The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1884-02-04

4
| young voice left her forever.
II don't blame her none, anyway" she
| sobbed out to her boy, now stout fellow of
| twenty-five, raging at his sisters folly. II
can't feel to blame her; / know It's more u
girl can bear, to live this way. I've he'd
to, but it's been dreadful hard! I've wished
more'n once could be laid down along with
the little babies out there on the hill, so 8 to
rest spells but there was you and Lury
wanted me, and so my time hadn't come.
Amasy, you're man grown now. If ever
you should get married. and / s'pose you
will, men folks seem to think it's needful,
whether or no, do kinder make it easy for
her, poor creetur! Don't grind her down to
skin and bone, like me, dear; faint just
right, Pm sure ont. never to make no more
of woman than If she was horned critter,
and don't do it,
"Mother, neuer willr answered the son,
as theoretically and solemnly as if he were
taking his oath.
But Wealthy was nearer to her rest than
she knew; the enemv that turks in dirt, neg
lect, poor food, constant drudgery, and the
want o. every wholesome and pleasurable ex-
element to mind and body, and when least
expected swoops down and does it's fatal err
rand in the isolated farm house, no less than
in the crowded city slums; the scourge of
New England, typhoid fever, broke out in
the Tucker homestead.
Wealthy turned away from her baking one
Saturday morning. just as the last pie was
set on the broad pantry shelf, and tainted
on the kitchen floor, where Amasa the
younger found her an hour after, muttering,
delirious and cold. What he could do then,
or the village doctor, or an old woman who
called herself a nurse, was all useless. But
the best skill of any kind would have been
equally futile. She was never conscious
again for week. Then her eyes seemed to
see what was about her once more; she
looked up at her boy, laid her wan cheek on
his hand. smiled-and died.
Hardly had her wasted shape been put
away under the mullens and bareback,
when her husband came in from the hay
field smitten with the same plague. He was
harder to conquer; three weeks of alternate
burning, sinking, raying and chills ended at
last in the grey and grim repose of death for
him, and another Amasa Tucker reigned
alone in thu old house on the hill.
Il ~ r.
1t is not to be supposed that in all these
years Amasa the youL ger had been blind to
the charms of the other sex; he had not
''been with" every girl who went to school
with him, or whom he met at singing schools
or spelling matches, or who smiled at him
from her Sunday bonnet as he manfully
"held up his end" in the village choir.
He had been always faithful to the shy,
delicate, dark-eyed little girl VINO was his
girl sweetheart, and now it was Mary Peet
that he FASTENED to ask to share his life AMI
home. He had intended to take farm on
shares next summer, and work his way
slowly upward to place of his own. Now
ne had this hundred-acre farm, and to his
great surprise he found $4,000 laid up in the
bank at Peets Mill, the slow savings of his
fathers fifty years. He began at once to
get his house in order; he longed to build a
new one, but Mary's advice restrained him,
so he did his best with this. The cellar he
cleared and white-washed with his own
hands; cleaned its one begrimmed window
and set two more, so that it was sweet and
light; the house was scrubbed from one end
to the other, bonfire made of the old dirty
| comfortables and quilts, the kitchen repaint-
ed a soft yellow, the new windows with
clear large glass set in place of the dingy old
sashes. The woodhense was filled with dry
wood and a good store of pine cones and
chopped brush for kindings; a new milk
room was built but little way from the
back door, over a tiny brook that run down
the bill north of the house and under the
Slated floor kept up cool draught OF fresh
air. covered passage connected it with the
kitchen, and door into the old milk room
made of that convenient pantry, while the
removal Of the old one from the kitchen
corner gave to that apartment more room,
air and light. A rev stove with a set boiler
| filled up the hearth of the old fireplace, but
| further Improvements Amasa left for Mary.
A different homecoming from his moth
er's, she had indeed, on just such a spring
day as Wealthy came there. The kitchen
| shone clean and bright, a bowl of pink ar
| butus blossoms made its atmosphere fresh
| ly sweet, and the fire was laid ready for her
IN liuhf chi TOOL oft 10 filiod an1 the
| pantry held such stores as Amasa's mascu
| line knowledge of household wants could
| suggest-four. butter, eggs, sugar, all were
| iii abundance, and no feast of royalty ever
| gave more pleasure to its most honored
| guest than the hot biscuit Mary made and
| baked for their supper, the stewed dried
| apple, the rich old cheese and the fragrant
tea, gave Amasa on this happy evening,
| Next day they took their wedding trip tC
| Peet's Mills in the new and sensible farm
wagon Amasa had just bought, with 9
strong spirited horse to draw it.
81 want you to look around, Mary" he
had said the night before, land see what is
| needtul here. expect almost everything il
wanting, and we can't lay out for finery
but firstof all get what will make your work
easy. Your wedding present will come
along tomorrow; today We'll buy necessi
| ties"
Mrs. Peet had not sent her only girl emp
ty handed to the new home; a good mat
tress, two pairs of blankets, fresh light com
| fortables, and some cheap, neat whit
spreads, a set of gray crockery, clock and ;
| roll of bright ingram carpeting had AL conn
to the farmhouse soon after the brides arri
va. Her ample supply of sheets and pillow
cases, strong towels and few table cloths
had been sent the day before, so this sort 0
thing was not needed; but here was new
churn bought, and altogether new furnish
ings for the dairy, several modern invention
to make the work of a woman easier. Sc
of chairs, table and an easy lounge for tn
parlor, some cretonne covered with appl
blossoms and white thorn clusters, and pals
brooms and tinware that would have mad
Wealthy happy woman, crowded the over
full wagon before they turned homeward.
The old house began to smile and blossom
under this new dispensation, and the neS
mistress smiled too. Amasa MIXED the COW
for her, and lifted the heavy pals of milk tt
strain into the b light new pans; he filei thu
woodbox by the stove twice a day, put a pa
tent pump into the old well. and as it stoo
above the house, ran pipe down into
sink set in the woodshed, and so put an en-
to the drawing and carrying of water.
The fat, round, placid pigs that now en-
loved themselves ia the new pen, he too
care of himself. sit isn't work for women
folks" he said. you've got enough to dc
Mary; there's the garden you'll have an ey
on, and the chickens if you're mind to; II
going to build henhouse'a and a yard to
right off, tnatll be good enough for you
well as the chickens: and l want you t
promise if any time the work gets NIT
heavy and worries you, you'll speak RICH
out. can afford to have everything wor
out rather than my vile"
Really, it paidl 1t does pay, my masculin
friends, to give any woman kindly wor
row and then; If you had done it oftener-
or your fathers had-in the past, the Righ
of Women never would have angered
bored you as they do now; or unsexed an
made strident and clamorous that half
creation which is and always was unreasoi
able enough to have hungry hearts. Try
. and see.
Amasa was wise above his generation;
had seen his mother suffer and learned
lesson. Mary never pinned for kindly appr'
citation of her work or help ia it, When 81
! had door cut through into the parlor, I'll
stiff chairs and sofa banished, the flower
curtains hung at either window, the gay ca
pet down and the furniture set in plac
| with her wedding present-an easy stuEe