Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1889-05-23
Seeds Tint VIII Grow.

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very little girl, father sent me into the
cornfeld one morning to drop pumpkin
seeds.
"a seed in every other hill in every
other row." was the injunction called
after me as / crossed the chip-yard,
seed-box and dipper in hand, on my
way to the cornfield.
At first my task seemed nothing but
play. The corn had already been
planted, and the fiat hoe-mark on the
top of each hill plainly marked where
i was to crowd the pumpkin seeds into
the mellow earth. Row after row L
followed up and down the field, skip
ping one, planting one; and still the
box of seeds did not become empty.
drop the field as far as the seeds
will 60" was another command | had
received; and many longing look did
l cast at the cool farmhouse in the dis
lance, and then at the contents of that
box, as the forenoon wore away, and
the sun grew hot.
Ten times had l replenished my
little tin dipper from the seed box in
which window glass had been packed,
narrow and deep, so deep it did not
seem to have any bottom, as l 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 cornfeld would be 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. l heard him tell mother he
should plant half the field with pumpkins
and half with beans. | really don't be-
lieve he wants me TO drop these last
seven rows" argued with myself. Il
am so warm and tired, believe l will
out on the porch door, that opened to-
ward the field, and giving the guilty
glance around the premises, TO be sure
that no one was looking, l kicked a
deep hole in the mellow soil with my
bare feet, and poured into il the remain
ing seeds in the box, packing dirt over
them firmly and deep.
IF father questions me, can tell
him | dropped them all; and those in
the hole will never show their heads
again above ground, am positive, they
are buried so deeply" l thought, as
retraced my steps toward the kitchen
threshold.
Father was sick with a slow fever;
and, calling me to his bedside as | came
in, he infinitely questioned me as TO
how the "seeds held out.
With guilty, downcast eyes, told
him / ha1 n1apfol tha fi,.a cold 1,a
directed, excepting the last seven rows.
And you dropped all the seed?" he
asked, his wan face looking up from the
white pillows.
Yes" | answered in a low tone, and
then moved to the window.
because, he continued, "Neighbor
Burns wanted few seeds badly, if we
had any to spare | thought surely
there would be a point or more left.
Tell John TO plant beans in every
hill of the rows that contain no pump
kin seeds"
IF / 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 smitten. But
TO me there seemed no help for what |
had done.
Each day for two weeks l secretly
visited that grave Of pumpkin seeds in
the centre of the corn field, TO be snre
there was no cracking OF the earth to
let green germs through into the sun
light; but | found no sign that there
was life beneath. Then | relaxed my
vigilance, and in a few weeks had for
gotten, not my sin, but the possibility
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. In one
of his walks, joined him; and together
we passed through the cornfeld, the
hills now waving with corn a foot in
height, and pumpkin vines just branch
ing over the ground between the rows.
Our footsteps were suddenly arrested
by a perfect tangle OF vines, whose
matted network covered large circu-
lar spot visible in the corn.
why, why! how is this?" exclaimed
father, STOPPING to critically examine
the ground. Here are vines by the
score, dwarfed because they were so
thickly planted, but pumpkin vines,
surely"
My heart gave a great thump, as the
truth flashed across my mind. This
was the very spot where l had hidden
those seeds; and, owing to the depth
of the soil that covered them, they had
terminated slowly, but had struggled
into the light at last to condemn me.
dare not speak; and father remain.
ed silent, poking his cane in the
ground among the vines until ne had
unearthed a 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 looked
uD, and, keenly scanning my crimson,
conscious face, said, Daughter Helen,
is this your work."
There was such n ring of love au6
grief in his tones was conquered al
once; and throwing myself at his feet
sobbed forth the whole story.
Father did not scold. He said my
own remorseful thoughts and loss oil
self-respect were punishment enough
but, going home, he told me in his i'm.
pressiNe, beautiful way, that bad habits
| l..