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The Florida agriculturist. [volume] (DeLand, Fla.) 1878-1911, December 25, 1878, Image 2

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THE DARK SlDE.fr'
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Every human life has 4 brighter side,
If wo would try to find it;
And every life has a darker side.
But try and never mind it.
Yet there are people who spend their days
In a needless kind of sadness ;
. Who always magnify the grief
And overlook the gladness.
’Tis good for us all to hnry our grief
And try to wear a smile:
'Tis good to change the minor key
T 9 a major, once in a while;
i 'orsurely there’s grief enough in the world,
We have caused enough to sigh.
Without looking at sorrow through glasses
That always magnify.
The Father above, in his infinite love,
Send us our joy nnd sorrow ;
Although He may give ns a dark to-day,
He gives us a bright to-morrow.
Then let us trust Him for everything,
No matter whatever betide:
Tis our duty to smile whenever we cau,
And look on the brighter side.
Lilme L. Davie.
Tlie Farm Hand.
She was on the front stoop, mend
ing Farmer Thornley’s stockings,
when Baxter, the new farm hand,
came and sat down on the rude seat
by the door, and hung his palm-leaf
hat upon his knee, and took his pipe
from his mouth. “Do you mind the
pipe?” he asked. Polly looked up
in surprise; none of the farm hands
had ever consulted her one the sub
ject before; even Mr. Thornley him
self smoked and smoked without a
dream of asking her permission; that
is, whenever Miss Hannah was not
near to reproach him with turning
their substance into smoke. “ Mind
the pipe?” returned Polly. “No; I
like it better than Mr. Thornley’s.”
“ There’s a difference in tobacco.”
Polly, not being posted in the merits*
of the staple, dropped the subject,
and the frogs filled the intervals with
melodious piping. “ What are you
ihinking about ?” asked Baxter, as
she delayed her needle and meditated.
“ I—l was thinking that Mr. Thorn
icy's hand would make two of yours.
You weren’t cut out for hard labor,
Mr. Baxter.”
“ But the hard labor was cut out
lor me, eh ? ” Its a mighty fine night,
Miss Polly. Wouldn’t you like to
walk down by the brook and find
some violets?”
“Yes, but Miss Hannah may want
me. Miss llannalj has put on lier
tie; 'iTwHfgrß iw ii"*fvr{)li* ’nffiriTitflTP'*
ley’s stealing a smoke in the orchard.
It’s as good as a play to see him tuck
his pipe into his pocket, at the risk of
setting himself on fire, whenever he
hears a footstep.” And then the two
young people strolled off to the brook,
and listened to a whip-poor-will mak
ing pensive music in the edge of the
woods, and watched the evening star
push the filmy clouds aside and step
fourth.
Young Baxter had been on Thorn
ley’s farm a month or so. He hap
pened one day to knock at the door
and ask for a night’s lodging; he had
a small bag slung across his shoulder,
nnd a sunburned countenance, which
quickened Miss Hannah’s pulses.
“ A tramp ! ” said she. “ Good gra
cious, Polly, shut the door quick !
No, no, we don’t take lodgers. We’ll
be murdered in our beds—and the
spoons my grandfather left me ?
Didn’t I tell you to shut the door,
Polly ? No, we don’t take folks in ;
you’ll find ’commmodation further
down the road, at Hooker’s or—”
But just then Mr. Thornley came up,
cautiously knocked the mud off his
boots and said :
“ A tramp Polly ? ”
“ I’ve been wandering and tramp
ing some distance,” said the stranger,
with a frank smile, “ And I’d like to
put up for the right somewhere.
However, if your family’s uncomfort
able at the idea, may be you’d let me
sleep in the haymow ? ”
“ The imprudence ! ” cried Miss
Hannah from within. “ That would
be mighty handy for him to make off
with Liglitfoot and the colt; wouldn’t
it now ? Where’s your wits, Hiram ?
Why don’t you say ‘no ’ up and
down ? ”
“As to that, a fellow must sleep
somewhere,” drawled Thornley ; ‘and
then I s’pose you wouldn’t mind
working it out in the morning’, eh ? ”
—with an eye to the main chance.
“ I’ v e got some plowing I’d like done
right oft'.”
“ 111 drive your plow for a night’s
lodging, and thanks,” returned Bax
ter ; “ or mend yonr fence, or repair
your clocks, I’m. not above earning an
honest penny.”
“ he’e willing to lend a hand,”
capitulated Miss Hannah, I’d) giyso
him an attio chamber and welcome!
He ain’t near so rough looking'as I
thought,” she confided to Polly, later.
‘ He's got an honest face and handy
fingers, it he is forty tramps.”
Baxter showed himselt so willing
on the morrow, Farmer Thornley
suggested he should spend another
day in his employment, and then the
work in hand ran over to the follow
ing day, and as nobody could finish
it so well as Baxter, he naturally
staid on and ou, till, at the end of the
week, Thornley admitted, “ may be
you’re as good a hand as I’d get if I
waited till Christmas, perhaps you’d
like steady work tor the Summer,
with board and wages ? ”
“ You wouldn’t be likely to do bet
ter,” put in Hannah, “ with no recom
mendation you see—though I don’t
say you need one.”
“Thank you, and what do you
say ? ” he asked, turning to Polly.
“I ? why—” faltered Polly.
“■ Polly hasn’t anything to say
about it, 1 ’ objected Hannah. “Me
and Hiram run this concern.”
“ Then she’s the first woman that
hasn’t nothing to say. Speak up;
Polly,” commanded Farmer Thorn
ley.
“ Don’t never leave a sentence to
loose ends. I was going to say that
four makes a cozy family. Two’s a
company, and three’s a crowd, eh,
Polly ? ” said Thornlev, with a laugh.
And Baxter staid.
“ ‘ What makes the' lamb love
Mary so ? ’ ” lie quoted, as they wend
ed homeward, Polly’s little ewe lamb,
frisking before th'em, having joined
them in the pastures.
“Why you know,” explained Polly.
“ Her mother disowned her, and she
was left shivering and hungry out in
the cold, and I brought her before the j
kitchen fire, and fed her with warm j
milk, till she grew and throve.”
*• And Thornbley gave her t o you : '
“No; hut he said, ‘seems as
though she belonged to Polly.' But
Miss Hannah didn’t like i;.
“ Then I s’posc the dishes belong to
Polly, ’cau -e she washes ’em, aud the '
rooms, cause she sweeps ’em, and the i
beds, ’cause she makes ’em ? sae said.
1 Isn’t Polly paid her lawful wages
for doing whatever her hands find to
do, he it to cosset lambs or cook the
roily : asked Baxter. *
“ I have always lived-in this house,
but not as a servant, r. Baxter; this
was the old parsonage: my uncle
lived here, with little or no salary.
He didn’t care for that; he came here
to do good to show people the road
to heaven—there was no church then
for miles around—and he had money
ol his own. My mother and I came
with him, and after she died we two
lived on here together, and lie taught
me all I know—it isiflfc much. But
when I was fifteen, lie came from
the city one day, where he had gone
011 business, and told me that some
wicked people had mined him, that
his good work was ended; and he
threw lus head back, sitting in his
am-c hair, and gasped once or twice
and I was all alone—quite, quite
alone. After that, people came and
looked at the place, and the Thorn
ley’s among them : and I was a little
moping beggar, not knowing which
way to turn, and the Thornley’s of
fered to keep me for maid-of-all-work
for food and clothing. There was
nothing else lor me to do, aud the
neighbors said it was a providence;
but since then I have struck for high
er wages, and now I have day dreams;
when I get money enough I mean to
go away to school, even if I’m as old
as the hills, aud then maybe I can do
something nicer than to churn and
cook for my daily bread.”
“And have you saved
yet ? ”
“ A hundred dollars already.”
Baxter smiled. “ And when do
you expect to set out and seek yofir
fortune ? ”
“Do you think it will take very
long? she asked anxiously. “Shall!
lie too old ? ”
“I should think not,” he returned,
still smiling to himself. This was not
the first walk Baxter and Polly had
taken together, neither was this the
last confidence reposed in each other.
“ You two seem to have an ever
lasting lot of talk together,” com
mented Hannah, “and Polly ain’t no i
talker neither; and what’s queer, you
always cometo a full stop when a
body catches up,to you.” She had <
just overtaken them ou the highway
as it happened, though usually Miss .
THE FIOHHA AGBICULTUBIST.
Hannah’s in ‘uption was not owing
to chance. 1 sooner did she see
them strollii >ff together after work
was over, tl 6he slipped out Abe
sink-room and with undignified haste
took a short it through the woods,
and joined t nas if she were return
ing from a ghbor’s.
“You’d < hter not to take to
tramping rc and the country so much
with Baxte: she advised Polly on
one occasio folks will begin to talk
abont yon.’
“Talk al t me? what can they
say ? ” nskei 'oily.
“They’ll ,y, Baxter’s making a
fool of you and they won’t be far
from right.’
“ Why si aid he wish to make a
fool of me,’ >ersisted Polly, the tears
gathering i ier eyes ; “Why should
he take the rouble ? ”
“ It ain’t 0 trouble —it’s amusing.
You’re an c sy victim I reckon.”
After th Polly made an excuse
/vhen Baxt wished leave to go with
her on an rand, or begged her to
step ontsic on fine twilights, and
listen to tl whip-poor-wills ; she had
always ast it to finish, the bread to
mix, the m k to set, or some homely
duty to deiin her. An older womau
than Pollyjvould have seen that Miss
Hannah haself had set her heart on
Baxter, fotwed him about like his
shadow, cmrted him with sweet
meats, ancfflattcred him within an
inch of hii life.
“ Baxtei 1 that cute about a place
its s pity 1 wasn’t born twins;' she
used to de are. “Though he he a
tramp” Tl inly would add. But it
was love’s abor lost. Her flatteries
fell upon 1 ilioeding ears, as she was
not slow 1 discover. By painful de
grees her een eyes took in the situa
tion, and ier emotions changed, as
the case b came hopeless, from love
fo hatred she seemed to echo the
poet’s ass rtion:
poet s ass rtion:
•• To lo e you was pleasant enough;
lint oh ’tis delicious to hate you.”
Neitlie was Polly’s existence
made mo e agreeable at this time.
TTaunah’t amusement was to thwart
Baxter his love-making; to send
him a wild goose-chase a mile or two
in the tv long direction, to put stum
bling blcioks in the way. But she did
not stop here: she. suggested to
Thornlejj’s slow inind the possibility
.of an elopement, of duty neglected
we "kno {■' Tinyiningir °
Did he have a recommendation?”
she darkly insinuated. •* Didn’t I
caution you against taking him in ?
It yon lose anything through him and
Polly, don’t lav it to m v door, that’s
all?
“ Him and Polly ! ” gasped Thorn
ley. “ Baxter ! ” Hannah had hit
the mark at last. Blessings brighten
as they take their flight, Polly
might have lived at Thornly farm for
a century, and Thornly never have
found out that she was dearer to him
than Hannah, until, someone else
should threaten to claim her. After
that Baxter could do nothing to
please him; he lay in wait and
watched the lovers as a cat watches
a mouse, and worried them as cruelly.
Duo evening Miss Hannah entered
the room where Polly was sitting in
the twilight.
“ Plotting mischief I reckon,” she
said. “Are you fond of darkness
because your deeds are evil ? Strike
a light, girl; I’d a roli of crisp bank
bills in my hand an hour ago—Squire
Emery paid his butter bill this after
noon ; I put ’em in my gown pocket
when Hiram called me to turn the
grindstone—and they’re gone! now
you needn’t tell me they’re gone with
out hands.”
“ There’s been no pickpocket here,
Miss Hannah.”
“ Ain’t there ? When you take
folks in out of the highway, without
no recommendation, how do you
know what their habits is ? To be
sure, I didn’t suspect no one ot hav
ing stole them out of my pocket;
there’s a hole in my pocket; I’d for
got about that, and naturally them
bills must have dropped out between
here and the barn ; but Hiram and
me has hunted the place over and
over again, and it stands to reason
they couldn’t have traveled further
without handed’
“ Mercy! ” cried Polly. “ How
nmch was there ? ”
“ A whole hundred dollars, miss;
and it it ain’t forthcoming, somebody
'll smart for it”
‘ You don't think I took yoiir mon
ey Miss Hannah ?
jj“jyelLmafrjtt not; but it’s gqne
—aadtnere’s Baxter.”
't.A i ty >-n) SJtal
* Baxter £>’ . * * ? fl
‘ Ye*, indeed. "What you or I
know about the fellow ? ”
,l I kuow he wouldn't do it.'’
“ He’ll have to prove it. I’ll have
him up before the court, as sure as
you live.”
Polly could hardly keep her auger
from flaming into audacious Word ;
the bare suspicion was a blow to her;
she believed in Baxter thoroughly;
though an angel had accused him,
yet would she have upheld him.
But how often has the innocent suf
fered 1 bow often has injustice tri
umphed over justice ! to be suspected
merely was an irreparable injury she
thought. Baxter might lose hie good
name, his work; might be sent to
prison; everything might turn against
him, and he had nobody but her for
defense. As it happened, he had
gone down to the village to get the
mail and do some chores, and while
Hannah inveighed, and Polly defend
ed, a small boy knocked at the door
to bring the pleasing news that “ Mr.
Baxter, the fellow as works for old
Thornley, give me a quarter to run
up and let you know he wouldn’t be
home to-night, and maybe not to
morrow neither, as he’d been called
awav sudding like, along of a letter.’
“There!” ejaculated Hannah, “ I
a u ere : ujubuiatcu 3 -
hope you’re convinced. He’s ab
sconded. I’ll have the law after him
sure as his name’s Baxter, which I
dare say it ain’t.”
“ Were your bills new greenbacks,
and did you take the numbers ?’’
asked Polly.
“ Crisp and fresh as new cabbage
leaves ; as for the numbers they were
iives and tens just as it happened ”
“We must have another good
search before you accuse any one.”
“ Only those that hide can find.”
And Polly spared no pains; every
minute that she could secure from
her duties was spent in the search;
but when the second night and day
passed without bringing Baxter, or
any tidings from him, her heart sank
beneath the weight of Miss Hannah’s
words; not that she doubted him for
an instant, but the suspicion might
keep him away, and she might never
see his face again. There was now
but one thing to do, and she did it.
She begged leave of Miss Hannah
to go to town and mail a letter.
“ Bor,” Iliram’U mail for you,” said
inifnt. T pi>oii .mastering: ilk
contents first. But Polly was firm
in the matter; the letter was too
precious to trust to another. It ran:
Mr. Baxter:— If you are staying
away from work and losing wages
because you are suspected of having
found Miss Hannah’s money, which
she lost the day you left, please re
turn at once, as money has been
found, and your good name restored,
though never suspected by your
friend,
Pauline Powers.
But her object in town was not
merely to mail the document; she
went direct from the post office to
the bank where her little hoard was
growing, aud drew out a hundred
dollars in crisp greenbacks fives and
tens, trusting that they made no
larger parcel than Miss Hannah’s;
then she retraced her steps home
ward, and quietly dropped the pre
cious roll ou the floor of Miss Han
nah’s closet, where it might easily
have been overlooked after falling
from the rent in her pocket; she
wisely conjectured that the next day
being Friday, Miss Hannah would
bring it to light with her broom.
“What’s all this about Miss Han
nahs money and my good name?
asked Baxter when he returned
home Saturday and found opportun
ity. to speak to Polly privately.
Polly related the facts, leaving out
her own share in the result. “ And
where was the money found ?”
Miss Hannah found it on sweep
ing-day on the floor of her closet,”
demurely.
“ An<J who put it there, Polly ? J f
Who > W hy, she says it must
have dropped there when she hung
up the gown.” .. .
“ Poor deluded Miss Hannah I
How long since you have learned to
prevaricate so prettily, Polly ? ”
I prevaricate! What do you
mean Mr. Baxter ?”
‘ I mean that you the money
tiora bank store yesterday to
save ‘my good name.’ Polly don’t
deny it. The cashier told me—bf
had some cariosity aboht it. If you
can do so much fipr my good name,
how much would you do for the
owner ? There is a riddle for you,’’
Polly hisg head and blushed.
“ And so you have abandoned the
idea of au education ? ”
“ I don’t know. I’m so sorry you
found it out; you will think that
I—’
“I shall think that yon love me
well enough to be my wife.” Polly,
failed to put iu an objection.
“ Didn’t I tell you how it would
be Hiram ?” said Hannah, at dinner,
the following week. “ Here’s Baxter
and Polly, they stepped down to
town this morning on an errand to
gether, and came driving back like
the great Mogul, whoever he was, on
their wedding tour, to say good-bye.
I blowed the dinner horn for you
like the last trump, thinking that’d
fetch you, if anything, but I reckon
you’re getting deaf.”
“Well I never!” cried Hiram,aghast,
“But it ain't no use crying over
spilt milk.” As Baxter and his bride
drove along, “the flowery by-roads
through,” toward the railway station,
“ I’ve a pretty story to tell you my
little gem,” lie said, “ which I hope
you will be glad to here—a true
story. There was once a young man
who, being rich and strong, and tired
of fashionable life and conventional
ities, undertook a walking tour
through the mountains and valleys of
New Hampshire for a Summer’s va
cation or recreation, camping out at
night in the green woods, buying his
daily bread at farmhouses by the way
or broiling his wild game by a brush
wood fire, as fortune favored him,
wearing his old clothes, and getting
bronzed and weather stained on the
route. One night he asked for lodg
ing at a certain house door as it
threatened rain, and ho had the mind
to try the luxury of a bed indoors.
A young girl opened the door for
him, spread the table, made the bed,
and—stole his heart; and the next
week, when the farmer offered him a
season’s farm work, being short of
hands, he promptly accepted the sit
uation, having a fancy for adventur
ous living and the young girl afore
said.”
“ Mr. Baxter,” said Pa ly, “ what
do you mean ? ”
“ Its a true story, Polly.”
“Do you mean that- you—Oh !
John ! that you are not —that you are
the man, that the farmer is Mr.
"Thornley, and an ignorant girl like
me your wife? Oh ! JohV, ~ho\v
could you be so foolish ? llow could
you deceive me so ?”
“ It was all for love and the world
well lost, ” said Baxter, proudly.
“There’s that hundred dollars,”
said miss Hannah the next year,
when she lay ill. “ I put it direct in
to the bank. Give it to Polly, if—if
anything happens to me, though she
doesn’t need it, goodness knows—a—
trapesing oft to Europe. You needn’t
tell her, but I confess I was a little
con used when I found them green
backs on my closet floor, seeing that
1 hadn’t lost a red cent, myself.
Busy Bek.
The Perjured Witness.
The late David Pan! Brown, of
Philadelphia, was famous among his
brother lawyers for his skill in mani
pulating a witness whose veracity he
suspected. Nothing,apparently,could
be farther removed from “bull-doz
ing’’than his courtly politeness. Yet
the wretched perjurer who fell into
his hands had better have borne the
whips of the Furies than the gentle
inquiries of the courteous old lawyer.
A notable instance of this occurred
in a will case, where the property in
volved was large. Mr. Brown was
engaged on behalf of the rightful
heirs. The will, which he hoped to
prove as a forgery, was executed the
day before the testator’s death, and
by it the whole estate was left to a
tricky attorney.
For some time the case for the
rightful heirs seemed hopeless. A
shrewd Irishman and his -wife, ser
vants of the testator, were the wit
messes.. Grown confident, the man
ventured at last upon a voluntary
evidence.
“ I saw him,” said the man, “ sign,
seal and delivebthe dockymenti”
“ Ah! He was Scarcely strong
enough to seal the will. You sealed
it for him, you moan ? ” blandly sug
gested My. Brown. i * ,
zur 1.. 110 /^hsopped the wax
i and put on the sltfamp wid his own
hands. He was shtrorig in body
Shd moind,” with a hieamng chuckle.
“Blit surely you forget. There
tat oii) . Udt *„ ,

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