Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1882-02-21
Love and Ounce Seeds.

Farmer Ford, coming into the house
one Geld fall day and sitting down
hasd in a chair in the kitchen.
His wife, pairing pumpkins at table,
did not ask why.
II expected we should DO we'll this
year, but everything has gone wrong.
1t isn't the year for fruit, yet 1 thought
there would be few apples, which
would have brought good price in the
scarcity; but there isn't barrel OF
apples in the whole orchard. The po-
tatoes are poor, the corn blighted snd
the rsins spoiled the wheat. / didn't
get half the hay expected on account
Of the early drought. The horse is
never going to get well OF that lame
ness; the brindle OK died and my best
COW is sick. The pigs sre fat, bat pork
has gone down to nothing. Ny whole
flock Of seventy hens are melting, and
hain't laid an egg for a month. I've
got to buy grain for my stock, and corn
is eighty-fve cents a buShel. To crown
all, the frost took twenty-five bushels
Of unripe grapes from ne. II that
isn't enough TO discouraged man, when
foreclosure Of tie mortgage upon his
farm is close at hand, don't know
what isl"
Mrs. Ford wiped her eyes.
"Cheer up, fatherl Jennie's coming
home"
But even the mention Of his only
daughter could not dispel the good
mans 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
tear. Her little financial ventures, too,
had been unsuccessful The price for
butter was unusually low; the turkeys
had gorged themselves on musty wheat
srd been found stretched lifeless under
their perch. She had spent all her
spare time all sumner brsiding two
rugs for the doctors wife, and the doc
tor had moved away and left them on
her hands. There were no apples to
dry, and the pumpkins were rottipg
dreadfully.
Such are the trials Of farmers wives
quite frequently; bu: to haye mort
gage foreclose upon the old place where
she had lived ever since she was mar
riei-the dear old place where her
children had been born, and where she
expected to spend her las; earthly days
this was too much, saj Mrs. EorGs
apron went up, and great many tears
fell among its tidy foldr.
Suddenly there was the roll Of yell
low old stage coach's heavy wheels at
the door, the banging down of a trunk,
and q graceful girls form in the door
way.
"Motherl-you dear, darling old
mother Why, what are You crying
forY'
Aud Jennie Fosd's blue eyes opened
wide upon the now smiling and delight
ed wrinkled face.
I'm not crying, Jennie desr. Why,
how you have altered, ch;lil an inch
taller, and-well, its mother that SAYS
is-so pretty! You hardly look like nv
Jennie, with those blae ribbons and
that fringe of little curls over your fore
head"
Aunt Elinor wanted my hair
banged, mother"
What. chidg'
Banged, mother dear. But never
mind nv hair. You have been crying,
and want t. know what the matter is
Jennie, Invested of her wraps, with
her pretty shoulders buried in SHRED
biue silk and lace, was an appafition
lovely indeed to appear, tender and
blooming, in the old farmhouse kitchen.
A wealthy amt, peculiar and COM
parstively unknown, had come to
wheatlands the previous spring, and
pleased by the sveet-iaced girl of six
teen she had never before seen, borne
her away for q summer to fashionable
seaside resort. Another month hsd been
spent at her handsome city residence;
bit finally Jennie had come home.
81 suppose 1 was dcwn-hearted, Jen-
Gle. Father-fsthers dreadful down
sbout the way things are going. The
stock and the crops-vell, as he says,
everything seems to have gone wrong
this year; and-and the mortgage fore
closes the first of , .nuary," added Mrs.
Ford, her face bending over her again
busy ha:ds. :.
She looked up at last in the silence
that followed, and met Jennie's blue
eyes, grave enough.
"But you needn't fret, child. You
are young, and 1 dare say old Wheat
lands is dull enough place to you"
otis home, mother, and love my
home. There is some one coming next
week-s-a gentleman-who has been
very polite and kind to me. he is rich
and elegant, but I am not ashamed OF
Wheatlands." concluded Jennie, deci-
sively, nodding her pretty head, with
It's line of golden fringe.
NJ. I'll ,,Ja~ukoOJ