The Connecticut courant and Hartford weekly intelligencer — Hartford, Conn., 1778-01-27 00:00:00, page 1

A FARMER just return'd from Meeting on
Thanksgiving-Day.
PROLOG U E.
rq°o night the muse attempts to foow
L The miser and the awkward beau ;
Where Dan and Joth. together join.
On sumptuous difo with father dine.
While mother foe the table sets,
Both Sal. and Mat. affft her next ;
Next Lyon he puts in bis claim.
And mother thinks him much to blame.
She in apaffion gives a kick,
Father he being fond of Jack,
Permitted the poor puppy in,
To lap tbe gravy fpilt—-quite clean.
Ma/ter and Jack always agreed,
He taught him well to fay bis creed,
And all tbe words that e'er they bad.
Was paper money's being bad.
Master inJifts, and makes it so,
That paper money wou'd not do;
Jack be injifts, and fays no more.
But such examples burts thepoor.]
_ ^ACK, take care of the horses,
armer. J ^ ve , em f omeo f t h at b e st rowen.
Jack. Yeffe, Sir.
Jonathan. Well, how does father do ?---
and all your folks ?---'tis quite cold.
Farmer. Why thank ye child, how do
you do ?— Mat. draw a mug of cyder, put
a good stout pepper pod in't, heat it well---
I feel quite chilly myself Why I have got
good cyder enough ; and this year intend to
take care of't. Why Jonathan I have been
offered five dollars a barrel, and wouldn't
look at it, it will fetch me fifteen in the
spring.
Jonathan. Yes, father, that it will, and
that wont be near so dear as rum is now in
town ; I am glad we can fay this of the
town folks, that we are even with them now,
only that we should have fix Continental
dollars for a load of wood, I'll fell no more
for five, I know.
Farmer. Never fear, never fear, Jona
than, the times are now in our hands, and if
we don't improve this opportunity I don't
fee which way in the world we could ever
answer to ourselves with a good conscience.
Hem. Daughter Sarah my service t'ye.
Sarah. Thank'e, pray father.
Jotbam. Father your health ; Mother
yours ; hereft'e all. [Drinks.) This is right
down good cyder as ever man needs drink.
Sarah. Yes, Jotbam, 'tis, and mother's
pudding looks charming too.
Mat. Come father dinner's ready.
Wife. Come you do fit down, all fit
down, fit down, the pudding will get cold,
and then 'twill be good for nothing.
Farmer. Well come let's crave a blessing.
I Tbe Farmer proceeds to crave a blessing; in the
run of which he pities tbe poor and needy thro'out
tbe world. |
Wife. Come cut for yourselves, I am
quite alhamed of my pudding ; I think it is
the poorest that ever I made; however I
CONNECTICUT
TUESDAY, %%% *7, !„I
Containing the Freiheit ADVICES
Printed and Published by WATSON and GOODWIN, near the GREAT BRIDGE.
WEEKLY
AND
,t THE
|*4!re!lll^^•
IrafflUra^^O^'
don't care, as the times is I believe the town
folks wou'd jump at a bit on't poor as it is.
Sarab. Why 'tis said that fcornful dogs
sometimes jump at a dirty pudding.
Wife. Why Sarah! I'm sure my pudding
isn't dirty, I never was reckoned a slut in all
my life.
Sarah. Oh mother ! I don't mean so, on
ly that the town folks us'd to scorn every
thing but the best, but now they'd be glad
even of a cruft of your pudding. I expert
some of 'em along to morrow or next day
begging as the Indians us'd to do the day
after thankfeiving. I can't but laugh to
fee how foolifh they'll look—He !he ! he!
Wife. Ha ! ha! ha! It wou'd be a pretty
fight too, Sarah. Ha! ha ha!
Farmer. Ha! ha l ha! Well I can't but
laugh too. Ha ! ha ! ha! Draw another mug
of cyder ; take two cups with you.
Jack. Well maffer, I don't tink tis fair
ting when poor fok he canno get noting in
he belly; Maffer every ting, I do no what
maffer mean ; he pray, he pray, he telle Lord
he pity poor ebery where; he no give, he
no felle ; What he du? Maffer got rye
enuf, cyder enuff, ebery ting enuf; Jack he
trash, he trash, dis bin full, dat bin full,
ebery bin full, poor fok he no lette have
what he du, what poor fok du ; ah maffer!
Jack pity P oor f°k.
Farmer; Why you black bastard ha'n't
you victuals enough to stop your mouth ?
Jack. Yeffe, Sir, only pity poor fok cause
he got no round dollar.
Dan. Well what's that to you whether
'tis round or square so you live well ? there's
a hundred mechanicks don't live half so well
as you do.
"Jack. Ino dat, maffer.
Wife. Ido wish our Jack wou'd mind his
own business, and not be always a talking of
things that don't concern him at all.
Farmer. Come wife bring on the goose,
else I fha'nt have no room for't ; I've been
oblig'd to unbutton to let in the beef-
Come who among you can remember the
text ?—Take care ! don't grease my sabbath
day coat, you.
Jotbam. I can't remember the chapter ex
actly, father, but I think the words was this,
A cab of dove's dung was fold for -I
forgot for how much—but our minister
preach'd quite a good sermon, and stuck
right down well to his text.
Sarah. I thought he feem'd greatly af
fefted, but my child was so tenfome, and
made such a noise, I cou'dn't tell head nor
tail of the sermon, only that he had one very
good proof.
Farmer. Why what was that daughter
Sarah ?
Sarah. It was this, pray father, that He
that witbbcldetb the corn tbe people Jball curse him.
Dan. Does that mean so, father ? I think
I've heard father fay, that he would not fell
any if they were to live on potatoes as the
Irish do.
Farmer. Why children ! children ! don't you
know there's a spiritual meaning to the words which
we have heard to day ? [a neftling.] Hem! hem!--,
why when Joseph's brethren went down into Egypt to
buy corn—^why hem !---they carried silver and gold
---hem !---and corn was fold for nothing else in scrip
ture times. Hem !---now the true scriptural meaning
is---hem !---why if poor people come and bring me
hard money---hem ! and I refufe them why then I'm
to be curs d, but if they have no hard money---hem !
---Im not oblig'd to let them have anv. I choose to
go always by the true meaning of the bible boys.
Dan. I think 1 have heard father fay that a fouara
dollar was as good as a round one and I do really think
it is, if we wou'd do what our Hartford paper tells us.
I don t remember much on't tho'; but think he called
It, A Looking Glass.
Farmer. Ay! well I remember something of't
too ,--why I'll tell ye Dan ; I have said th^ it was as
good to pay rates with as any but nothing more ; I
have got enough for that-—why fhon'd we'e a 'pend
ing our breath about that which will be of no service
to us. Come let's dismiss the table.
Wife. Ay true enough you, I think it is very
needless; do return thanks. Children be still!
[Here he proceeds, &c.]
Farmer. Well toys, I feel mightily refrefh'd.
Come Dan. Joth tome go out to the barn along
with me and fee the oxen I intend to stall feed this
year, better I believe you never saw.
Joth. Come so we will, father. Come Dan. ) r
Dan. Comes on ttm. | Exe ^ nt#
Mat. Well, sister Sarah, now father's gone I'll tell
y° u what.
Sarah. Well what ?
Mat. Didn't you fee our Lyon get hold ofthe goose's
ta il ? Mother fecth'd him a good kick": Father roll'd
his eyes, but c'u'dn's speak, because he was making
a beginning, He! he! he!
Sarah. Well I fhon'd laugh'd too if I had seen it.
He! he! he! Be still! Father's coming.
Farmer. Well girls how do you feel after din
ner ? Come make room! the boys and I have been
out to fee my oxen better you never saw Dan. Say,
Joth. don't you think they'll fetch me five pounds a
hundred by next spring?
Dan. Yes. Father that they will if the town
folks don't rife and take them away, and I am blood
dy 'fraid they will ; and if they should I doubt but
the authority will juftify them in't.
Farmer Why so why so Dan?
Dan. Because the most of 'em in't able to buy at
that price.
Wife. That wou'd be a fine thing for themfto come
and take our things without liberty from us.
Farmer. If they should I flail 'em.
Jotham. Well father I believe I must go.
Farmer. Jack fetch up the horse.
Jack Yeffe. maffer.
Farmer. Come boys fit down : let's have one good
song before you go and part in peace, as we ought
to do on thanksgiving day.
Jotham. Well that's done father: do begin, and
Dan and I will sing chorus—what fay Dan !
Dan. With all my heart.
Farmer. Comes en then.
Joth. Father be short I want to go.
Farmer. Ay, ay—-mind the chorus. He, he hem,
ACabe of dove's dung on a time it was fold
For nothing more short than silver and gold,
Silver and gold silver and gold, Chorus;
For nothing short of silver and gold.
No but Jack wou'd persuade and make us think so,
That I am to blame and you my fo^s too.
You my Tons too you my sons too. Chorus.
That I am to blame and you my sons too.
But now to conclude and I bid you good night;
I wish you well home and sea good night
So a good night so a good night Chorus
1 wiih you well home and then a good night.
INTELLIGENCER.
Both FOREIGN and DOMESTIC.
COURANT,
HARTFORD
N U MBE R 6 79 .