AT LITTLE TRIANON

SEIFERT

Posted By: David (email)
Date: 12/9/2004 at 12:32:16

The Chariton Leader, Chariton, Iowa
Thursday, February 21, 1907

'AT LITTLE TRIANON'

A Sunday Visit to the Center of the Social Realm.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

A couple of weeks since the Chariton Herald had the following note prominent
among its society items:

"Yengel Brothers have completed a new slaughter house, in the hollow
southeast of the Chariton Cemetery. It is built of concrete blocks, and
will be supplied with fresh well water throughout by a windmill water system
A pond has been constructed above the house, and ice from the pond can be
slid directly into the cold storage of the building, without hauling. The
cold storage will have a capacity for from 75 to 100 dressed beeves."

At first this did not strike The Leader as being the proper place for the
above but after more mature deliberation concluded that Sam must be right
about it, he being authority on social amenities, besides a well turned
beefsteak appeals more to the general public than the formalities of bows or
cultured words filled with honied accents -- especially when one is hungry
-- and our respected contemporary never seizes his pen with his fine Italian
hand except in his seasons of fastings and -- we were going to say prayer,
but perhaps that would not strictly be adhering to the facts. After a
fortnight's debate and unappeased curiosity the writer concluded to go out
Sunday and investigate for himself and is enabled to inform the people that
the Herald's report was correct and they can now accept it with this
corroboration.

The bells in the steeples were tolling for worship and the sun was shining
brightly as the procession, consisting of the writer and his speckled dog of
the small breed, started on the meandering trail. Space forbids a
description of the scenery passed through, but surely this "Little Trianon,"
as Sam would designate it, is in a most sightly place. A broad valley
sweeps to the southwest and wooded hills roll away in the distance. Strains
of a harp, as we approached, wafted on the breezes, accompanied by human
voice in song. It seems that our contemporary had preceded us and was
perched up under the canopy singing to the assembled live stock awaiting the
slaughter, "There is no death; it is transition." We have no evidence that
he had been employed by the Yengel Bros., but surmise he took it upon
himself to fool the dumb brutes, and they all seemed anxious for the
guillotine.

A THOUSAND CATTLE ON A HILL

To the south a short distance, a huge mound arises abruptly from the
surrounding levels to a magnificent altitude and is covered with the finest
of winter forage. On this mound a thousand cattle grazed, while far beneath
the surface, no doubt, lies the remains and archives of a prehistoric race
of human beings. Surely it must be the sepulchre of some romantic type of
men. Some day we will join a company of rollicksome dare devils, go out
there with a spade -- and a full euchre deck -- and lay bare to the world
their bones and hidden secrets. But we digress. On this occasion the swine
and goats and sheep had joined in a cowtillion and joy was unconfined except
by the new wire fences which enclose the scene. If at any time you wish to
while away an hour or so in day dreams, mingle with kine whose days are
numbered, or watch the birds hover over the shadows in the glen, walk out to
the slaughter house -- unattended and alone, save by man's best friend --
your dog.

EFFICACY OF MEDICINE SPRING

The casual visitor might form the impression that Chariton is in the midst
of uninteresting environs. But such is not the case. A stroll through
South Park is all that is necessary to convince. On returning to the
populous city from "The Little Trianon" the nearest route lies through the
park, though one is in danger of getting lost in the fastnesses unless able
to keep his directions. You enter the park about midway between the main
highway and a live oak grove. This is the best ingress because the bears
seldom frequent this part of the preserve, besides it offers more of natural
scenery. To the north is the confluence of the rivulets and the glaciers
abound in a fantasma, which beggars description. You pass on, and over to
the north edge the arts of man have left their imprint. Directly your eye
is attracted by a splendid piece of lettering on a board, nailed against a
tree: "Medicine Spring." What the curative virtue of this spring is at this
time we are unable to say, but it is to be hoped the "patent medicine
committee," of the Iowa Legislature, will not attempt to deflect its waters.
A denizon told us that he once stooped and drank from the spring and within
an hour his false teeth had adhered to his palates, circulation was forced
through the rubberoid plates, and they became natural forthwith. He didn't
look like a liar, though he might have been. But this we do have to say.
Our speckled dog of immature size wandered too near the bank, saw his
reflection, and thinking he was being mocked, sprang in for a fight. It was
with difficulty he was rescued and in doing so the right hand was baptized
in the life preserving flow. This quickened circulation and that member is
now twice the usual size, a little awkward but good and sufficient evidence
every time a handshake is given. Some day more time will be taken and a
thorough exploration made, but the hour had come to pass on. Hardly had we
reached the vicinity of the Spring Lake water tank when a mighty panting in
the rear attracted attention and on looking back was horrified by the
pursuit of a hoary old lion with a huge main and poised ears. Who wouldn't
have been frightened? Not a muscle moved. The lion approached with open
jaws. Those ivory teeth shone as formidable as knives in a sausage mill.
Oh, why did we go to the park alone and without a gun! Then all turned dark
and resignation was made for the ordeal. When sensibilities returned the
lion stood over the prostrate form wagging its tail and licking the explorer
in the face. It was only the speckled pup which had fallen into "Medicine
Spring."
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Copied by Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert
November 29, 2004
iggy29@rnetinc.net