Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1890-01-15
TWO BUSHELS OF CORN.
How Farmer Brown Succeeded In
Performing a Good Deed.

e@SW - cNA AAOA OIOWA OuCCO0000 III
Performing a Good Deed.
Farmer Brown was Smelling four bush
els of corn on the cob, which, according
to the mathematics and tabular weights
and measures of old New England days,
would make two bushels of corn for the
purpose of the farm bin or the miller
He was Smelling the four bushels Of corn
by the use Of a common cob in his right
hand, which cob he used to remove the
kernels by pressure. This old-time way
OF Smelling corn made the hands hard
and horny, and the muscles of the wrist
strong. Woe be to the culprit who
should have fallen into the hands Of a
professional corn-shellerl He might as
well have been bound with withes of
hornbine. The boy who felt the witty
grasp Of such left hand, and the appli-
cation Of buttonwood rod by such a
right hand, was sure to have his mem
ory permanently quickened, and the les
son usually proved effectal. Such farm
ers, from their lordly dialogues with
their oxen, had strong voices as we'll as
hands, and when one Of them said ''boy'
1t meant much. And hoy" was just the
word that Farmer Brown said while
Smelling corn.
Harry Brown, the "boy," started.
''Boy" was word of command from the
generalissimo of the farm.
"Sir?"
Mrs. Brown was sitting in the arm
chair by the stand, knitting by the tai
low candle. Mr.. Brown was Smelling
corn because he had nothing else to do,
and Mrs. Brown was knitting because
she had nothing else to do, and Harry
Brown was studying a music book by
good old William Billings, of Stoughton,
because he sang in the choir of Hard
Scrabble Church-which was real
name, and not one made up for story
telling purposes.
Harry had been drawing ''do, mi, sol,
do" when the word of command came.
hoy, seeing we have so much to be
thankful for, I'm going to do Just the
right thing by my duties"
Mrs. Brown dropped her needles.
What was going to happenP She was
O thrifty, frugal woman--was Mr.. Brown
going to give away something out of their
hard earnings and savings? If so, what
and to whomP Nounworthy person, she
hoped. "I've been thinking over this
bushel of corn-I always do deal of
thinking when am Smelling corn"
What you been thinking about,
Eben?''
about the sermon that Elder Leland
preached on the text: For if We love
them that love you, what reward have
ye: do not even the publicans SOP
Now, Peter Rugg has not used me Just
right and am going to make him a
present of two bushels of corn. And
boy-you shall carry it over to him to
morrow morning on horseback"
Mrs. Browns cap border lifted. She
dove at the shutters, and snuffed the
candle with spiteful dive at the long
black wick.
"Ebenp
SWELL, EuniceY'
'Peter Rugg just gets his living by
doing nothin', don't hep
Eyes, but he is sick now; and you
know the text. There's no merit in do.
in just what you want to do, and havin
your own way and will, and lookin' fol-
reward, Elder Leland says"
''And Peter Riggs wife, she goes
n-visitin' for alvin, and eats up every
bOdy's plum-cake and apple sass"
Eyes, yes, but Peter was shiftless-
born so, tired like-and she had to cal
something-and he's sick now"
well, don't approve no such doin's,
don't believe in encouragin' idleness,
If q man will not work, neither shall he
cat! There now, Eben!"
''Do, mi, sol, do" sang Harry.
"Ihe morning sun shines from the east
And spreads its glories to the west
lie was practicing the lode on
Science" the browning attainment oil
all musical efforts in these simple sing,
ing-school days.
''Well, do declare, Eben, hope II
you send two bushel of corn, of your
shellin', too, to that shiftless Peter
Rugg-I do hope"
"What, Eunice?"
''That it will never get there"
''Shol Eunice; that amt the RICH
sperit-when our barns and cribs ar,
full, too, and Peter is the only real poo
person in the town, too, and he's tn,
only one in all the world that hasn'
used me quite right, too. I'll have t,
send It to him, or else be very poor an,
mt1n III SOuls anu Win
a feelin' that haven't done my duty
and been grateful for all my blessin's
Eunice. I'm goin' to do IL, anyhow"
''Well, all that I've got to say is tina
lido hope the grist will never get there.
Now, boy, you may 60 to singin'
school"
Harry slipped away with the parallel
ogtam of an american Vocalist" under
his arm. The singing school made grea,
progress on the lode on Science" tina,
night. and Harry had descended into
those deep and cavernous- regions Of
solemn bass foundations with the ambi,
tion Of basso profund0.
The moon was hanging over the darh
shoulders of Greylock, and the hghts
glimmering on Stafford Hill, as he re-
turned. 1t was a crisp night, with q
CLEAN Of frost crystals everywhere in
the bare harvest fields, the blue gentiar
pastures and alluvial cranberry mead
ows. He continued to sing--he could
not help It; the piece haunted him
Nothing at all so wonderful as the ac
complishment of that piece by the sing
ing-school had ever before come into hi:
experience. The words, too, were mag
ical to him--like a new world. So, In
the new creations Of the poet and com
poser, he logged along, singing, until he
came to the graveyard where Captain
Joab Stafford and the heroes 81 Ben