The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1911-03-16

mont, a mile or two
out from the village
of NewtOwn, near the
Derby line, was sug-
~ = gestive mainly of hard
!. : :: { : :" J: ] !
- work and small re-
M AA turns, to the ordinary
R 81 w observer. It's build
w III W ings were small and
w AA ~ old and out of repair;
NNN.7TV It's fences were sag
500 ging in places; the
orchard, long past its prime, was dy-
ing out, and the lack Of money to buy
new trees had prevented the filling up
OF the vacant places. But in spite Of
all its drawbacks, the barren, rocky
sittle farm was glorif1ed place to
John Barrows that day in early
spring in the fifties; for that day
Jane Heath had promised to be his
wife. Jane had lived alone in the
little house In the village, left to her
on the death of her father and mother
several years before, and always the
families had been friends. She was
beautiful girl, with the glossy black
hair, the dark and sparkling blue eyes,
the firm apple cheeks and the sun
shiny nature and undaunted courage
Of her Irish ancestors. She had never
been afraid to live alone-neither fear
of possible physical peril nor of the
mental attitude that sometimes is
more to be dreaded even than thieves
or wandering beggars, by people who
have too much of their own society,
ever had disturbed her. She possessed
a strength of character which she
herself did not realize but which, in
promising to marry John Barrows,
meant that she gave him her undying
devotion.
She had known John Barrows long
and intimately-since the days when
they went to the little village school
together In later years, often she
had been a guest at the Barrows farm
house, wherein the family was made
up of John and his mother and his
brother Andrew Mrs. Barrows loved
the sunny-faced girl as daughter,
and Andy-Andy was the one source
of apprehension to the otherwise en-
tirely happy young couple. An ami
cable agreement as to the division of
the farm had been reached, but lately
Andy. had seemed moody and despond-
ent, and often he watched John and
Jane with jealous eyes. A few days
before Johns proposal, Andy had
asked Jane to marry him, but she had
gently refused.
Eyes, 1 know why you won't marry
me. You're in love with John. He's
younger than I, and better favored,
and you've fallen in love with his
handsome face. But you're mine by
rights-as I'm the oldest I should
have the first choice. Oh, do say you
love me, janet"
why, Andy, you know 1 couldn't
say that, when you know I do not
care for yon in that way. I'm so
sorry-"
II don't want your pity. Even if
you don't love me, love you enough
for both-can't you marry me-? l
could fix it so we'd have all the farm,
and you need never want for any
thing"
mo, Andy, I don't love you, and l
never shall, and I'm not going to
marry you. I'm sorry you feel so bad;
can't we be friends?"
yes, we can be friends, but even
if you won't marry me, neither shall
you ever marry John. Mark my
words"
Andy Barrows had an intimate
friend, Malcolm Thomson, a close
mouthed, crafty Scot, and to him Andy
confided his troubles. Thompson con-
sidered the matter, then advised Andy
to be friendly to his brother and thus
lead him to think that he-Andy-was
reconciled, but to bide his time.
Plans for the marriage were dis
cussed, and Thanksgiving day was de-
cided on for the wedding. The sale
of Johns share of the seasons crops
and livestock, with the money-the
bank account dear to the heart OF
every New Englander-which John
had in the bank, would be enough to
build the little house, on the opposite
side Of the field from the old one.
on which the young couple had cen
tered their dreams. John was work
ing his hardest to coax the old farm
to yield, and hauling logs and lumber
in odd hours for the new house and
outbuildings. One day, early in the
fall. the brothers were working in the
field near the house. The days were
growing shorter, and Andy suggested
that he remain in the field, working
as long as there was light, and that
John go to the house to do the chores.
John agreed, and went to his chores
with a happy heart, thinking that
Andy hadn't really been so greatly
disappointed, after all
Mother" he said, as he brought in
the pals of foaming milk, 81 believe
Andy's got all over being jealous of
me. He's so pleasant and agreeable
lately that l can't help thinking he
has forgiven me-"
He had nothing to forgive. my
son. said Mrs. Barrows; but I'm as
glad as you are to see him in a more
reasonable frame of mind / only wish
there were two James. She is a good.
sweet girl, fit to be the wife of any
man.
BLESS you for saying that, mother.