Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1893-02-24
men Mrs. Bradley copld not resls,

say AHE-
"And the farmers wives? They, too,
have a good rest in the winter-fairly
idle, aren't they?"
sOh. no, there's plenty of. work, but
it isn't hard. In the fall after the ber-
ries are put up, comesttf ttf..s-srS ing Of
apples ana pumpkins. Then thtress
sausages to make and lard al4G-tati,--
TO try out When all that's done there's
lot of sewing and knitting and carpet
rags Ny wife makes her own carpets,
and my clothes and the boys, all but
our Sunday coats. Then it takes a lot
of cooking to keep three or four
healthy appetites going. and we don't
have any help in winter"
His listener could scarcely keep in
dignation from her tones as she replied:
as it possible that all this is added
Il t-e ,-.-.z Of the summer? do not
wonder that according to statistics
large proportion of the women confined
in lunatic asyiums ere farmers wives
1t is dreary life. making a woman
into perfect drudge"
eWell. don't know" the farmer an
swered, musingly, 1--WE must earn our
bread by the sweat of our brows. The
Bible says that works good for us ]
guess it is, and a wise provision of
Providence. / don't knows it's any
worse for women than It Is for men"
But il seems to me that the lot OF
the farmers wife IS less desirable than
that of her husband. According to
your own account she has less leisure,
and then he seems to have more variety
in his work, and it is relieved by small
pleasures. In summer Sis work is
mostly out of doors; then he jumps into
his wagon and is off to town two or
three times a week on errands; and his
neighbor often happens along and leans
on the fence and talks. At noon he
takes a nap in his chair or reads his
paper few minutes; but according to
my observation farmers wife is a
drudge. She seems to have no time for
these little rest places, and the conse-
quence is, all is dreary and monotonous.
1t is no wonder she loses her mind and
has paralysis, for her work is never
done"
Deacon Bates sat silent a minute
while he thoughtfully stroked the gray
stubble on his chin; then he said. slow
ly: 81 DIN know, may be it's SO. never
thought about it in just that way"
Mrs. Bates came around the corner of
the house just then and took down
some clothes from the line in the side
yard. Her husband watched her me-
chanicSlly as she folded and placed
them in the basket
''Your wife is marvel to me, accom-
plishing all she does" Mrs Bradley
said as she watched her; but she looks
worn; she will break some day sudden
ly, fear. II would make a wonderful
difference in this house to have her
busy hands and feet still forever,
wouldn't it?'
The deacon turned and looked at
Mrs. Bradley half wildly. as if such a
thing had never before crossed his
mind Then he got up, strobe over to
the line just as his wife was about to
lift the heavy basket Of clothes, and
taking il from her carried It into the
house. She followed, amazed.
Not since the first years of her mar
ried life had ''Dan'l" offered to do any
of her work What had come over
him?
When Deacon Bates had anything
special on his mind he was wont to be-
tale himself to the orchard He went
there now and sat down on low
gnarled limb, and, leaning his head
against u tree, tried to think over the
tormenting words Mrs. Bradley had
just spoken. They nettled him. He
told himself she ought to mind her own
business. But after all he had himself
to blame. BY his own confession his
wife was hard worried woman. It
was too bumiIiatingI lie had prided
himself upon being kind to animals and
considerate toward help. Was it pos
sible he had been cruel to his own wife?
1t must look SO, or a good woman like
Mrs. Bradley would not have spoken as
she did.
The deacon was a good man. He was
not going to spare himself now that his
eyes were getting wide open. He went
back over the years when they first
came to this farm. when "Cynthy" was
young and bright She used to talk and
laugh then. What had changed her
iuto tho silent woman she now was?
"If her busy hands and feet should be
still foreverp' What awful wordsl He
had no more calculated on any change
Of that kind than that the old eight
day clock which had ticlsed on for forty
years should suddenly leave its place.
And then, that dreadful thought about
farmers wives becoming insane. He
had read enough to know that melar-
choly is one species of insanity. What
II that state should be slowly coming
upon his wife, for certainly she
grew more silent and sad year by year.
1t must be that she did work too hard,
for when he came to reckon it up and
tell over to Mrs. Bradley all the work
she did summer apd winter. 1t was more
than be had supposed How could she
get any time for reading or going out?
And now that he thought of IL she never
went anywhere, except to church, and
not always there, because often she
was too tired. How different II used to
bel Once she frequently went to town
with him and they occasionally took
tea with neighbor or drove in to the
sewing society. But of late years
work had been SO pressing that there
had been no time for going or inviting
company He had just gone on buy ing
more land and more cows and employ
ing more men, SO adding to her labor,
while she had but the one helper she
used TO have when the farm was small
And as IL this was not enough he had
encouraged her to go on taking summer
.boarders occasionally, as she had her
self suggested long ago, one year when
the crops had failed And he pretend
ing to think she did It all because she
loved work SO much. That was all stuff
Hc had seen her stand in the door
and look after him, when he rode
off TO town on pleasant afternoon,
and he had heard something like rigb
Just as he started. The dear, patient
woman had not complained or said
sharp words; he wished she had, then
maybe her pig-headed husband might
have seen things as they were. The
truth was, the love of money had taken
possession of him, and he had sacrificed
everything. He had not even limited TO
his wife that she must spare herself,
and he had forgotten TO speak words
of praise. He hated himself For, al
though he had been mean and selfish
and grasping, he still loved the wife Uf
his youth. What would all the money
and land he had scraped together be to
him when he had laid her in the old
burying ground? The sturdy farmer.