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JOHN A. HOWLAND'S MEMOIR ON RILEY

Part 2

"As us boys ust to be."

Few poets have been so essentially local as Riley in subjects and treatment. Burns was and that fact may account for the frequent com­parison of one man with the other. Few poets have reflected their early lives, sur­roundings and associates so completely as the Indiana writer.

Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, in 1852, the second son of Reuben A.7T Riley, an attorney. His pareh-f-, him the name of James Whitcomb the townspeople changed to "Jim," as soon as the tow headed boy appeared on the streets of the small town and be­came known.

At this time it was a small village. At the time of Riley's young manhood it

was a town of 1,200 inhabitant national road from Washington Louis passed through it and it was in small cottage facing this thoroughfare that the poet was born.

His father, without regard to what fate had in store for the boy had ordained that he was destined for law. The rebel­lion came and the father recruited a com­pany for the Eighth Indiana infantry in which he was commissioned as captain. After the three months' service for which the company had been raised Mr. Riley re-enlisted for three years in the Fifth In­diana cavalry.

When he came back to Greenfield, James Whitcomb, his son and successor­to-be  in legal p ^.actice, was a rapidly growing boy with a tendency to be out of buttons constantly and with a further tendency to escape from the school house and spend the day lolling on the banks of the Brandywine with a fishing pole " set " on a stone. The same boy had a capacity for chewing tobacco which was the admiration c,f his associates.

" Tired 'o fishin'—tired 'o fun—line out slack and slacker

"All you want in all the world's a little more to-backer."

His life was the life of every boy in a small middle west town. It is because he has portrayed this and because his reader discovers himself in the portrayal that he has reached the multitudes.

He had the swimming hole that every American boy has found. He hunted the fields for bees' nests. He risked the wrath of hornets, poking down their homes for the excitement of the wild scamper when the ruin had been accomplished. He hunted "chipmunks." He indulged sur‑

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THE OLD SWIMMIN' HOLE.(Railroad bridge to the North)

"When the crick so still and deep

"Looked like a baby river that was lying half asleep."

reptitiously in the joys of corn silk cigar­ettes. He raided orchards.

He was a small tow headed boy, with, as has been said, few buttons and many pins to hold his clothes together. There is a legend prevailing in Greenfield which jars the swimming hole devotion which Riley is supposed to have nourished. It is related that the boy seldom went in the water with the other youngsters, but pre­ferred to sit on the bank of the Brandy­wine and watch their antics in the water.

The mother of a Greenfield hopeful, receiving her son one evening when his hair still was wet from the swimming hole, noticed that Jim evidently had not been in the water.

"Jim," she said, " Why don't you go in swimming with the other boys ?"

"Well, I'll tell you," said the boy slowly, " I ain't got many buttons on my clothes and I'm ashamed to take out all these pins when the other boys is look­ing."

That story, no doubt, is apocryphal. His mother was burdened with many

cares, but it is doubtful if she neglected "Jim's" buttons.

Whether Riley was or was not a de­votee of the swimming hole is an imma­terial matter. He caught the spirit of i t at least. Greenfield now relates this old-time conversation with the idea of show­ing that Riley had more than the aver­age boy's abandon in matters of dress.

It would have been disconcerting to the father if he had known his son's am­bitions. Instead of longing for legal fame Jim wanted to be a baker. That was his first feverish ambition.

" That seemed to my childish mind to be the acme of delight," he said on one occasion, " to be able to manufacture those snowy loaves of bread, those delicious tarts, those toothsome bonbons. And then to own them all, to keep them in a store, to watch over them and carefully exhibit them. The thought of obtaining money from the sale of them was a sac­rilege to me. Sell them ? No indeed. Eat them; eat them by the tray load and dray load. It was a great wonder with me why the pale faced baker in our town

did not eat all his good things. This I determined to do when I became master of such a grand establishment. Yes, sir ; I would have a glorious feast. Maybe I'd have Tom and Harry and perhaps little Kate and Florry in to help us once in a while. I have a sweet tooth today."

Some one some day will analyze the ambitions of childhood and it will be found that the earliest ones are connected with something to eat and the next with the idea of killing things.

Riley's ambition which followed the bun and cake one, was to beat the snare drum in a military band. This was not an ambition to be killing something but it was warlike. He wanted to dangle his legs over the tailboard of a band wagon and play the drum. He did not envy the man who puffed out his cheeks in a strug­gle with the trombone. He envied the snare drummer.

The baker ambition was destined

THE NEW GENERATION IN GREEN- FIELD.

" They's room for the children to play and to grow."

never to be realized. The snare drum, however, did enter into Riley's life later in years. He had other dreams. He wanted to be a showman —the man who drove ahead of the circus parade in a little wagon. If he should fail in this ambition he wanted to be the man who drove the horses of the lion's cage. If possible, he wanted to own the golden chariots, the big tents, the beautiful horses for the beautiful princesses and the red lemonade which the circus men sold.

Then again, if fortune failed him and he could not be the man who owned the circus or the man who drove the lion's wagon he wanted to be a clown or a bare­back rider. He would be the funniest clown that ever lived.

There was a result to this dream. He, with George Carr, now Mayor of Greenfield, organized a theatrical troupe and gave matinee performances in the "Doc" Hall barn. The admission was twenty-five pins and Riley was extremely cautious about the box office receipts.

Mayor Carr declares that if a boy ap

MAYOR GEOKGE CARR,
of Greenfield.
One of Riley's early friends.

,

plied fox a /SS/0 with twenty-four

straight pips end o e bent one Riley im­mediately seat him home for a straight one in place of the crooked.

"Riley said they couldn't work off any bad money on him," said Mr. Carr.

These performances were highly suc­cessful both from a financial and an ar­tistic viewpoint. Riley had a bent to­wards the stage, which was gratified amateurishly later in life, and his youth­ful show career was phenomenal.

At the close of the season the treasury was found to contain three quarts of pins. Another partner having been taken in the show business these pins were divided equally and the company disbanded.

After the circus ambition had faded away with the baker dream, Riley de­cided to become a great artist. He would be modest at first. House painting would afford a start and after that he would paint portraits. An uncle was an artist

Riley's boyhood home in Greenfield.

and this fact probably accounts for desire to be a painter.

To lay a foundation for his future success he pounded several bricks to a red dust from which he made a paste. Then he went to work. He drew pictures of everything and everybody with whom he came in contact. For canvasses he used the neighbors' fences and barns. These good people, finding their premises fan­tastically decorated, discovered the artist and reported his progress to his father.

Their c,mplaints fell on willing soil. Mr. Riley had observed with pain that his own barn and fences were at the mercy of some unknown genius whose thoughts found expression in red brick paste, smeared in quaint designs, and he had longed to become acquainted with the artist. The fact that portraits, which might have passed without recognition had it not been for the legends beneath them, were among the designs, added to the general displeasure of the community. Jim's artistic career came to an untimely end.

In young Riley's days there was no disposition to spoil the child by sparing the rod. The latter was selected for wear­ing qualities. A ramrod was a favorite weapon of fathers in the neighborhood, there being a plentiful supply of these instruments after the war.

Riley and Carr had converted a hay rick into a robbers' castle on one occasion by excavating a cave, carefully hidden in the hay. To this den they dragged their booty, generally something edible from the surrounding farms. Carr's grandfather had a field of cantaloupes in which he took gre pride. This was a orite        and for the bandits.

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JOHN DAVIS,
One of Ri1ey's boyhood friends.

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One.afternoon the.two of use had just hidden themselves in their cave with their arms full of melons when they heard a dreaded voice, calling:

"George, George."

The tone was stern and forbidding. Riley arose to the occasion with a bit of strategy.

" You stay in here," he whispered to Carr. "Maybe he only saw me. I'll get out and dig and you can stay till he goes away."

The unsuspecting Carr consented to

this arrangement. Riley prepared for a

dash for liberty. Mr. Carr, the elder,

ramrod ready, was guarding the opening

to the rick. As Riley scampered out^. he received one cut which raised a welt. Carr was left to face the music, alone and unsupported. While the other bandit raced across the fields at an accelerated pace, Grandfather Carr reached within, the rick and dragged forth the other re­luctant highwayman.

Thereupon it became appar

CONTINUE TO PART 3