Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1904-05-11
A Busl1el of
Potatoes
BY Harriet
Whitney Durbin
COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY 7. G. Mcclure

| anu 4 voice.
Silas Weatherbee's possessions en-
/ braeed fair farm. a good wife and a
daughter just eighteen years of age.
Rocksena weatherbee looked like a
peach grown on the sunny side of the
tree. Her father had dim idea-when
he thought anything about the girl
that she had barely discarded bihs. 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
white petunias shimmered and hawk
moths made quivering blots over them
out of the elder thicket doomed Agabus
Bigio with his banjo.
Hi. there. Agr 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 it oughtta be wuth
shuckin' out a trifie fer. Whut'll 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
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.
er squawshes. er taters-gimme taters
now; you got 'em an | amt. How
many taters II you give fer batch of
good old songs?''
Silas smoked and considered for Ave
silent minutes.
I'm give you later a song" he then
announced-"not peelin' more. Them
Island Pearls o. mines with money.
My. | paid IS 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 git but later 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 Silas smoked. with closed eyes:
his wife rocked placidly in the shadow
of the porch. and Rocksena, sitting
upon the step. clasped her tanned
hands and inhaled the music.
Garry Me Back to Ole yirginny"
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 in
his daughter Rocksena for good meas
ure.
"Agabus Biglo," directed Silas, you
shoulder yer rotten old banner an cut
sticks"
But, Uncle Silas. She
"Cut sticks" repeated Silas sternly,
IAN never pint yer toes down this hol-
Ter ag'in, err I'll th'ow you in the crick"
When the hunters moon piled silver
sheaves under the trees Silas Weather
bee and his wife sat alone on their hop
grown porch. Agabus. the banjo and
the potatoes were gone-and Rocksena.
Silas smoked grimly. He missed the
'OId 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. foaming,
over its banks. Its high tide mark it
fouted and, like hungry beast. pill
aged cornfield, truck garden and POI
tato patch. The sluggish blooded old
farmers set to work. with matter of
fact patience, replanting. Silas Wealth
erbee ragged like Goose creek. Every
darned Pearl later in the county lick
ed up by that pottered crickr' he roar
ed. 81 gotta plant any old kind OF
taters this time"
And once again Goose creek arose
with destructive appetite. A June flood
came and the replanted fields were as
bare as a desert.
A drought followed in the latter part
of summer. and autumn found scanty
ingathering of crops. One late au-
tumn day silas Weatherbee drove over
to see his brother Simeon at Crab Hol-
low. Simeon was cutting sorghum
cane. Gotta live mostly on sorghum
'lasses this winter. One thing-they're
good an film" he philosophical.
Got any tatersY asked Silas.
"Not IN nor. GaoSa craat, aaf fa,,,