r hands as they stretched them out to the heat of
the stoves were cracked and red. It was difficult for
them to talk and so they for the most part kept silent.
When they had bought meat, flour, sugar, and salt, they
went into one of the Winesburg saloons and drank beer.
Under the influence of drink the naturally strong lusts
of their natures, kept suppressed by the heroic labor
of breaking up new ground, were released. A kind of
crude and animal-like poetic fervor took possession of
them. On the road home they stood up on the wagon seats
and shouted at the stars. Sometimes they fought long
and bitterly and at other times they broke forth into
songs. Once Enoch Bentley, the older one of the boys,
struck his father, old Tom Bentley, with the butt of a
teamster's whip, and the old man seemed likely to die.
For days Enoch lay hid in the straw in the loft of the
stable ready to flee if the result of his momentary
passion turned out to be murder. He was kept alive with
food brought by his mother, who also kept him informed
of the injured man's condition. When all turned out
well he emerged from his hiding place and went back to
the work of clearing land as though nothing had
happened.

* * *

The Civil War brought a sharp turn to the fortunes of
the Bentleys and was responsible for the rise of the
youngest son, Jesse. Enoch, Edward, Harry, and Will
Bentley all enlisted and before the long war ended they
were all killed. For a time after they went away to the
South, old Tom tried to run the place, but he was not
successful. When the last of the four had been killed
he sent word to Jesse that he would have to come home.

Then the mother, who had not been well for a year, died
suddenly, and the father became altogether discouraged.
He talked of selling the farm and moving into town. All
day he went about shaking his head and muttering. The
work in the fields was neglected and weeds grew high in
the corn. Old Tim hired men but he did not use them
intelligently. When they had gone away to the fields in
the morning he wandered into the woods and sat down on
a log. Sometimes he forgot to come home at night and
one of the daughters had to go in search of him.

When Jesse Bentley came home to the farm and began to
take charge of things he was a slight,
sensitive-looking man of twenty-two. At eighteen he
had left home to go to school to become a scholar and
eventually to become a minister of the Pre