OUT OF THE PAST
Squire Cauley

I wonder how many left there who would remember a kindly be-whiskered old
gentleman by the name of Squire CAULEY. The Squire lived in a little log cabin on the
extreme Northeast corner of Ben THOMPSON's farm on the main highway.
I never knew where he came form or any of his previous background. We just
knew that he was very interesting character and we would stop in at his place in the
afternoons on the way from school and listen to his stories of which he seemed to have
an endless variety. His cabin was small and quite neatly kept and he always had a small
garden. There was one thing he was particularly adept at and that was baked beans. The
secret of those beans was that they were baked in a bean hole in the front yard. He would
put a bed of hot coals in the hole and set the old iron kettle on them and cover it all up an
let them bake. Many times I have partaken of those delicious beans that were second to
no other beans in the world except Mrs. MEEK'S beans.
We always looked forward t seeing him sitting on a bench inform of his cabin. He
would be sitting there smoking the old clay and briar pipes, Adams Standard smoke
curling therefrom.
Sometimes he would get a job looking after logging camps. One summer my
Father had him look after his camps over west of town on Rocky Run. There was the
usual camp outfit. The oxen were usually left there also. There were also lots of
blackberries in the slashings so my Mother... Aunt and cousin and one or two others went
over to pick them. The Squire had the usual tobacco box of Adams Standard and some of
his old pipes laying beside it and my cousin and I watched our chance and each took a pipe
and filled it and went into the men's bunkhouse and up in an upper bunk and started
smoking. I remember we had tried smoking before bit something happened that day and it
was not long before the old cabin took to rolling and rolling like a terrible heavy sea. I
can't remember if I was ever so sick in my life and my cousin seemed to be in about the
same condition. Well, we went outside the snack and my Aunt found us doubled up on a
bench and took pity on us and rummaged around the cook shack and found some liniment
or something and made us the familiar drink called painkiller and then we speedily
recovered. It would seem that once would be sufficient to try such but youth recovers
swiftly. I don t think that the youth of today can realize the power in those old pipes
permeated with Adams Standard tobacco. It has the kick of about two big Missouri
mules.
Finally that old log cabin of the Squire's was empty. There would be a cow
standing looking out the door calmly chewing her cud but it was not hard to see her fade
away and still see the old Squire sitting on his bench calmly smoking his old clay pipe.

SOURCE: Greenwood Gleaner 27 OCT 1954 Smith H. Miller (LaConner, WA)