The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1890-07-03
FARMER BELLS RAKeA1N.

Sweetened with maple syrup. lie ulun
notice that the table-cloth was snowy
white, and the glasses and china wer'
polished and lintless. He didn't stop tC
tell poor tired-looking Mrs. Bell tha
she was the best cook in York county
He knew it, and boasted of it away from
home; but then it wasn't his way ''tel
speak out a-praisin' his own family
Besides, the griddle-cakes and Mrs
Bell belonged to him; and he declared
it as his policy ''ter keep only the very
best ov every kind er stuff, from the
women folks in the house down to tht
primest pertater patch on the country
roads,"
Farmer Bell took his hat from its peg
in the entry-way and sauntered down
the shady walk At the foot of the
garden he found his good neighbor
Dea. Bonus, attending to the weeds
and potato-bugs just across the garden
fence.
Although the neighbOrs hadn't met
for several days, there was no conven
tional greeting, not even a "Howdy,
for Farmer Bell wasn't in any way a
conventional man. He claimed to be
simply square" and took pride in the
sharp corners that stuck out on every
side of his nature. He had no SYM
pathy for any sensitive person who
couldn't stand the hard knocks they
got round in his neighborhOOd." Yet,
underneath all this rough masonry, in
side which he encased himself, there
was a soul that scorned every form of
double-dealing with God or man. He
was just as square" with one as the
other.
He wasn't q religious man. He sell
dom if ever went to church nowadays.
For" he said, "Tll never make no
truck an dicker with the Lord jest to
make sure of gettin' inter heaven. In
the end he's likely to come out fust
best. When the Lord calls shall make
it a pint to be up and dressed. But
he'll hev to take me with my ev'ry-day
clothes on. / shan't have on no Sunday
fixings. want ter pass for jest what
I'm wuth an no more"
'Keeps yer pretty lively, deacon, a
huntin' them calikerbacks, eh?"
"Yes, rather, replied the deacon, as
he shipped at a vine where a strong army
of the destructive beauties were huddled
together.
"There amt no calkerlatin' on them
chaps. They're nuisance created for
what purpose never could make out" ="
added the farmer, who went on to eX-
plain what he considered to be the best
method of ''squelchin the derned
things"
The neighbors chatted about crops,
the weather and politics, and just as all
talk is likely to end they fell to discus
ing religion.
"They say Neighbor Green has got
most through, deacon, an they've
g., 30,
college,
"Indeed! Is it true that we must
spare him? A good Christian man. All,
him. Twill be pretty sad for the family
and father. Well, well this neighbor-
haven't many like Brother Green; no,
not many" And the deacon's face spoke
I the sincere sorrow of his heart.
Farmer Bell drummed bit on the top
rail, looked up and down the valley and
said nothing. He was thinking what
the deacon would probably have said
had he, Josiah Bell, been lying near to
death, like Neighbor Green. The thought
wasn't very pleasant He knew very
well that no one would think of calling
him "a good Christian man, 'or kind,
indulgent husband and father" For the
first time in his life the truth forced it
self upon him that there would not be
much about him thatpeople could praise,
except, perhaps, that he was square,
and owed no man cent"
Then vision of a darkened room, and
people moving about softly, with drawn
faces, such as are seen always in the
house of death, came to him. There, in
the front room, he, Josiah Bell, was ly.
ing, and the neighbors had come in to
help at the funeral. Mary and John
were there. But, somehow, there were
few tears, if any. He could see the par
son, too; but there was no ring of sorrow
in his voice. And the singers, why they
sang Old China as though it were a sort
of Christmas tune, so gladsOme-like and
CHEEKY. And, stranger still, he could
hear the boys shouting in the play.
ground just beyond his house, not think.
ing it worth while to stop their sport
because such disagreeable old codgei
was out of the way even long
enough to let the funeral go on.
OF course this was only vision. But
it meant great deal to Farmer Bell. II
illumined his darkened understanding
as no human voice Orargument could do
He had spent many an hour with the
deacon; when going the round of dis
cussion time after time the farmer would
swing the outer circle with what he be
lieved was this "clincher' that the dea
con never tried to combat. never coulC
stan the idee of this livin' in the go-as
you-please style all yer lifetime, ther
buying up lot of religious stock jest il
time for the rise. Ef I'm goin' to ask
the Lord to make a good Christian Ou
of me, I've got ter make bargain will
him as will hold me clus and fast te
doin' bout right every day. / dom
calkerlate that if | should get down OI
my knees an tell the Lord what lot
think on him, an how much I'm willinI
to do for him, an then go out inter tn
barn an trade horses crooked that he,
be fooled inter believin' that I'd go
religion. An its my opinion, deacon
that the Lord amt a-goin' ter trust an,
man to go into heaven, and send him te
walk through the golden streets when h
knows that afore he'd been there al
hour, ner even half an hour, he
be down on to his knees a tearing up tn
pavements an tryin to stuff 'em int
his breeches pockets"
Still the farmer stood by the fence, an
his silence and the frozen look upon hi
lface forbade the deacon to address hil
further. The vision of that darkene
room would not depart. 1t stood liR
an accusing angel, and burned letters I
fire into the soul of its victim. His hea
dropped lower and at last rested upC
his arms crossed above the top rail
the garden fence. A strange trem'
shook his frame, like the chill that TO
bodies sickness.
The deacon questioned, 'Are you i
NeighbOr Bell?
No answer, only movement as
raising his bowed head; then it sal
again upon his arm.
'Do you feel a chill, neighbor? II
n air is damp. Will you throw my co
across your shOulders? urged the de
con very gently, at the same time taxi
the garment from the post at hand al
spreading it protectingly upon him.
Still no answer, only the voices of {
evening birds, and the low music of {
brook that skirted the garden grounds
The sun had sunk low in the W.
and touched with its last fiery gleal
the summit of the Adirondacks, risi
, tier above tier along the Eastern hO
zOn.
At last Farmer Bell, as if rousing fir,
! deep sleep, raised his head slowly a
turned toward the West.
Was II the light of the sunset Il
made his face luminous and smooth
fromhis cOuntenance all the hard bit
lines that the deacon had been wont
see there?
"rm rough old feller, deacon" s
he, speaking in strange, hoarse vol
San l don't suppose 1 ken make
understan' jes' how happen to be fix
Ye and / hev had great many talks
: gether bout the way things ought to