The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1870-07-21

ted, and was called Squire" as his
father had been before him. lie wanted
to marry Jane Lawrence, and she would
not; likes and dislikes cannot be con.
trolled, and she cared more for Robert
Thompson's little finger than for the
whole of poor, undersized Joe Squire
Burnham had found another wife, and
Mrs. Thompson this weary day was
furiously envying her. Mrs. Burnham
would come amidst the rest of the sew.
ing club, too, and see the miserable
shabbishness Of the mulberry ware, and
the home generally. The butter got
beaten savagely at the thought.
Robert Thompson was not an uukiud
man; only thoughtloss. lie was Il type
of a very large class, more especially
farmers, who did not feel the need Of
llies rugged pathway being soltened
with flowers Absorbed in his stock,
his crops, his money getting, he did not
realize how mOnotonous was his wife's
life at home. He had his recroations
the weely market; gossip with his
brother farmers politics ;-she had
nothing but work aud care. He did not
realize the truth that the worn, shabby
home told upon her; that she needed
some Frightening to come to it as
yearning want Of life. And so, as the
years had gone on, she grew dissatisfied
at heart, hardly understanding what
she wished for or what she did not
wish the iuteusly unlovely, prosy,
dull life somewhat sourel her spir
its. Now aud again, when she gave
back short or bitter retort. Robert
wondered she used to be so sweet TEN.
pered.
All through the long forenoon Mrs.
Thompson nursed her wrath, Robert
was selfish and unreasonable, aud she
did not care who knew it, She would
not have the sewing club at the farm,
come what might. The potatoes got
boiled; the big piece of beef was sim
mering on the fire. But before twelve
o'clock had well struck she saw her
husband and his two friends coming
through the orchard, with red and hun.
cry faces. Mr. Thompson always
wanted his dinner boiling hot and she
FASTENED to lay the cloth in the cool
room off the kitchen. Frank and Char.
ley, her two boys, came rushing in from
school, each striving to CLAIM, her atten.
ton. She was heated, tired, and very
cross.
Why isn't dinner ready 2" demand.
ed Mr.. Thompson, not seeing it actual
ly on the table when he eentored "T told
you we had no time to waste to day"
he added angrily in his hurry and hun.
ger. "lf | hadn't anything to do all
the forenoon but to get dinner I'd have
it ready to time, know"
A bitter retort was springiug to her
lips, but ere it could be spoken Charley
clamorOusly interposed, pushing his
new copy book before her eyes.
"Look mother | am going into
sentences now, like Frank. It's my
first copy. The master wrote it; and
he said | was to get it by heart, too, and
always remember it. Do read it
mother"
Mrs. Thompson, her arms full of the
cracked old mulberry plates, paused
moment to let her eyes fall ou the new
copy. "A soft answer turneth away
WRATH" was what she read. 1t was
not that the proverb was ncw-she had
read it scores of tmes-but there was
something in its appropriateness to the
present moment that fell like a cool
sweet wind on her heated pulses.
al will have it ready in a moment
Robert" she said quietly.
Mr.. Robert Thompson looked up
Evidently he had not expected so pleas
ant reply. If the truth must be told,
he had thought good bit that morning
OF his wlfe's request about the white
ware. Not in the way of granting it,
but that she would be sulky over it
when they got in to dinner.
Z" 1t doesn't feel here at is does in
that blazing meadow" he remarked to
his friends as they went into the cold
north room to dinner. "Folks that can
keep indoors this weather have an
easy time of it; they don't know what
heat is"
Mrs. Thompson wondered weather
this was slap at her. Her face looked
scarlet enough for any amount of heat.
As to sitting down with them, she had
enough to do to wait on the party. 1t
was washing day, and Mary must not
be called
" This butter must have been kept in
the kitchen: It's Ike n;ln s.ia.AI.