The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1883-10-25

optI4t WOulu w uOV1AE,
Anu come, my love, my love, to thee,
10 thee, to thee.-Boston Transcript.
How the Deacon Proposed.
BY pERsIs F. CHASE.
II tell you what tits Jacob. I come
here when Mary Ann died so sudden,
and left you with them three motberless
children, and took right hold and looked
after things same's ef they We're my
own, don't know as you hev much rea-
son 10 complain, and hey had your victu.
ais and there han't ben nothin' wasted
The milk's been took care of we'll, y on
know you get more for your butter than
eny one round here. I don't see nc
cali for you to 60 and get married, at
your time of life too, and you deacon
of the church."
II don't see what you are talking so
for. Jesusha, I haven't found any fault
have I?' guess shan't get married to
night"
"Wall I aim no fool, Jacob, you
didn't used to STAN before the glass
brushin' hair half an hour jest tn go tn
evenin' meetin'., and I amt the only
one that has noticed how you are spruc-
ing up lately. Miss Green was in here
this afternoon, aud abe spoke bout it.
She said she shouldn't wonder a mite
of you was married before winter"
"Mrs. Green is good hand to mind
other folks business. She better stay at
home and take cara of her family"
"Wall, all hey tn say is, efyou must
get married don't for messy sakes hev
that Clarissa Howe; what'll she know"
The deacon who had finished his tot
let, did not want to hear the rest of Aunt
Jerusha's remarks, but went out Of the
room, closing the door with just little
slam, and walked rather faster than
usual toward the little church, to take
part in the Tuesday evening prayer
meeting. Deacon Grover, was not, by
any means, an old man, az his haH-sister
Jerusha, had limited, only forty. Tall,
and as erect as if he were soldier in
stead of a farmer, with hardly silv er
thread in his glossy black hair.
It is now three years since Mrs. Gro
yer. the deacon's wife died, leaving
three children, two boys and little
daughter three years old. The deacon
had been very fond Of his wife, and had
sincerely mourned her loss.
She was sadly missed in her home, for
she had been one "who looked well to
the ways of her household, and ate not
the bread of idleness."
Deacon Grover had been glad to accept
the services of his sister, to look after
his house and children, especially little
Mary, who was delicate child and
needed constant attention, and had got
along very we'll with Jerusha, account
ing for eccentric ways by remembering
a disappointment in love, which had
made herthe old maid she was.
As Jerusha was several years older
than her brother, she did not hesitate
to express her opinion at the way he
managed his affairs, and give him plen-
ty of advice. 'She had done her duty
bv Jacob and the children, and took
right hold and looked after thinys same 8
of they's my own" so she told Mrs.
Green, but the children wanted some-
thing besides wholesome food and clean
clothes, and doses of herb tea; they
missed a mothers love. Little Mary
found out it Was no use to ask Aunt
Jerusha ''to sing to her, or tell her a
story, as mamma used to-" the reply
was sure to be, II hain't got no time,
you 20 and set down in your little chair
and be good girl" so when papa was
not about she lavished her affections on
her kitten or doll.
So the months and years passed, and
the deacon had NJ velTglven any indica-
cation that he intended to change his
lonely condition. In vain did sister Bah
bitt, huxom widow, express her
sympathy for him, ond was evidently
willing to unite her fortune with his in
the tenderest Of ties'
About six months before the date l
am writing, Clarissa Howe had come to
this little village among the Vermont
hills, to try to earn her living by Dress
making. A cousin, who was married to
a farmer had written her, that the only
dressmaker in the place, had been
obliged to give up work on account of
her health; so Clarissa, whose early
home had been in the country, gladly
left her little room in the top of a cheap
city boarding-hou e, and went to Har-
land. where she made her home with
her cousin, going about from house to
house, cutting and making dresses for
seventy five cents day. Although she
worked hard. tor every one vas anxious
to have the city dressmaker, the pure
country air, fresh milk, and homemade
brought back the color to her cheeks,
and sparkle to her eyes. Her cousin
told her she was growing young. Ga
rissa was now twenty eight. Her parents
had died when she was sixteen, leaving
her almost entirely dependent upon her
own exertions for her support. When
she was about twenty, she became en-
gagged to a young man she had long
known, and was looking forward to a
home Of her own, if only a humble one,
when dreadful accident occurred on
the railroad, where John Porter, her
lover, was brakeman, instantly killing
him. Since that time Carissa
had worked on, taking but fittle inter-
est in anything, and only caring to earn
enough to keep out of debt. This change
from the city to the country had been
just what she needed. She arrived at
Harland in April, when all nature was
awakening to new life, The meadows
and hillsides were beautiful with the
fresh grass of spring. On every tree
and bush the brown buds were bursting,
and the tiny green leaves peeping out.
Robins were singing blithely as they
slyly watched the ploughman turn over
the brown burrows, knowing they would
not have to go far }or their dinner.
So with the sweet spring tiae new
hope and courage sPrarg up in Clarissa's
heart. Life had good deal of bright
ness in it, for her, after all.
As Deacon Grover walked toward 4he
church, with Jerusha's remarks ringing
in his ears, he was obliged to admit that
the dearest wish of his heart was to
make Clarissa Howe his wife. The first
time he saw her at church, and heard
her sweet voice singing the old familiar
hymns, he had almost fallen in love with
her, and afterward seeing her at the
evening meeting, with her cousin who
had given him an introduction, he was
still more pleased with her. Never, in
his young days, wnen he was paying
much attention to Mary Ann, had he
been so much in love. When he was
about his work be found himself think
ing OF Clarissa. His field of ripening
wheat reminded him of her golden
brown hair, and the blue violets, that
little Mary picked down by the brook,
and brought to him to put in water for
her, Just matched her eyes.
y He had never paid any particular at
Ftention to Clarissa, but some how it had
begun to be whispered around "that
deacon Grover was all took up with the
new dressn aker. e
Mrs. Green had been the first to car