American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1873-05-31
CANTON, MISS, SATURDAY, MAY 81, 1873

ward, and, pointing to John, whose eye
lids had again closed, he said, in Il low
whisper, How long since he lost the
use of his wits, marm?"
| lie hasn't lost them at ALL said Floy
starting You do ask me the queeresi
questions"
Why, you jist said he was nasral
| didn't your"
No; 1 said a naturalist said Floy
choking down little laugh, as she an
swered him.
WALL" responded the farmer, after a
pause, II don't 'Zackly take your meanin'
But chasin' butterflies does seem rayther a
looney occupation for man of his age,
don't it,"
| "You don't understand" said Floy, in
dignantly. Its a curious specimen"
| mo, miss, | don't understand" said the
farmer. Its very keurious business,
| altogether
| The dry tone in which he said this, and
the manner in which he eyed them both
as he rose to his feet, nearly upset Floy' 5
gravity again. And, glancing at John,
She saw the corners of his pale mouth
twitching suspiciously, too.
oval, l reckon I'll try and find your
| friends agin." His tone said plainly, Il
think you need friends to look after YOU
| 80, there they are now!" cried Floy,
| springing to her feet. d" Harvey-dear
Harvey-how glad am to see you" Her
voice broke in sobs. She was fairly over
come with her long excitement and the
sudden relief of my presence.
katy, dear, don't you think John and
| Floy are growing quite good friends,
| now?"
"Well, l shouldn't wonder, love-" said
| Kate, with a peculiar smile, as, leaning
upon my shoulder, she surveyed the pretty
scene below.
There, in our rustic arbor, sat John Dur
ham, slight pallOr and a cumbrous
crutch the only tokens of his late illness.
| By his side sat our pretty Floy, examining
his knees, and listening with child-like in
terest to his entertaining descriptions of
the specimens" he unfolded to her view.
"a pretty tableau, john" said Kate :;
''but there comes an interruption, in the
shape of Mr. Stokes. Come, Harvey we'll
go down."
Good morning, Mr. Stokes" said 1,
meeting him at the entrance of the arbor;
you find our patient pretty well recover
ed, SIR
80, yes; / shall soon be in condition to
hunt the 'pesky millers' again." John re-
piled, with a humorous glance at Farmer
Stokes
"Humph!'' said that worthy, contemptu-
ously, lit does seem pity strong, able
bodied young man like you can't find
better business than that
That's fact Farmer Stokes" said l,
gravely.
He won't git no sensible gal to tackle
herself to him, in hurry-eh, Miss Floy?"
the old man went on.
Pm sure 1 don't know, sir" said
Floy, assuming an air of supreme inditfer
ence.
EFF ever he axes you, Miss Floy, you
bid him fust quit this varmint business.
You can't make grasshOppers an SIGH
serve for whites, as they did in John the
Baptist's time.'
"a delicate way of putting the matter,
farmer" said l, as Floy, her cheeks like
bramble roses, vanished with Kate; but
must inform you that this 'varmint bust
ness, as you call it, is really quite a
profitable thing for our young friend
here
But does it really pay?" asked the
farmer, staring John, shaking with
laughter, followed Floy into the house,
while l strove, by my explanations, to en-
Tighten a little the farmers mind. But l
found it difficult as well as thankless
task
Mono, sir" he interrupted me, testify;
II don't see it at all. Beg pardon, if I'm
of imposiure, gittin a lot of fools to pay
a big sum for what they know already.
Why, I'll bet know more about bugs'n
he does. Eff he'd find out somethin' to
terminate 'em, now-somethin' like
Lyons powder, for instances
IN try to impress it upon his mind
farmer" said l, solemnly.
do, sir-do," replied the old man,
earnestly. at really concerns me to see
a smart young man like that throwin'
away all his chances of usefulness"
Our story grows too long. Three years
have passed since that eventful summer
during which time great changes have
taken place. Near the dear old mansion
which Kate and l inhabit still, has risen
a rustic cottage, Overgrown with vines.
There lives John Durham and his pretty
wife, who, with her little daughter, Flor
ence makes sunshine in his heart and
home. You see, dear reader, in spite Of
Farmer Stokes prediction, John Durham
did succeed in capturing our Floy, the
prettiest little butterfly that ever tluttered
| across mortal's path.-Ooerland Monthly.