The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-06-18
LEAF FIRST.
The BaehsIor's Buttons.

"TES, truly think that in all the
 world there is nothing so
 %=T]YzF dead as a young widows de- t ceased. husband, and God ought to give his wisest man-angel special charge concerning looking after her and the devil at the same time. They both need it I don't know how all this Is going to end, and I wish my mind wasn't in a kind of jingle. How ever, I'll do the best can and not hold myself at all+responsible for my self, and then who will there be to blame7$
 There are a great many kinds of good feeling h this world, from radiant joy down to perfect bliss, but thIs spring I have got an attack of just old fashioned happiness that looks as if 1t might become chronic.
 am so happy that I planted my garden all crooked, my eyes upon the clouds, with the birds sailing against them, anf-when became conscious I found wicked, haunting poppies sprout ed right up against the sweet modest clover pfnlxs, while the whole paper of bachelors buttons was sowed over everything. which I immediately be- gan to dig right up again, blushing fur1ously to myself over the trowel
 
 fore they grew up to laugh in my face. However, got that laugh anyway, and I might just as we'll have left them, for Billy ran to the gate and called pr. John to come in and make Molly stop digging up his buttons. Billy claims everything in this garden, and he thought they would grow up into the kind of buttons you pop out of gun
 "So you're digging up the bachelor pops, Mrs. MolIy?" the doctor asked as he leaned over the gate I went right on digging without looking up at him. couldn't look up because was blush ing st1n worse. Sometimes I hate that man, and if he wasn't BiIly's father I wouldn't neighbor with him as I do. But somebody has to look after Billy.
 I believe it will be a real relief to write down how I feel about him in his old book, and shall do it when ever can't stand him any longer, and if he gave the h0rrid, red leather thing to me to make me miserable he can't do it, not this springl I wish I dared burn it up and forget about it, but don't This record on the first page is enough to reduce me-to tears, and I wonder why 1t doesn't.
 weigh 16o pounds. down in black 1 believe that main at the grocery store is SO very reliable in his weights, though he had very pleasant smile when he vas weighing me Still had better get some scales of my own; smiles are so deceptive.
 I am five feet three inches tall or short, whichever way one looks at me. I thought I was taller, but I suppose I will have to believe my own yard stick
 But as to my waist measure, I posi- lively refuse to write that down, even | if I have promised Dr. John a dozen times over to do it. while only really | left him to suppose I would. It is bad | enough to know that your belt has to f be reduced to twenty-three inches with | out putting down how much 1t meas | ures now in figures to insult yourself i with. No, intend to have this for my | happy spring.
 Yes, suppose it would have been lots better for my happiness if had kept quiet about it all. but at the time l I thought had to advise with him | over the matter. Now I'm sorry I did l That is one thing about being a widow | you are accustomed to advising with | man. whetter you want to or not. 1 md you can't get over the habit right I away. Poor MT. Carter hasn't been dead much over q year, and I must be missing him most awfully, though just lately I can't remember not to forget Hbout him a great deal of the time. Now if he had been here-horrors!
 Still. that letter was enough to upset anybody, and no wonder I ran right ncross my garden through Billys hedge hole and over into Dr. Johns office to tell him about it, but ought | not to have been agitated enough to let him take the letter right out of my hand and read it.
 go after ten years Al Bennett is