Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1916-08-02
Coeya,otsr a. o0OelERAS. aA6G q &C


some three hundred yards As 1 fol-
lowed the brook into the naples and
then into the sudden hushed quiet of
my little stand Of pines. thought how
all this was mine-my own. to play
with. to develop as sculptor molds
his clay, to walk in. to read in, to
dream In. Think OF owning even q
half-acTe Of pine woods, stilest and
coolest Of spots! A single great pine,
with wide-spreading, storm-tossed
branches, Hike a cedar Of Lebanon,
stood at the stone wall, Just inside my
land.
somebody ought 10 get amusement
out OF thisr' I said aloud, as set of
for the barn, gathered up my suitcase.
and climbed the road toward Bert
Temples.
II live to be hundred, can never
repay Bert Temple, artist in cauHfow-
ers and best Of friends in my hour Of
need. Bert and his wife took me in,
treated me as q human, If helpless,
fellow being, not as "city man. to be
feeced, and gave me the best advice
and the best supper man ever had,
meantime assuring me that my COWS
had been tested, and both were sound.
The supper came first. I hadn't
eaten such supper since grandmother
died. There were brown bread Joes-
only rival of Rhode Island Johnnycake
for the title Of the lost ambrosia of
Olympus. They were so hot that the
butter melted over them instantly, and
crisp outside, with delicious, runny in
sides.
Mrs Temple" said I, II haven't
eaten brown bread Joes since was a
boy. I didn't know the secret existed
any more"
Mrs. Temple beamed over her ample
and calico-eovered bosom. "You
must hev come from Essex or Middle
sex countless" she said, IF you've ct
brown bread Joes before"
After supper Bert took me in hand.
"First thing fer you to dos to git
farmer and carpenter he said. ST
kin git yer both, if yer want l should,
an not sting yer. Most moo folks thet
come here gifts stung. Seems like Bent
ford thinks thet's why they conner
I'm clay in your hands," said I.
"Wall, yer don't exactly know me
Intimately" said Bert with a laugh,
$50 yerd better git a bit O. granite
into yer system. Neows ez to a farmer
there's Mike Finn. He lives bout
quarter Of a mile from your corner
He'll come an his son'n help out with
the heavy work. Wen walk deown
| 4
l liked, and in the soft, spring eve
ming we set off down the road.
oval, then, ez to carpenters Bert
went on, "thar's good carpenters, an
bad carpenters, an Hard Cider How
ard. Hard elders forgotten more
about carpentrin' then most o. the rest
ever knoo, and he amt forgot much,
neither But he amt handsome, and
he looks upon the apple juice when it's
yaller. Maybe yer don't mind looks,
an I kin keep Hard Cider sober while
he's on your job. He'll treat yer fair,
an see thet the plumbers do
We walked on, turned the corner at
my brook, and followed the other road
along past my pines till we came to a
small settlement of white cottages. At
one of these Bert knocked. We were
admitted by pretty, blue-eyed Irish
girl, who had copy Of Caesars "Com-
mentaries" in her hand, into a tiny par
lor. where an ''airtight' stove stood
below a colored chrome Of the Virgin
and Child. and a middle-aged Irish
man sat in his shirtsleeves, smoking a
pipe.
''Hello, Nike said Bert, 'this is Mr..
John Upton, who's bought Milt Mobiles
place, an wants a farmer and gar
dener. / told him you wuz the man.
"Sit down, sqr, sit down." said Mike
hospitable gesture. "Sure, let's talk IL
over"
The pretty daughter had gone back
to her Caesar by the nickel oil lamp
but she had one ear toward us, and
caught a corner Of her eye, too-ar
extremely attractive, not to say provo
cative eye.
'Wen, now" Mike was saying, "sure
I can run a farm, but what do I be
gettin' fer it?'
Fifty a MONTH" said I, (which in
cludes milking the cows and tending
furnace in winter"
'Sure, I got more than that on me
last place and no cows at all"
"Ye're liar Nike said Bert.
THAT'S a fghtin' word in the ouli
country" said Mike.
| "This amt the old country, and vel
got forty-five dollars" Bert grinned
q Besides, yell be close to yer work
You wuz a mile an a half frum the
sideways. Thet makes up fer thu
milkin'."
: ''True, true" Mike replied, medita
lively. "But what be yer runnin' til;
), place for, Mr.. Upton? Is it a rea
u farmer ye'd be?"
81 ra2T farmer - answered. "Tvhv %