The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, 1885-11-10


wheat, but save the blamed weeds.
There war only ono stump on the $40
acres OF prairie land, just one stump,
an hope / may go to seed before
thanksgivin' IL that girl didn't run In
to it an break the reaper. Lost all
the rest Of that day a mendin' Of It.
Next day she was proud am conf
dent she could drive alone. Well. we
tied her into the seat so's't she couldn't
fall off, an she started. Two rods
from the start a big black snake stuck
up his head-an' you know how slick
them knives amputate a snake2 Miss
Ella, she gives a faint little squeak,
an faints dead away. My boy Joe
he's always hangin' around-he jump
ed for the horses, took Miss Ella down
and carried her to the house. Money,
nor healthy tan, nor rugged appetite,
nor nothin' couldn't coax Miss Ella
Witchazel into that field ag'in, an we
got through h%arvestin' all right.
Land, how the men LATED. And yet
we all liked the girl. But the idea of
her farmin-why do you know sir,
one day in haydn she went to town
took one of my best work-horses an
was gone all day-an' came back with
bout twenty yards Of blue and white
ribbon an tied EN- on the mems hats
and the rake handles, and wanted us
all to wear billed shirts. with the sleeves
Topped upi with the blue ribbins, go
marchin' out to the hay field, me Mt the
head with the most and longest rib
bins, a singin'. eve merry haymak-
ers, ira, la, la, la, lal" She saw it done
once that way in a concert or theayter,
an thought that was the way haydn
was always done. An she was so
vexed that she cried when we wouldn't
wear EN-. Law, when I put on that
hat, ma laid back and laughed till the
tears ran down her dear cheeks. sob
Thistlepod." she said. eff you go out an
work in that rig. you'll scare away the
grasshoppers." Ny boy Joe, he did
wear his hat out, but he hid it under
the hedge when he got out of sight of
the house. 1 told Joe he was the big
gest fool I I'VE see.
Well, Miss Ella got along fairly we'll
after wheat harvest. Gathered some
graceful sprays, she called 'em, of
poison ivy one day, aud couldn't see
of n eye for nigh q week. One
day she took a tin pail to 60 out, after
berries. and when she went through
the COW pasture the COWS thought there
was salt in the pail and chased her
till she was nigh ready to drop. And
she went to the barn once an tried to
harness a young Tuckahoe colt that |
had e had a halter, on him, an
how she got out of that stable alive s |
more'n I can tell. But what I wanted
to say is, that that's about the way
the young women, who farm SO grace
in the newspapers, usually farm on
the farm. But we liked her. An we
to see her go. An she will
make a splendid wife for some man,
if she can't run a farm. but I don't
know about your young men comm
out to look after her, for when she
said good-by to me to go back to town,
she throwed her arms around my neck
GIN me such a kiss that I says to
my boy Joe, standin' by the wagon to
take her to town, he was always some.
where around, "Joe," I says. you'd
give your share in the farm for that
Joe he didn't seem to care for any
thing Of the kind, an Miss Ella, she
up an give me another squeeze an a
kiss, an 1 saw her looking over my
shoulder at my boy Joe and-haw !
haw haw !