The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1875-12-01
Farmer Burling's Revenge.

love and war, and that is some excuse
for me. / had liked her long while.
and kn ew that she liked me. l was
as big fellow as could be found any
where about. I had a farm of my
own, and when / was married, father
had promised to build me a frst-rate
house and stock the place for me.
And when | went to church on Sun
day, or to the city, l had good clothes,
and was never told / looked i'll in
them. On the whole, 1 felt myself a
good, fair match for Fanny Martin,
though she was so nice a girl. And
her father and mother thought so, too,
and she never refused my attention.
had settled in the slow, quiet sort of
way in which country men do settle
these things, that we'd make match
Of it. The other young gentlemen
knew it, and if we were not fashiona-
BILE we were so far gentlemen that we
had our code of honor. None of them
ever interfered or tried to cut me out.
But, then, he came, don't you see.
Dapper and pretty, and looked like a
tailor's fashion-plate, and he talked of
things l knew little about, and his
hands we're white, and he had graceful,
gallant ways that l had never learnt.
Mr.. Williams that was his name.
And in that holiday of his, while we
we're working hard over the bay and
were tanned and dirty and worn, and
so tired that sleep was all we wanted
when work was over, why, then he,
soft, sweet and smiling, made himself
agreeable to the girls, and crept into
Fanny Martins heart. My Fanny.
She scarcely looked at me. She did
not care whether she met me or not !;
and on Sunday there he was making
me feel somehow so coarse and rough
and vulgar; and when / wanted her
to go home with me ipto the woods
where we used to sit in the green shad-
ow, and listen to the birds sing, she
had some excuse to stay at home; and
when on the road from church took
her hand in mine, she snatched il
away and said quite Grossly:
Don't, Ben; don't do such silly.
rustic things while the city folks are
here. They never do it themselves,
and they laugh So"
"Mr. Williams laughs, you mean, 1
suppose" said l. "That's gentleman
ly, too."
And then she blushed and curled her
little lip, apd said:
"You are criticizing Mr.. Williams
manners, are your"
After that there was GOODNESS be-
tween US; but though it made my
heart ache, could not think that it
mattered much to her. STAYED away
from her fathers house, and / did not
walk home from church with her on
Sunday; indeed, l did not 90 to
church at all. And 1 knew the young
folks, yes, and the old folks, too, were
saying that We were out with each
other, and | suppose every one guessed
why; but would never answer any
questions-not when my mother asked
them, not /.
so the summer passed and the fall
came on, and the city people STAYED
and stayed; / saw that fellows pana.
ma hat end silk umbrella and pretty
linen suit wherever l went. Farther
than / could see other people, I used
to see him and her-Mr. Williams
and Fanny you know.
They had never made Fanny work
much at home, and she had plenty of
time to enjoy herself The only girl,
you know, and her people what we
call forehanded.
never intended that she should
drudge after we were married. When
had hoped for that, did not mind
work myself but I'd never have made
slave of my wife, as most farmers
do; any one can see by looking at
the poor women who have no time for
prettiness, or even to play with the
babies they bring into the world-wo-
men whose husbands are rich men too,
very often.
This Mr.. Williams, be could not
have made her more of a precious
thing than I would; l knew that.
l was thinking this all over one eve.
ming on the meadow-not trying to
think, you know, but fighting the
thoughts that came like mosquitoes, as
fast as ] drove them away, to ring in
my ears and sting me-when suddenly
l heard some one say:
"Ah-Mr.--Mr. Burling."
And l looked up and there was Mr..
Williams, natter than ever, with a
cigar ir his mouth.
If he had known how / felt toward
him, I'm not sure he'd have come to
fird me in the great meadow, and I
/ shonoht IF that % inn,nad m erorn