1925 — 100 years ago

He was a wayside traveler, picturesquely attired in remnants of several suits of clothes which looked as though they might have been pilfered from a scarecrow. Over his shoulder was slung the usual blanket roll of the itinerant worker. Slowly he toiled his way up the Rowena loops. It was a hot day. Perspiration dripped from his forehead. Each time the hum of a motor was heard he would turn and glance hopefully at the driver. One by one the cars passed him up. Then came a kind hearted motorist, who also realized that the day was hot.