St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1889-01-12

1 AVsVAAu8 0AA 8rOuuO. I0OO(
strawberries to be replanted, and tina,
cider lost" And then John. Jr.. cam,
around to my chair. slipped his grow
Ing arms about my neck, and gave me
kiss. That settled it.
This was the first session Of thai
terrible day. Iwish it could have
ended just then. But 1t did not.
1t was one Of those soft days
OF gold In autumn when the world
closes In around you in a companiona.
Ole way. All sounds reach you on such
oay as II they had some relation "a
yourself Wagons rattle across the val.
ley full OF corn or stalks, and others
full Of red apples. and you hear them
rs II close at hand. So the world is all
q neighbOrhood. You never at any
other time feel so gentle and kindly.
Caterpillars crawl safely across your
track. although you know their mis-
sion IL mischievous. Such days are
made for poace, and rest. and delicious
dreaminess. and friends, and friendly
books. such as those Of Charles Eghert
Craddock and dear DIR. Holmes. and
other good painters and jolly laughers.
They arc the only days when l wish
were not woman, but q squirrel. or
something that could quickly climb
every red-leaved tree to the very top,
and sit in the punches OF beech nuts
and laugh and chatter to myself, in
poems and anticipations.
No. shall not tell you any more OF
my tribulations. Only I assure you
that the day was like the morning.
and have no way Of expressing it.
unless, unless it DO that some days are
possessed. Perhaps q little of the
difficulty lay with myself-my irri-
tability-a very little to be sure. But
now / will tell you that some other
days are possessed also, only they are
possessed with care and sound diges-
ton. and self-control and hundred
other good angels that are always fly
ing about ready to make fine days for
us. For my part l do not see that
much trouble comes Of care; it is only
the not taking care that makes the
trouble. II each one in household
bears his-or her fair share. every day
will be we'll possessed with delight
1t will never do for US to be careless.
Therefore I do not wish to pray for .
life free from care. II one were walk
ing on golden pavements, / think he
must take care not to get very tired
OF 1t, wishing for q clover field.
and a lane that smells of mint, and
dew. and wild asters. There are no
days quite as fine as the ''eveyy days."
when nothing very special occurs-no
picnics, or visitors, or birthdays
at all but twelve hours full OF
kindliness and sunshine. when there ID
done but duty. That. I take
it, is what We are to aim after-an
every day lovablcness. know a few
families who are never quite happy
only at home. They do not take much
interest in public Occasions-probably
not quite enough; for one should 60 to
the county fair for the good of other
fOlks;and as for lectures and sOciables,
they are a needful evil, full of good. and
not to be dispensed with. am even in
clined to believe that church festivals
can not be dispensed with. I would
attend and aid such, in . select way.
h an element OF hui
man nature not to be quickly sloughed
off.
This day Of mine draws to a close,
and ! am glad to say it has been ono
of those possessed Of sweetness and
light. The whole world rests. The
work OF the year is done. think
near the last Of the days passing by.
humming quietly with the bees. whose
hives are full, and now have only to
suck the sweets of latest flowers and
sleep in the shine OF the golden hours.
Il have finished the work Thou gnvest
ne to dor That is the delight OF the
rear. Farewell. calm day Of rest and
,eace. dip my pen once more in the |
nix. The hour strikes twelve. Only
or the chasm of this deep. rich, grow.
ng silence of night, should long since |
lave left my room for sleep. But the |
ompani0nableness Of night I must |
ave occasionally. have dipped my
zen only to keep from too deep medi- |
being lost in too remote |
reams 1t is done. GOOd-night.-I
Nary E. Spencer, ~ st. Louis Globe
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