Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1875-12-30
Misesllansons. g
Rosy's Wedding Portion.
BY HARRIET PRESCOTT sPorroRD

BY HARRIET PRESCOTT sPoFfoRD.
She stood at the gate. with her hat on
the back of her neck and the morning sun
streaming over her bare bright head. while
she spoke with the young man who leaned
across the rail and gazed at her out OF q
pair OF earnest brown eyes. In one hand
she held the broken rose aud spout of an
old watering pot that she had just careless
ly picked up, and neither she nor the father
and mother who gazed at her from the lit
tie sweet-brier- -draped yeranda knew that
she held in her hand the greater part of
her wedding portion.
Let him have my little clover blossom.' 2
cried the father, angrily. Not by = long
shot Have ! been rearing her this twenty
years to throw her over the fence at lastf"
But. father"
mo. mother, that will do Mr.. Monteith
may be part OF the solid earth. for all |
know-yeu women seem to think so. But
I'll send him flying higher than Gilderoy's
kite il he asks me for Rosy Mayner
But. father" the timid voice began
again.
There, that will do, mother, say. See
her down at the gate now" Aud the duti-
full wife turned her head TO look at the
pretty maiden. tall and slender and we'll
shaped, and with face than whose Won
derful colors. SO pellucid, SO rich. so chang
ing. Aurora herself could have none fairer
or brighter face whose brilliant hazel
ewes accented all the colors with their clear
lsstre, and the 1ne and flowing hair about
which was Of the marvellous tint which is
neither chestnut nor red, but has some
thing OF the shadow OF the first, something
OF the splendor of the last. Look at her. :"
said the father. Il can't believe a thing so
fine as that is any Of mine. She's you all
over again when courted you. Aud I'm
sure she shall be none Of his Am going
TO give that girl to q ragsmuffin Of an in
ventor to 60 and starve Ia city lodging,
do you think! Why, she has taken the
prize for bread at every fair the country
round; her cheese is the best; her butter is
the best her darning is the"
Then I'm sure, father. she's all the bet
ter prepared to marry q poor man"
We'll. she's not going to do it :" said the
farmer. sharply. The man that m2rries
my Rosy is man that shall be satisfied
knows how TO take care of her. He shall
be able To plOw q straight furrOw, TO drain
field. to lay out farm"
but. father" persisted the audacious
wife. you know yourself that it's q bard
life ,asd there are other things Just as good
as farming; and II SO be he can
There, there, there!" answered Mr..
Mayne. mot another word. There's an
end OF it. Don't talk 20 me, either, of what
was done over TO the Beach. George Rives
would have done IL II he hada't. I'm sorry
ever let him coUe here, idlipg away the
summer In our best room, building Golfer
dams down In my brook, and making love
to my girl; aud tomorrow III send hin
packing! I'm going over to get George
kives TO help me spell, guess, anyhow
and maybe thstll put this folly out ol
her head. don1 know why you don't like
George. do. And he has more land than
any two in the township"
"Id rather she'd die an old maid."
"Well. hadn't. And now about thai
hanged old churn Of yOurs-what Is it yos
want? The hoop fixed Oh the bottom
Roll it out, then, and we'll see what can bs
done. It's strange thing that 10 all thes&
years none Of you women that have been
churning your heads and shoulders of ca,
ind any better way to bring the butter thar
this!'
''Oh yes, father, have made enough fol
Mr.. Monteith's breakfast many time. .fresi
with . bowl and spoon. He told me how
to Do il hi0self-just whip the wind int
h."
"Wmp the nosseuse into IT," said Mr.
Mayne. .'0reae he ksows about butser
making! Get ~ The hammer, Mrs.. Mayne