The record-union., 1897-08-31

a child, with sparkling blue eyes, was
holding her tightly by the hand.
It's my wife," said the halter, with
the satisfied expression of the man
whose wine needs no blush.
Look, mamma, there's somebody else
tying his horse to the fence" whispered
the little girl.
The seventh newcomer, in this case,
was a typical Yankee peddler in whom
shrewdness and kindliness We're about
equally developed. Being man of So
cial experience, he advanced leisurely,
and was soon in possession of all the
facts, to which he added a dry tale or
two of his own.
| While he spoke he quietly loosened
the cows blanket and took it off. The
creatures back and her heaving sides
steamed as if she had been dipped in a
hot bath
"She wants rubbing down." he OBJ
served. No one interfered, and cleaning
a handful of hay from the fence cor
ner, he rubbed her down systematically
from head TO tail.
The sun was by this time almost COM
lpleteIy yelled in thick haze, and as lit
tie coolness sprang up, robins began to
Ecall and katydids to pipe socially from
the branches of the sycamore tree. Mrs.
Fillow felt the long-suppressed house
wifely instinct of hospitality rising with
in her She went hastily to the kitchen,
and soon returned with glasses and
brown pitcher of homebrewed beer. This
little action seemed to give the gather
ing different character. The seven sat
down in friendly circle on the steps
and grass, and slipped and talked like
old aequaintances. The spirit of the
hour, an intangible influence making
for gentle feelings, wrought in them all.
Said the matron to the spinster: You
don't know how good it seems to have
neighbors stopping in. My husband
always lived in a town before, and he's
been terribly lonely-he can't get used
to it. You see. they don't travel this
way after snowfall" she explained to
the oeddler Last winter l was sick
in bed for three weeks, and there wasn't
person came to the house in all that
time. He hasn't got over it yet"
Felt kind O. lonesome yourself
guess said Polly, With two or three
jerks of the head more emphatic than
usual
''Oh, I can stand it pretty we'll. I
! have Effie for company and then
was brought up in the country. But
its different with a man. I worry about
Mr.. Fillow all the time. We've lived
here over year, but somehow we never
seemed to get acquainted much; the
neighbors haven't called round as I
was in hopes they would. It's off the
main road, of course, but" she hesi-
tated.
Polly could not if she would have
explained the deep-rooted distrust with
which Hinborough regards strangers,
especially those who, like the Filows,
are suspected of giving themselves
airs" She could not tell Mrs Jesse
that her prettiness and modesty, her
gentle speech, the very dress she had
on, had been charged against her at
rustic -drinkings and held suff1-
cient reason for letting her be-" She
could only say, and she said It with
unusual diffidence:
You see, when new folks come in
we expect they'll call round first"
For the first time Polly suspected
that the custom might not be a uni
versal one.
We'll. every man to his taste, Of
course" broke in Mr.. Race, feeling that
it was time to dismiss these minutiae
| of etiquette; but l wonder any one
| should throw up a good trade to try
one horse farming on a place like this,
and times what they are now. A
farm amt the place to find money ly-
| ing around loose, if that's what you
want"
Why, didn't you hear? It was on
account Of my husbands health" cried
Mrs. Fillow. leaning eagerly forward.
They use chemicals in the hat shops
to bleach the straw, and they got into
my husbands system, so the doctor
! said he wouldn't last two years If he
kept on there
We'll, now, was told he left first
rate business, So a day, to come out
here and raise ROSTERS and said the
more fool he,'' explained the farmer,
| impartially.
There's money in poultry though"
said Jesse, kindling up. Look at our
turkeys, will you; over fifty of them.
pure bronze, true to a feather, and
nearly twice as many chickens, and
I've got three acres of buckwheat and
/ a big patch of corn, and haven't spent
anything for hire. My wife helped me
with the haying. and loaded and moved
away as smart as any boy you'd ask
to see The trouble is" he went ON,
| the black cloud settling over his feat
ures again, "the winters are so long,
and there's no work to be had, and all
| the time your confounded horse is eat
! ing his head off. If I could get a
! job for the winter, and make old Nick
| earn his keep We should be all right.
But it's enough to kill a man TO have
no one to speak to from months end
/ to months end. I was thinking this
| Afternoon I believed I'd go back to the
| shop and just work till I drop, like fell
! lows I know, after all"
It was the peddler who broke the 81
| lence.
| Extracts, spices, soap and perfum-
ery,'' he said, and very odd the words
sounded in that serious stiffness.
| That's my line: but there's others as
| good A man can do canvassing in
| his spare time, and he can do we'll
with it. I've followed that business
nigh onto twenty years, and it's learned
me suthin' of human nature, too. Now,
I should advise you to get an agency