The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1886-08-11
9lashes Of fun.
bill SIMPSONS BARTER"

No matter how hard and ugly the
truth is, it is more pleasing than the
affectatiOn of what is not real. Ex-
posture is certain to follow people
who try to go through life behind a
mask of false pretenses. We have
little sympathy for people like Bill
Simpsons darter." A gentleman
travelling from Buffalo to New York
city tells the story:
At Albany two ladies, dressed in
the extreme of fashion, entered the
car. Their manners indicated great
atfectation and consequent shallow
ness.
The only unoccupied seat in the
car was directly behind a quiet
looking old lady, evidently from the
country. Her dress was of calico,
her bonnet of plain straw, and her
gloves were of cotton. She could not,
however, have looked neater, and
she had a good, honest face.
AS the fashionable ladies adjusted
their draperies in the unoccupied
seat, one of them said to the other:
Don't you think it too bad that
there are such poor accommodations
in railroad trains now?"
"How-in what way?" asked her
companion.
"Why, here we are crowded up in
all classes Of people, some of them
so common. Look at that person in
front Of us"
"Horrid, isn't she?'
"Perfectly dreadful"
CLOCKS like a common labOrer."
"HoW annoying to have to come
in contact with such people,
"Belongs to some ordinary family.
If one could only exclude ones self
from such persons when travelling
even short distances! | suppose it's
horrid in me to say it, but | have all
my life had such a ~repugnance to
common laboring people,"
The lady in the calico dress must
have heard a part of this conversa-
ton, but her face was perfectly COM
posed.
At that moment an elderly man
in the home-spun and homemade
garments of a farmer came down
the aisle. He stopped before the la
dies Of fashion, closely scrutinized
the features of the one having "such
a repugnance to common people,"
and, just as the train stopped at the
station, cried out loud enough to be
heard by every person in the car:
s"Lookee hyre, hain't you old Bill
Simpsons darter? But | know you
air 'thout askin'. How de do, any
how? You don't change a speck.
Got the same nose you had when
you wor a little gal O IL or Is year,
trottin' barefoot round my old farm
in Podunk county.
eyer mind how [ youst ter give
yer two bits a day and yer dinner,
fer helpin' my younguns dig taters ?
HO! no! ho!'
The young lady had dropped her
beaded veil and was nervously biting
at her fan, but the old farmer went
on heedlessly:
"Thee's been mighty lucky since
CuCH. Jul pop "Oho - W. OoiOA
aday an made a big fortin' thar, an
[ hear you live in great style. But
Bill Simpson amt the man ter fergit
old frens, an you tell i'm that you've
saw old Jack Billings, what used to
give him a-menny a days work when
he was so pore his family had ter
wait till the hens laid fore they
could hcv any breakfast. You kin
remember that y~erself, I reckon.
can there want nobody glad
der nor me when yer pap did git
rich so suddint, for he vas a mighty
hard-workin' blacksmith, an always
pore cause of bad luck.
"My wife SEE she lost an awful
good wash woman when yer ma
moved, AMI git off here. Good
by! good-by!"
The meekest, most subdued per-
son on that train during the rest of
the trip was "Bill Simpsons darter."