The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1881-01-08
PATIENT MERCY JONES.
BY JAMES T. FIELDS
Let us venerate the bones
OF patient Mercy Jones.

OF patient Mercy Jones
who hes underneath these stones.
This is her story once told to me
BY him who still loved her, all might sec
Darius, her husband, his age seventy years,
man of few words, but for her many tears.
Darius and Mercy were born in Vermont
Both children were christened at baptismal font
In the very same place, on the very same day
(Not much acquainted just then, daresay.)
The minister sprinkled the babies, and said,
"Who knows but this couple some time may be we'd
And be the parson to join them together
For veal or for woe, through all sorts of weather."
Well, they tcere married, and happier folk
Never put both their heads in the same loving yoke
They were poor, they worked hard, but nothing
could try
The patience of Mercy, or cloud her bright eye.
She was clothed with Content a beautiful robe;
She had griefs-who has not on tits changeable
globe?-
But at such times she seemed like the sister of job
She was patient with dogmas, where light never
dawns,
She was patient with people who trod on her lawns
She was patient with folks who said blue skies were
gray,
And dentists and oxen that pulled the wrong way;
She was patient with phrases no husband should
utter,
She was patient with cream that declined to be but
She was patient with buyers with nothing to pay,
She was patient with takers who had nothing say
She patient with mlllers whose trade was 10
coZen,
And grocers who counted out ten to the dozen;
She was patient with bunglers and fault-fnding
churls,
And tall awkward lads who came counting her girls
She was patient with crockery art could mend,
And chimneys that smoked every day the wrong end;
She patient with reapers who never would SOW,
And -winded callers who never would go;
She was patient with relatives when, unlimited,
They came, and devoured, then complained they
we're sIghted;
She was patient with COWS that got into the corn,
And other dark dee Is out of wantonness born;
She patient with lightning that burned up the
hay,
She was patient with poultry unwilling to lay;
She patient with rogues who drank cider too
She was patient with sermons which lasted too long:
She patient with boots that tracked up her clean
floors,
She was patient with peddlers and other smooth
bores;
She was patient with children who disobeyed rules,
And, to all the rest, she patient with fools.
The neighboring husbands all envied the lot
OF Darius, and wickedly got up plot
To bring DER his sunshine an unpleasant spot.
You think your wite's temper is proof against fate
But zee know Of something her smiles will abate.
When she gets oG. of wood and for-more is inclined,
Just send home the crookedest lot you can fnd
Let rs pick it out, let as go and Oh Dose it
And Wen bet you farm when she comes for to use
it, ~
Her temper Will crack like Nathan Dow's cornet,
And she'll be mad as an elderly hornet"
Darius was piqued, and he said, with rum
- I'll pay for the wood, if yott'U send it hum;
But depend on 1t, neigheors no danger will come"
Home came the gnarIed roots, and a crookeder load
Never entered the gates of Christian abode.
A rams horn straighter than any stick in it;
1t seemed to be wriggling about every minute;
1t would not stand up, and it would not lie down;
1t twisted the vision of one-hah the town.
To look at such fuel was really sin,
For the chance Stra bismus would surely set
Darius said nothing to Mercy about it;
1t lCas crooked wood-even she could not doubt it;
But never harsh word escaped her sweet lips,
Any more than if the old snags were smooth chips.
She boiled with them, baked with them, washed with
them through
The long winter months, and none ever knew
But the wood straight Mehitable Drew,
Who straight die, gun, a arrow,
And who made it her business all male hearts to
harrow.
When the pile was burned up, and they needed more
wood,
% Sure now,n unused Darius, 81 shall catch IT good;
spring,
And my ears for the trick, deserve well to sing
She never did scod me, but now she will pout,
And say with such wood she is nearly worn OUT
But Mercy, unrufded, was calm, like the stream
That rejects back evening the SUMS perfect beam;
And she looked at Darius, and lovingly smiled,
As she made this request, with a temper unrlled:
- We are wanting more fuel, I'm sorry to say;
/ burn n great deal too much every day,
And mean to use less than have in the past;
But get, if you can, dear, a load i ke the last;
1 never had wood that liked half go we'll
Do who has nice crooked fuel to sell;
There's nothing that's better than wood fun of knots
It fays complete round the kettles and pots,
And washing and cooking are really like play
When the sticks nestle close in so charming way"
-Hdrper's Magazine.