At one time there was a cyclone passed across our farm which did much damage to trees, tearing off good sized oaks like splinters on the Neill farm, but doing no great damage at our home, except the complete destruction of a haystack west of the house. Father and I were out to look over the fences after the storm and found a freak of nature where timothy straws were driven into oak posts. It was so incredible that father and I made an agreement that if either of us told the story, the other would confirm it.
I write it down here while father is still with us so you may confirm the story if you wish to do so.
It would be impossible to enumerate the many little experiences like this in which father and son shared the life and experiences of the old farm, working, playing, planning and living together in the most delightful sort of way. I am afraid that not many boys are blest with as understanding a father as I was. The fact that he had for years been a school teacher made him so much better as a father.
To record this tribute to him here is a thing I have too long delayed to do. It is a great thing to have had such a father.