Five weeks later we left for the north on our wedding tour, and the first place we made any lengthened stay was at the old homestead, where I had passed the first years of my life. The old folks were still alive and welcomed us with open arms.
Prosperity had been with them as well; but, alas, they showed too well the ravages of time and the marks left by labor. They were aged even beyond their years, while for Mattie and I time had seemed to stand still.
We went to “meeting,” now held in a beautiful little church, instead of the old school house. The boys I had played with in my youth were there, grown into men, many of them old before their time. When I looked around I could see in every bent back, knotted hand and furrowed brow what I might have grown into, and shuddered. Father probably understood my thoughts, for on the way home, when I told him what money I had made, he said, “I am not sure, Jim, but perhaps you are right. At least I can see what you might have done had you stayed on the farm. And, Jim, your wife is charming.”
One day while in Chicago I said to my wife:
“Mattie, do you remember the circumstance of a man calling on you a number of years ago who said he was a corn doctor and the awful mess he made in treating your foot?”
“Do I remember him?” and her wrath seemed to rise at the thought. “I should say I do, and I would like to treat him—with—a dip in the lake.”
“Then, throw your husband in,” I said, looking her straight in the face; “I am that corn doctor.”
She was so surprised at my answer that she could not say a word, but sat staring at me with wide open eyes. There we sat for some moments, looking into each other’s faces, until both broke into a long and hearty laugh.
All this occurred some years ago, and I don’t think my wife has altogether overcome the desire to give me a dip in the lake. At any rate, if I ever happen to displease her she says she thinks the time is surely coming to carry out her threat.
I am now a happy and prosperous man. My family enjoys all of the comforts and many of the luxuries of life, and the sound of the wolf growling at the door is only a distant echo, reminding me that once at times I was destitute, and that I should not forget those who are unfortunate now.