was conducted with the same untiring zeal for local advancement, the same strong common sense and sterling integrity. Father had a warm friendship with him through a sorrowful time, and Ben Hayne found in him a splendid practical adviser.
And so spring opened. Father had some crutches and began to go out a little. But the streets were still in a dreadful condition, though now strenuous efforts were being made for some kind of pavements and sidewalks. As many people had raised their sidewalks two and three feet it was resolved to establish this grade. New houses were being built. Homer was rushed with business, and he wished Ben wasn't so booky. As a firm they could make no end of money just now. It was hard to find good workmen.
CHAPTER XIV
A TURN IN THE LANE
Poor father! My heart ached sorely for him. He suffered with his hip, and his leg was useless. He was still kept bandaged, and we hoped presently some improvement would happen to the joint. It was bitterly hard when he had been so active, so light of foot, so full of energy and hope. If it had not been for his writing now and then, I think he would have lost heart entirely.