American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1881-01-01
PaTIENT MERCY JONES.

| PaTIENT MERCY JONES.
LET us veneratc thu homes
| Who lics underneath these stones"
This is her story as once told to me
By him who still Lowell her, as all mon might
Darius. her husband. his age seventy years,
| A man OF few words, but, for her, many tears
Darius and Mercy were born in Vermont;
| Both children were christened ut baptisma
In the very same place, on tho very same
| Not much acquainted just then, I dare say).
The minister sprinkIed the babies, aud said,
who knows but this couple some time may
| And i be the parson to join Them together,
| For veal Or for woe, through all sorts OF
| weather..
| Well, they Uerc married, and happier folk
Never put both their heads in the same loving
yoke.
They were poor. they worked hard, but moth
The patience of Mercy. or cloud her bright
She was Clothed with Content as a beautiful
She had grfefs-who has not on this changeabe
But at such times she seemed like the sister OF
Job.
She was patient with dogmas, where light
She was patient with people who trod on her
She was patient with folks who said blue skies
And dentists and oxen that pulled the wrong
She was patient with phrases no husband
She was patient with cream that declined to
She was patient with buyers with nothing to
She was patient with takers with nothing to
She was patient with millers whose trade was
And grocers who counted out ten to the
dozen;
She was patient with bungIers and fault-find-
And tail. awkward lads who came counting
her girls;
She was patient with crockery no art could
And chimneys that smoked every day the
wrong end:
She was patient with reapers who never would
And iong-winied callers who never would go;
She was patient with relatives when, unin-
They came, and devonred, then complained
She was patient with crows that got into the
corn,
She was patient with lightning that burned up
She was patient with poultry unwilling to lay:
sne was patient with rogues who drank cider
too strong,
She was patient with boots that tracked up
She was patient with peddlers and other
She was patient with children who disobeyed
And, to crown all the rest, she was patient
with fools.
The neighboring husbands all envic1 the lot
of Darius. and wickedly got up plot
To bring Ger his sunshine an unpleasant spot:
But ne asa Know Vol Of something her smiles will
When she gets out of wood, and for more is
Just send home the crookedest lot you can
Let us pick it out. let us go and choose it,
And wen bet you a farm, when she comes for
Her temper will crack like Nathan Dow's
And she'll be as mad as an elderly hornet"
Darius was piqucd. and he said. with rum.
~ I'm pay for the wood il yoau send it hum; -,
come.
Never entered the gate of Christian abode.
rams horn was straighter than any stick
1t seemed to be wriggiinx about every
1t would NOT stand up. and it would not lie
It twisted the vision OF one-half the town.
To look at such fuel was really sin.
For the chance was strabismus would surely
set in.
Darius said nothing to Mercy about II:
1t ioas crooked wood-even she could not
doubt it:
But never a harsh word escaped her sweet
lips,
Any more than if the old snags we're smooth
chips.
She boiled with them, baked with them,
washed with them through
The long winter months, and none ever knew
But the wood was as straight as Mehitable
Drew,
Who was straight as a die, or gun, or an
And who made it her business all male hearts
to harrow.
When the pile was burned up, and they needed
more wood,
!" Sure, now, unused Darius, shat catch Il
She has kept her remarks all condensed for
the spring,
She never did scold me, but now she will pou..
And say with such wood she is nearly worn
out"
But Mercy, unrufiied, was calm, like the
That reflects back at evening the suns perfect
beam:
And she looked at Darius, and lovingly smiled,
As she made this request, with temper I'M
=" We are wanting more fuel I am sorry to
I burn a great deal too much every day,
And mean to use less than 1 have in the
But get, If you can, dear. load like the last;
Do see who has moe crooked fuel to sell:
There's nothing that's better than wood full
of knots,
1t fays so complete round the kettles and
And washing and cooking are really like play
When the sticks nestle close III SO charming a
-James 7. Fields, in Harper's Ma11zine,