St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1892-09-08
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BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW.

toll looks from eyes which have seen
none of the gilded gladness of life
Child of the seasons and the soil, he
4 ploughs and plants, and never
wonders why another reaps. His
thoughts are not OF government or
laws, but rather of rows of corn, of
seedtime and harvest, of winnowed
wheat and shocks of fodder brown
ing in the sun. Between the hard lines
OF his life he has read none of the poetry
that sets aglow the pulses of the
children of leisure
A pair of gaunt horses stand sleep
lily at the fence. In the dull and
west the spring sun hangs
lazily just above the hills. To the
least, a feet of clouds, dark and
4 Threatening, sails across the sky !;
and the wind, rising, blows the grain
sea tered from the farmers hand far
out over the field Off in the north
and south, battalion of thunder
heads" made shining by the rays of
4 the retrea ting sun, tell of the ap-
! preaching shower. A moment later,
a sullen, prolonged roar sets the earth
to trembling, and then the April
/ deluge, with chill borrowed from
the old winter, comes down to freeze
4 the marrows of man and beast The
! farmer makes shift to mount one of
4 the animals, and, leading the other,
4 rides toward the lane half hidden by
4 the slanting streams of rain that
! dance down through the sunlight.
<Suddenly the downpour ceases, and
4 the clouds roll away in a sound of
i muf1ed sobs, growing softer until
i lost to hearing: From the skeletons
of CHASTITY weeds, myriads of bril-
liants tremble and glisten in the dy-
ing light. The air is rife with
the scent of new-ploughed earth.
Spurred by their appetites, the
stumbling horses hurry homeward.
In the dusk of the evening, the
man dismounts, and, putting the
beasts in their places, unha rnesses
and feeds them, as he has done count
! less times before. A few lean hogs
squeal hungrily in a pen near by.
To them he throws some ears of
corn, and stands dumbly in the
gathering dusk, listening to their
quiet grunts of satisfaction. Then
he goes to the house, and, returning
4 low, deep brea thing of the beast
soothes him. He sits idly upon the
stool, listening TO the sound, long af-
ter his task is finished. Going into
the kitchen; his wife, a tall, thin
faced woman of perhaps forty years,
meets him at the door.
81 wuz afeerd somethin ID happen
ed to We, Ike" she said.
She strained the milk while her
husband slowly washed his face and
hands. A supper OF fat bacon, coffee
and corn bread waited upon the
table.
"They amt no butter, she remark
ed, as they sat down to eat. ut
takes near all l kin make with butter
and eggs to git the coffee and sugar"
Lem Smith been here today" he
asked. "He said he'd drop around
an leave word whether he'd be a
goin' to town tomorrow or not"
NO, he amt been here that
know Nv"
1t is late when they go to bed.
For while he lies and listens to the
wind, and watches the occasional
flashes Of lightning that make the
little window of their bedroom stand
out for an instant like one cut in the
wall of black dungeon.
He and his faithful wife had come
to the farm fifteen years before.
Their means were small, and they
had done as thousands of others do
"gone in debt" for their land. But
somehow, in spite of their work,
though they were saving and careful
of every cent, the debt remained.
Each year found him barely able to
live after paying interest and taxes.
Yet he did not complain, for he had
been taught to work; he knew moth
ing besides. His father had toiled
just so before him, and left family
burdened with debt.
Very early the next morning he
harnessed the horses to a wagon,
and drove out into the highway. As
he shut the gate, a neighbor came up
on foot
Hello, Ike"
"Howdy, Lem"
Coin to town ?"
Yes; climb in eff you want to ride -
Il lowed I'd go in an see Fletcher
Flint about my loan," Ike said
Its comm due tomorrer, an I've
got to have it extended, l reckon.
He told me last time l seed him
'the'd hev to raise the interest two
per cent, as he says money il awful
scarce an clus''
Beats all how tight money is.
I'm agoin' to try fur loan on my
bosses an hogs. I've got ter have
little cash to pay my doctors bill
an fur my groceries. Nancy's sick
ness run me benin fearful last win,
ter, replied Lem.
sickness il a bad thing. I tell
Lise that we've been awful lucky
Wv course they's only me an
her to look after, but | don't see how
we could git along if one NV us wuz