The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1893-11-25

Oh l. an
tired and sick of It: the same thing yeal
after year; drudge, drudge, and no end
to it when there amt n bit of use of it
] tell You. Ike Staples. such a life ain
worth living. and | won't stand it any
longer"
Why, Jud Wilmot. how kin you
talk that air way? Sich n life am
with living; land sakes: what on airth
do you want? Here You be with as good
a hum as any Teller kin ask fer; n good
dad and mar and alters a plenty to eat
anl-say,Jud what bout Mandy? he you
fcrgcttin' her? You know your dad'll
give you that west e~ighty-acre piece
when you and Mandy git hitched and
by n by you'll hev the hull farm; why,
Jud. you orter be the c~ontentedest
Teller in Injiany."
Yes, Ike, that's all very fine. but
Just the same | want to see some of the
world before | settle down; it's grub,
grub, all the time; here it is T~hanksgiv-
ing to morrow, but | don't feel very
thankful | can tell you; | can see moth
ing ahead of me hut feed .ng hogs all
winter, blowing in the spring, harvest
ing and haying in the summer, shuck-
ing corn in the fall. and hen do it all
over again the next year. No, Ike.
have made up my mind to go and have
one whirl anyway, and the folks hadn't
ought to object; but they will. l ex-
pect thcre'll be a fuss, but | am going,
and right away, too, after Thanks.
giving"
Ike Staples continued his advice and
la .ked it up by n relation of an expe-
rierce of his own, winding il up by
saying how glad he was to get back
home.
Judson Wilmot glanced at the cross
roads stOrekeepcr. for Mottville was
nothing but a crossroads, with a pity
ing look, and evidently thought there
was Il vast difference in the chances of
himself and the little old weakened fell
low seated in front of him on 4 cracker
barrel. He said nothing, however, ex-
ccpt to ask for the mail. and picking
up 4 package of raisins he had pur-
chased turned to leave. As the post
master handed him a farm journal and
n New York paper, he said, with real
carncstness, while yet he chuckled:
We'll. Jud, | 'spose you'll go, so I'll
bid YOU good-by; but you had better
eat Il big Thanksgiving dinner to-
morrer, for you'll not git any SIGH
cookin' as ya1r mars till you git home
again"
The Wilmot farm was located about
four miles from the post Office. 1t was
perhaps the most prosperous place in
the country, and the WIlmot family
stood high in the esteem of every one.
The family consisted of Father Wilmot,
called squire" by his neighbors, the
mother, a kindly old lady whose whole
happiness was bound up in her only son
Judson. and her only daughter Matte,
a bright girl of eighteen. 1T home now
from school. to eat Thanksgiving dinner
with the family.
.IudsOn was inst twenty-one years old
on Thanksgiving day. and this fact and
one other had caused Mother Wilmot
TO try and Guido all previous efforts 1T
making the event a particularly festive
one. Judson had been given every adj
vantage for obtaining an education,
but he was by L can studious. and
with the requirement of such learning
as he could acquire from the district
school his parents were compelled to
be satisfied. 1t had thus become a
settled matter that Judson should re-
lieve his father of the burden of the
care of the farm. This he had now
done for three or our years, and no
one of the household had any suspicion
that the young man WIS not entirely
satisfied with his quiet. ~nneventful life.
lie had, however, for a year been Sc
cret!y chefng at the hupdrum exist