Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1893-11-30

- won't. am
tired and sick of it; the same thing year
after year; drudge, drudge, and no end
tc it when there amt bit of use of it;
I. tell you, Ike Staples, such life amt
worth living. and won't stand it any
longer
''Why, Jud Wiimot. how kin you
talk that air way? SIGH life amt
with living; land sakes! what on airth
do you want? Here you be with as good
a hum as any Teller kin ask fer; good
dad and mar and alters plenty to eat
and-say.Jud what bout Mandy? Be you
fergettin' her? You know your dad'll
give you that west eighty-acre piece
when you and Mandy git hitched and
by n by you'll hev the hull farm; why,
Jud, you orter be the contentedest
Teller in Injiany."
Eyes, Ike, that's all very fine. but
just the same want to see some of the
world before l settle down; it's grub.
grub, all the time; here it is Thanksgiv-
ing to morrow, but I don't feel very
thankful l can tell you; can see moth
ing ahead of me hut feed ng hogs all
winter. blowing in the spring, harvest
ng and haying in the summer, shucl&-
ing corn in the fall, and then do it all
over again the next year. No, Ike, l
have made up luy mind to go and have
one whirl anyway, and the folks hadn't
ought to object; but they will. l ex.
pect there'll be a fuss, but am going,
and right away, too, after Thanks.
giving"
Ike Staples continued his advice and
backed it up by a relation of an expe.-
rience OF bis own, winding it up by
saying how glad he was to get back
home.
Judson Wilmot glanced at the cross
roads storekeeper, for Mottville was
nothing but a crossroads, with pity
ing look, aud evidently thought thece
was a vast difference in the chances of
himself and the little old weakened fell
low seated in front of him on cracf er
barrel He said nothing, however, tx
cept to ask for the mail, and picking
up package of raisins he had pur-
chased turned to leave AS the pest
master handed him farm journal snd
New York paper, he said, with real
earnestness, while yet he chuckled:
SWELL, Jud. i 'spose you'll go, so I'll
bid you good-by; but you had better
eat big Thanksgiving dinner to-
morrer, for you'll not git any SIGH
cookin' as your 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 ize the esteem of every one.
The family consisted OF Father Wilmot.
called squire by his neighbors, the
mother, kindly old lady whose whole
happiness was bound up in her only son
Judson, and her only daughter Matte.
q bright girl Of eighteen, at home now
from school, to eat Thanksgiving dinner
with the family.
Judson was just twenty-one years old
on Thanksgiving day, and this fact and
one other had caused Mother Wilmot
to try. and Guido all previous efforts at
making the event q particularly festive
one. Judson had been given every adj
vantage for obtaining an education,
but he was by no means studious, and
with the requirement of such learning
as he could acquire from the district
school his parents were compelled to
be satisfied. It 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 four years. and no
one of the household had any suspicion
that the young man was not entirely
satisfied with his quiet, uneventful life.
He had, however, for a year been Sc
eretly chatting at the humdrum exist