1 !•()(). J ESSAYS. 55 



He fell asleep in his straight-backed chair, 



And dreamed a remarkable dream. 

 He seemed to be in the old wood lot, 



By the side of the babbling stream. 

 Oaks, and maples, and willows, and pines 



Grew where they had not grown, 

 And talked so strangely, that Farmer John 



Stood like a pillar of stone. 

 They spoke of all things tender and good ; 



Of the Maker's infinite power; 

 Of forest aisles, and shady pools, 



And the fragrance of budding flower; 

 Of pleasant homes, and of childish feet 



That light through the green wood strayed ; 

 Of weary souls who had paused to rest 



In the gloom of their grateful shade. 

 And at last they spoke of Farmer John. 



" He is killing his wife," they said, 

 " With his barren facts. Her nature cries 



For more than clothing and bread. 

 She starves her soul for his selfish creed; 



His boy is sullen and cold; 

 His daughter's life is darkened, and cramped 



To fit in her father's mold. 

 There's not one fair or beautiful thing 



About the dreary old home. 

 Some day both daughter and son will leave — 



In happier scenes to roam. 

 He loved his wife when he brought her there, 



A graceful, blue-eyed thing: 

 And he was a likely youth. They looked 



At life through the wedding ring. 

 But the greed of gold has made him hard ; 



And the end of it all will be, 

 His wife, she will slumber soon and will 



'Neath the spreading churchyard tree." 

 Then Farmer John woke out of his dream, 



With a thrill of remorseful pain ; 

 And the faded face of his weary wife 



Seemed fair and youthful again. 

 A sense of shame, and a tender thought 



Of the past stirred in his heart, 

 And throbbed there, rending the sordid crust 



Of the long, long years apart. 

 He bent to kiss her on brow and cheek ; 



She flushed like the dawn of day 

 In her glad surprise. " Dear wife," he said, 



" We will celebrate Arbor Day ! " 



— Mks. Bella D. Cjlakk. 



