The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1896-04-23
HE ASKED FOR BUTTERMILK.
And the Weary Waiter Lived Over Again
the JOYS of the Farm.

the JOYS of the Farm.
CLOVIS the buttermilk ?" asked the
tired man; and the weary waiter looked
the ennui he felt as he answered:
"Churned fresh every hour"
"Well, now, give me glass from the
last hour, and let her be full said the
tired man. Then he unfolded the mid
night edition, smiling as if memories
haunted him, and never seeing line of
ali the black type which tried to startle
stated humanity He was thinking of
huttermilk fresh from the churn, and
the big, staring headlines were as blank
paper before him. The weary waiter
disturbed his reveries.
'Buttermilk's all out, sir"
He said the ''sir" as one who follows n
vacant form, and meant nothing by it.
I'm sorry" said the tired man, talk
ing coffee and sandwich--of course
and still conjuring up pictures of the
country.
Great thing when you're tired" said
he, smiling, and looking past the weary
waiter and the coffee urn, and the blank
wall beyond. La! l can hear the soft
chug of the churn dasher yet when the
butter is coming. Gets lighter then,
and splashes inside, and the yellow
drifts wash down from the hollows in
the lid, and you hit twice half way az q,
once clear down, and-butter's GOMEZ
The weary waiter smiled without re-
leasing his stare at the street, silent j.
midnight darkness.
"And they put the buttermilk down in
the springhouse in a great big jar, and
the water swishes around it, and there's
4 board on top, with stone to keep it
down. And Sunday morning you curry
the horses and turn them out on the
clover pasture, and dive off the bank in
the river and take wash, and put on
a clean hickory shirt and your Sunday
clothes, and lay down in the shade of
the apple tree in the long, soft grass,
and catch the wind from the woods and
the music of the COW bells far away
and then you think of the buttermilk."
"That's right" said the weary waiter,
as he rearranged the sugar bowl and
spoon holder.
And you go down and dip it up with
i big tin cup, and drink it in great big
swallows, and the other boys come in
and we all sit there and drink and talk
Of the tough times we are having, and
chatter about the girls, and josh each
other about going home with them
from meeting, and after while dinner is
ready, and we go in and eat fried
chicken and mashed potatoes, and bis
cults and custard pie"
"U-m-m," said the weary waiter, fer
vently.
And then again along in the after
noon," resumed the tiIed man, 1--WE get
out there when the sun is down, and we
have another cupful, and the whippoor-
will is booming from some place up in
the clouds, and the katydid is telling of
the frost just six weeks ahead, and the
cattle are standing along the barnyard
fence, with the smell of fresh milk in
the mellow air, and the tin cup has yell
low flecks all over the sides, and we fill
it again and drink"
''Or in the harvest field" said the
weary waiter.
Yes, when the women folks send il
out in jug, with slab of ginger bread
in the long forenoon, and we take great
swallows"
"And sweat"
"And sweat, and buckle down with
the cradle and the rake, and set up {,
shock to shade the buttermilk-'
And rain comes up, and we run for
the barn" The weary waiter stood
erect, and smiled delightedly.
"Ah. yes! All, yes! That was life,
after all"
The tired man took his check to the
desk and waited outside for an owl car
to come along; but all the time he was
thinking of that mellow nectar, which
nIingles the acids and sweets of rural
ecstacy, and all the tired insistence OF
his journey home could not impress the
city's hopelessness upon him.-Nash-
ington Star.