Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1883-06-28
A FARMERS LASS.

| jist as much as the breath of life, and
'Yes. SO you say, John; but some
things that're born in person ought to
be corrected an taken out of EN-, inter-
rupted the old farmers wife, with de-
cided shake of the head.
| Now, mother, don't sorter look at
1t in that light. If Sairy has notion
Tor seein' what nuther you nor can see,
in the driftin' clouds, the wet bushes
hangin' full of shinin' drops, the bah
bin brook, the cows standin' in the
water under the shady trees, it don't do
no sorter harm to as, an it pleases her
to tell her feelin's in print. I'd ruther
| haye her a-paintin' wood pictur's with
! her pen than a-plasterin' Of her pretty
face all over like the Smithses. Jist
wait, mother; give the gal her drift, an
take my word for I, she'll mount to a
heap sight more'n then those gal'vantin'
gals of the Smitheses.
After relieving himself of the forego-
ing, the good-natured old farmer went
out to the barn to attend to the stock
Amount to more'n the Smithses!
should hope so, the Lord knows!
They're the most shiftless set in these
parts. All they care for is dress, dress,
dress, an wantin' city chaps follerin'
after 'em from mornin' till evenin, an
late into the night, too, for that mat
ter" said the neat. tidy old lady, as
she hustled about and began to pre-
pare the evening meal.
By-the-way, who is Sairy, the object
of their recent discussion?
Up in the quiet little chamber, whose
windows, close under the projecting
caves, look out upon the rolling land
| scape and far-away vista, a sweet-faced
| girl of sixteen or seventeen years of
age is seated at the table, writing.
There is a strange, dreamy look in her
blue eyes; her round. plump cheeks
are daintily flushed with the fever of
emotion. Her hand moves rapidly over
the paper, and the words flow easily
from the swiftly-gliding pen.
Occasionally she lifts her eyes from
the paper and gazcs out upon the glow
ing sky, whose western horizon is just
beginning to put on its golden mantle
of sunset.
Those hurried glances seem. to give
her fresh inspiration, for she turns to
her paper and writes on and on, as
though the channel of thought would
never cease its flowing.
And then she is suddenly interrupted
by voice calling to her from the bot
tom of the stairs:
'Sairy, teas readyn'
Coming, motherr' she answered.
Rising, she performs hasty toilet,
removes the ink stains from her fingers
anH onoS Anun
s'Well, Sairy," said the kind old
father, as he bent loving glance upon
his daughters face, 'what was it
about this timep'
Il can hardly tell, father. 1t was
about SO many things, that | cannot
single out any particular one to tell
you Of responded the girl.
"Sairy, I'll bet sixpence l can tell
you bout something you put inr'
s.You can? Pray what, father?'
'Pll bet you told bout "a nice, shady
nook in the cool woods, where the cows
were standin' IN the water, where the
blue sky was shinin' tween the branches
an where the pretty song-birds were
singin' sweetly.' Oh, know all bout
it, my dear
''Why, father! who told you what
was writing about?" asked the girl, in
amazement.
Cause seen you out there in that
some nook with my own eyes, yester-
day. l seen that look on you face,
that told me you was drinkin' in all
the sweetness goin' on bout you. Your
heart was reflectin all that your eyes
saw, an it's in SIGH a nature as yours,
my child, to absorb all the pure an
good. You got the gift, Sairy, of tell
in in pretty words what's goin' on
bout you. though / can't say where
you got it from; mother and are lit
tie back ard in SIGH things
Dear, good old man! He spoke in his
quaint, uncouth manner. His words
were rough, unpublished, and he little
knew of the poetry contained in them.
His wife, only thought che talks
like book" but the sweet-faced girl,
the child of genius she could look into
her loved fathers heart, and see there
the gentle fountains of love and poetry
in the rough, which had prompted his
words.
The summer passed and Sarah finally
| finished her task. She had walked hand
in hand with her characters through
the paths she had herself created for
them; she had condoled with them in
their dark hours of care and sorrow,
and with them shared the reward OF
peace and sunshine greeting them at
the close.
| After one more careful look through
the beloved child of her imagination,
after final lingering over some priced
and favored passages, she sent her
wait forth among sea of books.
All, will this pet of her brain-this
beloved companion of hours, days,
weeks and months-be received with
favor?
How often have teeming brains ask.
ed this same question:! Some have
been rendered doubly blest; some have
drank deep at the fountain of bitter dis
appointment, when the work turns out
to be only fleeting fancy-only 9
laborous care for naught.
| Weeks passed, and the patient little
girl heard not o word concerning hel
book. She watched the press. Books
without number were issued, comment
ed upon-lauded or condemned as the
case might be-still nothing about her;
did she read.
II wish / had the means, mother, to
buy the piece of laud," said the old
farmer, one winter evening, while the
three were seated around the table.
"Wishin' won't bring you the means
John" said the wife, as she rounded
the heel of a stocking.
"How much does Farmer Brown ash
for the land, father?' inquired Sarah
raising her eyes from the book which
she was engaged in reading.
Five hundred dollars = it's dir
cheap. 1t would jist squar' out m,
forty-acre lot. But | can't buy now
crops wasn't very good the past season
Some one else'll step in an take it, an
that notch Il still be in my big meadow.
"Perhaps-but, pshaw! I'm thinkin,
foolish things. fear. Good nightr'
The pretty speaker kissed both par
ents and went up to her little chamber
where she sat and watched the stars TO
long time before retiring.
81 wonder if Sairy's heard from
yet?n
II don't like to ask her, mother
They're sorter shy in mentionin' sic
things, so | don't say nuthin' bout
to her." responded the old farmer.
Early next morning, Sarah went t
the post-office in the little village
!, Her heart almost leaped up into he
throat when she saw the heavy bus
ness-like envelope lying in the DO,
| With tremulous fingers she opened il