Mexico weekly ledger., 1882-01-05
JENNIE'S BANGS.

this year, but everything has gone
wrong. 1t isn't the year for fruit,
l thought there would be a few ap-
pies, which would have brought a
good price in the scarcity; but there
isn't barrel in the whole orchard.
The potatoes are poor, the corn is
bltghted and the rains spoiled the
wheat. | didn't get half the hay 1
expected on account of the droug ht.
The horse is never going to get well
of that lameness the brindle OK died,
and my best cow is sick. The pigs
are fat, but pork has gone down to
nothing. My whole flock of seventy
hens are moltlng, and hain't laid an
egg for month. I've got to buy
grain for my stock, and corn is eighty
cents a bushel. To crown all, the
frost took twenty bushels of unripe
grapes from me. If that isn't enough
TO discourage a man, when foreclos-
urc of the mortgage upon his farm is
close at hand, | do not know what
:"
Mrs. Ford wiped her eyes.
"Chcer up, father! Jennie's COM
ing home
But even the mention Of his only
daughter could not dispel the good
man detection and sense of trial.
He rose up, covered his partially bald
head with his old hat, and marched
out of the house.
Then good Mrs. Ford wiped away
another tear. Her little financial
ventures, too. had been unsuccessful
The ptilc for butter was unusually
low; the turkeys had gorged them
selves on musly wheat, and been
found stretched lifeless under their
perch. She had spent all her spare
time. all summer. hraiiing two rugs
for thc doctors wife, and the doctor
had moved away ard left them on
her hands. There We're no apples to
dry. and the pumpkins were rotting
drcadfully.
Such are the trials OF farmer wives
quite frequently; but to have the
mortgage foreclosc upon the Old
place where she had lived ever since
she was married-thc dear old place
where her children had been born,
and where she expected to spend her
last earthly days-this was too mach
and Mrs. Ford's apron went W, and
q great many tears tell among lis
tidy folds
Suddenly there was the roll of 4
yellow old stage-coach's heavy wheels
at the door, the hanging down Of a
trunk. and graceful girls form IN
the doorway.
"Nothel YOU dea:, darling old
mother. Why, what are You crying
fur:'
And Jennie Ford's blue eyes open
ed wide upon the now smiling and
delighted wrinkIcd face.
Il III not crying. Jennie, dear.
Why, now YOU have altered, child
an inch taller, and we'll. it's mother
that says it-so pretty. You hardly
lock like my Jennie, with those blue
ribbons. and that fringe of little cnrls
over your forehead.
Aunt Ellinor wanted my hair
banged, mothrr.'
Nv hat, child:'
! changed, mother dear. But never
mind my hair. You have been cry
ing, and | WANT to know what tn,
matter is:
/ Jennie, divested OF her wraps, viii
/ her pretty shoulders buried in shiried
blue silk and lace. was an apparitior
! lovely indeed 10 appear, tender ano
blooming, in the old farmhouse
+ kitchen.
A wealthy aunt, peculiar aud com
/ parativelY unknown, had come &c
Whcatlands the previous spring, and
| pleased by the sweet-faced girl o.
sixteen she had never before seen
bore her away for a summer TO ;
fashionable seaside resort. AnotheI
month had been spent at her hand
some city residence but finally Jcn
ME had come home.
II suppose | was down-hearte'
Jennie. Father-fathcr' dreadiullN
down about the way things are going
The stock and crops-well, as la
says. everything seems to have gon'
wrong-wrOng this year; and-an'
the mortgage foreclOses the first o
January added Mrs. Ford, her fac
bending over her again busy hands.
She looked up at last in the 81
lence that follwed, and met Jennie
| blue eyes, grave enough.
But YOU needn't fret, child. 1o
are young, and | daresay old Wheat
+. l.nds IS a dull enough place to you.
Its home, mother, and L low
nv home. There is some one com
ing next week--a-a gentleman
! who was very polite and kind TO me
He is rich ani elegant. but L am no
, ashamed Of Whcatlands, conclude
i Jennie, deriscly, nodding her prett
head, with its line OF golden fringe.
Mrs. Ford understood.
80 my grille has got q swee'
heart, she said.
A bright, eloquent, blushing loo
from Jennie, but no words; for tn
, kitchen door opened, and, with
glad cry, Jennie sprang into he
fathers arms. 1t was pleasant I
see the old gcntleman's grim fac
break into smiles.
$50 you've come home at las
child
"Hd have come home long agt
dear father, but Aunt Elinor wouldn
+. let me-
As Jennie sat down by the gre
open fireplace, her father looked III
|, over from head to foot. No one NJ
I, ticed the look of his face as he turne
away. Jennie herself was Though
il full, and sat gazing meditavely In
t the open blaze, while her moth
made the tea and toasted bread on
= great-plo onged fork.
Mis-. Ford was one of the few foi
Of old fashions, and clung to the oil
d time way of doing things. She hi
v never been persuaded to have coo
u ipo stove, a modern bedstead, Or
clothes wringer.
,. All the fire-places at Wheatlan
- were open, the bedsteads were hlg
nosted. piled With beds filled wi