The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-04-17
Seeds that Will Grow.

very little girl, father sent ME into
the cornfeld one morning to drop
pumpkin seeds.
IA seed in every other bill in every
other row." was the injunction called
after me as I crossed the chip-yard,
seed-box and dipper in hand, on my
way to the corntield.
At first, my task seemed nothing but
play. The corn had already been
planted; and the flat hoe-mark on the
top of each hill plainly marked where
I was to crowd the pumpkin seeds in
to the mellow earth. Row after row I
followed up and down the field, skip
ping one, planting one but still the
box of seeds did not become empty.
"Drop the field as far as the seeds
will CO." was another command l had
received; and many Il longing look
did l cast at the cool farmhouse in the
distance and then at the contents of
that box, as the forenoon wore away,
and the sun grew hot.
Ten times had replenished my lit
tie tin dipper from the seed-boX, a
wooden box in which window glass
had been packed, narrow and deep, so
deep it did not seem to have any bot
tom, so shook up the pumpkin seeds
again and again, to see if they were
not almost gone.
Fourteen more rows, seven Of them
to be planted, and the opposite limit of
the cornfield would he reached, and
every reason to believe that the seeds
would last till the whole field was
planted.
"Father didn't expect me to drop so
many. I heard him tell mother lie
should plant half the field with pump
kins and half with beans. really
don't believe he wants me to drop
these last seven rows" 7 argued with
myself. "I am so warm and tired, |
believe will go home" And, keep
ing sharp lookout on the porch door
that opened toward the field, and Civ
ing IL guilty glance around the prem
ises, to be sure that no one was look
ing, kicked deep hole in the mel
low soil with my bare feet, and poured
into it the remaining seeds III the box,
packing dirt over them firmly and
deep.
"if father questions me, I can tell
him I dropped them all ; and those in
the hole will never show their heads
again above ground, am positive,
they are buried so deeply" I thought,
as I retraced my steps toward the
kitchen threshold.
Father was sick with a slow fever !;
and, calling me to his bedside as l
came in, he minutely questioned me
as to how the "seeds held out"
With guilty, downcast eyes, told
him had planted the entire field as
he directed, excepting the last seven
rows.
"And you dropped all the seed?" he
asked, his wan face looking up from
the white pillows.
u eyes" 1 answered in a low tone,
nd then moved to the window.
Because" he continued, Neigh
Dor Burns wanted O few seeds lately, if
we had any to spare. thought sure
ly there would be pint or more LEFT.
Tell John to plant beans in every hill
of the rows that contain no pumpkin
Seeds"
"If I had only known he intended
having beans planted in one row and
pumpkins in the next, [ never would
have buried those Seeds" [ thought,
standing there conscience. smltten.
But to me there then seemed no help
for what had done.
Each day for two weeks [ secretly
visited that grave of pumpkin seeds in
the centre of the cornfield, to be sure
there was no cracking of the earth to
let green germs through into the sun
light; but I found no sign that there
was life beneath. Then relaxed my
vigilance, and in few weeks had for
gotten,-not my sin, but the possible
ty of the seeds sprouting.
The last of July father was able to
creep over his fields lying near the
house, by the help of his cane. III
one of his walks, l joined him; and to-
gether we passed through the corn
field, the hills now waving with corn
q foot in height, and pumpkin vines
Just branching over the ground be-
tween the rows. Our footsteps were
suddenly arrested by a perfect tangle
of vines, whose matted network Gov
cred large circular spot visible in the
corn.
"Why, why! how is this?" eX-
claimed father. STOPPING to critically
examine the ground. "ITcre are vines
by the score, dwarfed because they
were so thickly planted, but pumpkin
vines, surely"
My heart gave great thump, as the
truth flashed across my mind. This
was the very spot where I had hidden
those seeds; and, owing to the depth
of soil that covered them, they had
terminated slowly, but had struggled
into the light at last to condemn me.
I dared not speak; and father re-
mained silent, poking his cane in the
ground among the vines until he had
unearthed heap of swollen seeds,
some decaying, but more with coiling,
long, pale sprouts creeping from their
shells, and others with well-developed
cotyledonous leaves. At last, he look
ed up, and, keenly scanning my crim-
son. conscious face, said, "Daughter
Helen, is this your work"
There was such q ring of love and
grief in his tones / was conqu cred al
once and, throwing myself at his feet
I sobbed forth the whole story.
Father did not scold. He said my
own remorseful thoughts and loss OF
self-respect were punishment enough !;
but, going home, he told me, in his inn
pressive, beautiful way, that bad hab-
its and bad motives in life may be hid,
like seeds under the ground, from the
eyes of the world for time, but soon-
er or later their rank growth will push
their way through any cloak of hypoc-
risy that had been carefully drawn
over them.
When 1 see young people indulging
in intemperate habits of any kind, Sc
cretly favoring the society of immoral,