Year: 1873




pot.


Still the thrifty farmer confined
himself closely to labor, hardly TAX
ing time for needful rest. The love
of getting had increased with his
gains, and he was constantly schem-
ing and planning to add to his al
ready many acres. Physically and
mentally strong, he grappled with
toll, and it had hardly left a mark
on his splendid physique--bronzed
little-and with gentle, loving
wife ever studying his tastes and
wishes why should he wear out
fast


But of her? Naturally frail, she
had been like willow bending be-
meath burden voluntarily taken
up. With the exception of an eff
ficient girl for a few weeks when
little Mary died, she had performed
all the labor required in the house
since she became its mistress.


AS girl, she was a great reader
and extravagantly fond of music.
But there was no room in the small
dwelling for piano, and books on
ly added to her labor by accumulat-
ing dust, for where was the time |?


know this is drcary picture
for a farmers wife, but perhaps
there is another side.


Newton Strceter took the men,
orandum, glanced hastily at the
neatly written items, and then said:


zone thing more, Mary, and then
I'm off. Please sew this button on
little closer"


The loose button was confined to
its place, and then Mary Streeter,
watched her husband as he stepped
into the light buggy and drove
away.


But no longer might she linger,
for the sponge was waiting in the
kitchen to be kncaded, and the
baby's maps were like angels visits.
And before the task was well over
his bugle note sounded to arms, and
the fretful child was taken up, and
caressed and soothed again, and
back and forth from the hot kitch-
Ell she carried him, as she watched
the loavcs browning in the oven.


She was conscious of q strange
dizziness, when she arose from a
STOPPING position her head was ach-
ing miserably, and her eyes seemed
burning. What was coming over
her? Oh nC--she had no time
for that! And then her thoughts
drifted away to the dear old home
of childhood. And she asked her
self for the first time if she had
done wisely in leaving it for this
life of toll and care.


1t was dangerous question for
q wife, mother, and she clasped her
child more closely to suppress in
her heart the disloyal answer.


She heard James, the hired man
come in, and rccollecting the mes
sage for him, arose, and that unac-
countable giddiness seized her and
she sank back utterly powerless.


When Mr.. Streeter returned, OK
ultant over the thousand dollars he
had deposited in the bank-and
with which hc hoped to puschase
another parcel of land-he found no
supper prepared and his wife help
less on the bed with cheeks flushed
with fever, and the wailing child
distracting her with demands for
care.


A physician and nurse were soon
summoned from the city, and the
weary wife enjoyed the luxury of
being i'll.


But convalescence soon followed,
and before leaving his patient, the
old doctor, an observer and deep
thinker, took the husband aside
and asked:


"Do you know what brought this
fever on your wife, Mr.. Streeter"


"No," in surprised tone.


"Shall l tell you y


"Certainly. / am so anxious to
know"


"You have worked her nearly to
DEATH"


"You arc speaking of my wife,
not my horse"


"Granted; and say again you
are working her to DEATH


"Really, doctor, such language is
unpardonable."


"And yet you viii pardon it. And
furthermore, by your great love for
the selfsacrillcing woman we have
lust left. I shall perform an opera