Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1904-05-20
A BuShel of
Potatoes
By Harriet
$50 Whitney Durbin
Copyright, 1908, bp T. C. Mcclure

braced fair farm, a good wife and |
daughter just eighteen years of age.
Rocksena Weatherbee looked like a |
peach grown on the sunny side of the
tree. Her father had a dim idea-when
he thought anything about the girl
that she had barely discarded bibs. He
was a thrifty man, leaning to the side
of stinginess. OF the minor diversions
of life, Silas loved a good song well
sung. Agabus Biglo had supplied the
song on many an occasion.
Silas was sitting one evening upon
the upper rail of his dooryard fence
All about the yard patch focks of
white petunias shimmered and hawk
moths made quiverlng blots over them.
Out of the elder thicket doomed Agabus
Biglo with his banjo.
eli, there, Ag!' shouted Silas.
"Come long an give us a chune."
Instead of complying, Agabus fell
into argument
"See ERE. Sile," he said in mild dis
sent, I'm pore, pore as black eyed
peas, and low eff good square chune
is with listenin' to 1t oughtta be with
shuckin' out trifle fer. Whutll you
gimme, Sile? I'll sing reasonable"
"Wull, I'll swear, Ag! You reckon
I'm goin' to pay out money to set yere
an listen at yer little old pie pan ban
jer an yer old Kentucky Home?
Tree frogs an crickets don't charge
nothin. Reckon they'll do me-"
Hold on, Sile; don't fly up creek. l
wasn't figgerin' on plunks," reasoned
Agabus persuasively. Gimme beans,
err squawshes, err taters-gimme taters
now; you got 'em an 1 amt. How
many taters II you give fer a batch of
good old songs?"
Silas smoked and considered for five
silent minutes.
"I'll give you later a song" he then
announced-"not peelin' more Them
Island Pearls O mines with money.
My, l paid 50 fer a dishpan full O
seed ones in the spring, an the old wo-
man like to eat every pottered one;
she lowed they was better than ice
cream. They're new invented. You
don't cit but a later a song"
Agabus scrambled upon the fence,
twirled his banjo into position, and
that old song that seems always to
drip soft southern fragrance and to
ripple out the melody of tranquil wa
tiers flowed into the damp, soft gloam-
ing:
"Way down upon the Suwanee river,
Far, far away
Old SiIas smoked, with closed eyes;
| Il, in, 1,n hn1
of the porch, and Rocksena, sitting
upon the step, clasped her tanned
hands and inhaled the music.
Garry Me Back to Ole Virginny''
thrilled and ebbed, and blithe "Nellie
Bly," followed, bringing her broom
along. Then Silas slid stiffly from the
fence and shook his pipe ash into a
tuft of wet clover "Sena," he called
to his daughter, git Ag three taters
I'm goin' to bed"
Rocksena brought the three largest
potatoes she could find, and Agabus
slowed them into his pockets.
When Agabus had sung away a
bushel OF potatoes from Silas Weather
bee he asked the old man to throw il
his daughter RocksenA for good meas
ure
"Agabus Biglo," directed Silas, "yor
shoulder yer rotten old banner an cut
sticks"
"But, Uncle Silas, she"-
"Cut sticks repeated Silas sternly
can never pint yer toes down this hol
Ter ag'in, er I'll th'ow you in the crick.
~, nila oil
sheaves under the trees Sias Weather
bee and his wife sat alone on their hol
grown porch. Agabus, the banjo anC
the potatoes were gone-and Rocksena
: Silas smoked grimly. He missed thu
} "Old Kentucky Home and the "Su
vance River" His wife knit spirit
lessly. She missed the girl.
In the spring came the great freshet
when Goose creek arose with slow
vicious hissings and plunged, foaminl
over its banks. Its high tide mark
flouted and, like a hungry beast, pi
aged cornfield, truck garden and pc
tato patch. The sluggish blooded oil
farmers set to work, with matter O
fact patience, replanting. Silas Weau
erbee ragged like Goose creek. Ever
darned Pearl tater In the county llcl
ed up by that pottered crick.' he roal
ed. 81 gotta plant any old kind c
taters this time"
And once again Goose creek aros
with destructive appetite. A June foo
came and the replanted fields were a
bare as desert.
A drought followed in the latter PAL
of summer, and autumn found scant
ingathering Of crops. One late al
tumn day Silas Weatherbee drove owe
to see his brother Simeon at Crab Ho
low. Simeon was cutting SORGHUM
cane. Gotta live mostly on SORGHUM
'lasses this winter. One thing-they'l
good an fillin'," he philosophical.
"Got any tatersT asked Silas.
"Not a later; Goose creek eat 'e
all. Amt you?"
"Naw. My ole woman's plum PM
AX.Ng