The Grange advance., 1873-10-22
OLD FARMER BRO WV.

OLD FARMER BROWN.
From the harvest field, old farmer Brown came home
with g look Of care;
He threw his hat the floor, and sat down IN his
old splint bottomed chair;
He wiped the sweat from his dripping brow, and
pulled out his old jsck.knfe;
He whitfield away to hmselfawhle, and called to his
little wife.
From her quaint and tidy kitchen, she came through
With her sleeves pinned up her shoulders and her
skirt pinned u p before.
She looked as faded. wrinkled and worn as the folds
Of her QinRham gown,
When she saw the haggard and hopeless look on the
face of Farmer Brown.
Then down in her rocking-chair she sank in sort of
Nor spoke one word but listened and looked to hear
what he might soy.
spring to fall
Arasn taters an to sell, that don't bring moth
ic' at all.
Here we have worked together for forty years. like
pair Of slaves,
An that old mortgage ain's lifted yet that owe to
Gideon Graves
That judgment note O. Deacon Dunn's will soon be
fallin' due,
An where the moneys comm from. why, 1 can't
tell, nor you.
I'm kept in sech worry an fret by all these sort O.
That have to sell the stuff that raise right off for
whatit brings.
1t costs much for my taxes now. an to keep tho
wolf away,
That haven't no chance to make cent, an that
Hannah we've both on us grown old, an our children
There is that is left at home for to de-
pend upon.
amt as strong used to be, able to work.
know;
But I've got set these matters square, an the farm
have to go.
"Half o the world lives idle, with plenty to eat an
wear,
An the ones who work the hardest have often the
least to spare.
The farmers work till their forms are bent an their
hands are hard an brown;
The workmen delve in the dust an smoke O. the work
shops in the town;
The sturdy sailors bring to our shores the wealth O.
An the other half the world subssts by the work
O. these hardened hands.
An this is o the reasons why can't pay what
While you an are gettin old, and the farm have
togo.
"I've worked in the woods in the wintertime I've
plowed an sowed In the spring
I've hoed and dug through summer and fall, an l
haven't made thing.
Sometimes lie awake all night, an worry, an fuss.
an fret,
An never single wink O. sleep bit O. rest get
think O. our grown-up children, an the life they've
They've got to hoe the same hard row as you and
ha We done.
thni q the politicians, an the way that they rob
an steal,
An, the think o farmin, the poorer it makes
The Spectators buy up cheese, our butter, our
An they sell EN- asin for more'n twice much as
they had to pay.
They bleed us in Transportation they fleece every
They cheat us on our provisions an the yerv clothes
They live in their lofty houses the best that can
Their wives dazzlin diamonds an their children
In the they 60 to the s.ashore an tho springs
An that is the way butter an cheese nour corn
an Eaters 60.
That the railroads an politicians may cheat US an
They carry the regns O. power, an will till we fill
They rule an ruin the markets, an We are pack O.
What's to be- done God only knows. I've failed in
In tryin lay leetle by to ease my declnin' days.
never have been shiftless man; I've dggered I've
While the old farms been a runnin' down since the
I've bo1;oxed money to p.y my debts an I've watch
T' fairly got the start o me, an the farm have
Then the little wife of Farmer Brown stood) up upon
the floor,
And she looked at him in kind Of way that she
The fu1rows iedfrom her shriveled checks and her
face. grew all aglow:
"I"ever will sign the deed, John, an the farm shall
sseuer 60.
There's jest one thing to be done, as sure as you
an 1ere born:
Hope an prayer are good, John, for the man who
digs an delves,
But Heaven will never help u.s. John, unless we help
ourselves.
amt as clipper an smart an spry, nor as strong
But 1ve got heap o .punk, John, when it's started
up in me-"
Over the old mans furrowed face the tears began to
flow,
He had felt more proud and strong since their
A golden CLEAN Of heavenly hope illumned his souls
despair,
And, kneeling down on the tme-worn floor. both
bowed their heads in prayer.
-E"gene j. Hail. in Our Fireside Friend.
A MUSICAL TuRnKEY.-The au-
thorities Of a prison in Canada ad-
vertise as follows: s'Wanted, q respec-
table man to act as turnkey in county
prison. One who understands music,
can play the organ, and sing bass,
would be preferred"