The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1865-05-10

timc-saving, pains-sparing customs Of our
ancestors. Breakfast-we couldn't stop
for that besides huge, greasy, brown
paper handle unler Nathans arm meant
something. 4 know, cheese AMI ginger
bread. Hannah told ho, said Benny in
IN unlcrtone. The key. with tn Ielth-
cln handle, was greater mystery but
Benny was a philosopher, AMI pointing
to the Ains sNarminG arJml tn, ~pIlt,
confidently as.ctt,l that It must contain
some savory drink
The smallest rakcs were lai aside for
the new hands, rs our granitathcr irco-e-
ly called Us, and we soon ceased to b.
no\ices In the art of 'raking after To
he sure our litili fist grew rel and rat CT
speckled; but then Benny said they
would soon be Tough like .ionathai.'s, nd
the fun OF tretding down ihe sweet hay
and .olting over the ,ill o. the barn more
than made up for all our ills. 'Our new
hands amt 50 green after all, remarked
spruce young David to his fellow mower
Tell better artcr tie news off, was JON
athans bluff reply. 'The old clown
whispered Benny Indignantly. 'Ilow
clever David is said |. How the child
Is father Of the man. Praise is like pap
for little ones By ard by, when the
suns rays came down straight and hot
upon US, we began TO feel rather tired and
uncomfortable, and cast longing glanccs
towards the shady rock by the spring, be-
hind which lay the kcg and bundle. My
grandfather, seeing us lag, took pity up
on us and set us there to rest and cool
We naturally anticipated our share Of the
cheese and gingerbread, but parl.ed
awhile over the unwieldy keg. I'm sure
said |, Eve-like, we might just as well
take our drink now and drawing out the
spigot, held the kcg to Bennys mouth
for a draurht. 'Eirst-rate,' exclaimed
Benny. smacking his lips, and took it in
to his own hands in order to give me
turn. 1t was cool and refreshing; but
lack-a-day, just as / mad gotten my lips
adjusted to the thick edge of the hole, |
caught sight of Benny's little nose daubed
over with molasses in which struggling
fly was stuck fast. Take it quick, cried
Benny; but, betwixt choking and laugh
ing, | did not take it, and it dropped
down between us, spilling its dulcct con-
tents upon the ground. Just at that mo-
ment the thirsty mowers came round the
rock. so much for babies in having
time growled Jonathan. My grand
father locked silently at us from beneath
/ his shaggy brows, and told us to start
for the house that moment. And so we
did, David, kind-hearted soul, slipping
round the rock TO tell Us that it was no
matter, for he would ix some more.
we Idied tho afternoon Sa1ly u,yuy I'm
the old farm house. True TO human ma
ture, we little ones, who were wont to
walk so lovingly together, began to find
fault with each other. You are black
as n crow sail Benny, after eying me
with eXident disgust for full five minutes.
And you,' retorted |. ARE as speckled
as an adder 'All fom this ugly hay
ing, Benny went ON; and then, common
suffering making common cause, we came
together again, and, vowing eternal alb
stinence from the haying field, we dwelt
in love and harmony until bedtime.-
Somehow, that nil ght, my tired little body
would not rest itself; and had another
irghtful dream about a deep pit and lit
tie Benny, and | kept waking up but
the bed-curtains looked so black, and the
dimly-seen windows so ghastly, | was
afraid TO open my eyes, and, disturbed
by my surroundings and that fearful
dream, | lay trembling with fear half the
night. 1t was very late the next morn
ing when was awakened by the voices
of the merry lawmakers under my win
dow, on their way to the moving field.
! Above every other rang out Bennys
glad and care free. 1t lifted Il strange
weight from my heart, yet for many
| day after there cane over me, every how
and then, the shadow Of that fearful
| dream.
The haying time passed away quickly
aud mcrrily; best of holidays to us
/ From them have come some of the bright
| est pictures and purest sentiments Of my
/ life. remember as if it were but yes
terday, how | used to watch the shadows
tripping over the tall grass of the now
ing field down into the meadow, speckled
with butterGrps and daisies Every year
there comes to me, with the freshness Of
that bygone experience, a tender feeling
Of regret at the first inroads of the lusty
mowers upon the ripened grass. No pic
turesqueness has died to me with time,
from out their midyear labor watch
as intently new as then the glittering OF
the swiftly moving scythe, the tripping of
the severed blades, softly piling themselves
into green winrows, TO be rnked up by
frolicking boys and girls into fantastic
heaps, and flung with an unwilling grace,
into the waiting racks. l love TO see
these racks, full and running over with
their sweet-sccnted freight, iiinging down
gaiands upon the horns OF the lazy oxen
and shredding slender trail for the mer-
ry rakers behind them. The careless
abandon Of laughing girls, buried neck
deep IN the fragrant loads; the merry
pranks of baref0oted boys, packing the
teeming barns; the sharp click Of homes
piled by brawny arms; monotonous whiz-
zng Of sharpened blades; the harmoni-
Gus motion of the stalwart mowers; the
tired hind .Ioitering and leaning with a
wild grace the thrifty farmer eying