442 
THE RURAL 
MIW-YORKER. JULY I 
THE STORY OF STONY BROOK FARM. 
HENRY STEWART. 
(Contlmiert fmm page 426.) 
CHAPTER IIT. 
“Parley he hanged, Jonas; Jo you think 
I’m going to give mv farm to that boy, as 
hasn't, pot no more than the olothea he stands 
in? And If he pets Patjenoe why he’ll pet the 
farm when I’m pone, heoanse the old man, 
like a oonsarned fool, willed it to her after me. 
And that's just what I don’t like. The old 
man was fool enough to sell the best half on it 
to your uncle and kept all the upland®, just 
because of those elm® round the bouse, and be 
let all that rich terhaker land in the intervale 
po and that mountain too has pot better iron 
ore in it than ever went to Saltzburg furnace 
and old Barney knows it too. And that 
wasn’t enough, but to spite me he left the 
farm to me only as lonp ns T live and then it 
poes to Patience. Now Jonas I want to see 
th Q ol 1 farm all in one again, and that can't 
be unless you marrv Patience. And I’ve sot 
mv mind on it and the pal has pot to do it, or 
I’ll know the reason whv. I wasn’t named 
Defi tnce for nothing. The old man often told 
me that, and I’ll prove it. "You say the word 
Jonas and I’ll bring the pal to it you be sure. 
“Well Harriett, as I said before. I don’t 
keer. I’ll marrv the pal if she'll hev me; she’s 
l:k°lv pal enough and I'd as soon marry her 
s anv woman I know of. But while cousin 
Barley’s round you’ll Had you’ve got your 
hands full, I’m afeard.” 
Never yon mind Bariev, Jonas. I’ll give 
him a walking ticket as he’ll travel on pretty 
fast and as for the pal, I’m her father and 
she’s bound to do as I want her; that’s sartin. 
You see. if Barley bed the farm, instead of 
you, Jonas, ns we all thought he would hev, 
onlv you stepped in his shoes, that would be 
different. Mehbe she'd then ha’ fallen in love 
with vou. Jonas; ha! hal ha! Only think 
of it Jonas; how eontrairy these women are 
surelev. There was hev mother took sick 
and died just in the middle of baying and 
ketchin’ weather too, and we had to leave all 
the hay out for the funer’l; just as if no other 
time would do to po and get siek in.” 
“ I guess she pot cold helping you get your 
hsv in in that thunder shower, didn’t she Bart¬ 
lett? so I've hearn tell. But women is con¬ 
trary, as you say, there’s narv doubt of that.” 
“ Well, well, bring Vm to, Jonas; you come 
up and see the gal anyhow and let her get 
used to your veller hnir, eh! Jonas. I must 
be goiu\ Patience will hev all the keows 
milked, and I’ll hev to help her carry the 
pails home. Come round to-morrow night, 
Jonas ” 
“ What an old rascal that old Defiance Bar- 
lett i®,” muttered Jonas to himself asbesham- 
bled off from the fence, after Bartlett had 
left. "He killed Patience’s mother, so folks 
say; woiked her to death, and made her go 
out having, when the hired man gotsunstruck, 
and the woman got wet through with a thun¬ 
der-shower goin^ home, and died in a ragin’ 
fever in two days. And now be wants me to 
many Patience....Well, I might do worse, 
and the pasture and hayin’ over there is just 
what I want, and maybe the gal might do 
worse, too. I’ll sleep over it. anyhow, and 
see Hbout it to morrow. If wo could get Bar¬ 
ley off there’d be no trouble about it, I guess; 
but he’s death on Barley. Anyhow, I fixed Bai¬ 
ley’s flint wunst for him, and I kin do it 
agen, I guess. I wonder where I could hev 
put uncle’s w ill. I ouphter hev burned it, in¬ 
stead of hillin’ it, and then, like a fool, for- 
gettin’ where I hid it. Anyhow, the will I 
made went through like a hot cake.” 
“Hello, Jon is, what hot cakes are you 
talking about. It’s so dark I wouldn’t have 
known it was you, if I hadn’t heard you talk- 
ng.” 
“Why, Barley, is that you? I thought you 
was coaliu’ down to Goshen.” 
“So I ®as. I thought I’d come round and 
see the folks for a spell, now the pits are 
down, and no coal to be raked for a day or 
two. But, you’re in a hurry, Jonas.” 
“Yes, I be. there's—I’m—well, I've got to 
be borne anyhow, so gcod-bye.” And the 
man hurried away. 
“ Well, if Uncle isn’t cheated after 
all, my name’s not Barley Merritt. And 
o the will’s hid away. And that’s why 
Jonas got the farm instead of me, as 
U.ie!e Merritt alwavs said it should go, 
when he died, because father saved his life and 
lost his own in doing it. Welti well I murder 
will out But I’ve pot to keep this quiet any¬ 
how at present; and in this wav Btrley Mer¬ 
ritt tin ught over the words which he over¬ 
heard from Jonas as he leaned against the 
fence, and as the latter was hastily wending 
is way down the lane towards his home after 
he interview with Defiance Bartlett. 
Barley was a young man of twenty-two, 
an only son of a widowed mother whom he 
was supporting hv his labor. His father was 
killed at a fire wh'ch consumed the house on 
that part of the Stony Brook farm now occu¬ 
pied by Jonas PrHtt. He had entered the 
burning house to awaktn his sleeping brother 
and had dragged him half stupefied to the 
window and helped him out when the roof fell 
in and overwhelmed him in the ruins, but the 
brother escaped. The widow and her young 
son Barley, w-ere s"pported by the grateful 
brother who promised *o leave the farm to 
Barley at his death; being a widower and 
cbildles®. Wiien John Merritt, the brother 
died, every one was astonished to see a will 
produced, apparently in due and legal form, 
devising the farm to Jonas Pratt, another 
nephew who had worked for his uncle, and 
lived with him for some years There was 
much shaking of the head and a good deal of 
surmising and half uttered suspicions of foul 
play somewhere, but the will was duly proved; 
the wi1nss«es acknowledged their signatures 
and Jonas Pratt became the possessor of the 
farm. That he was not the owner, and that 
some day he might not even be the possessor, 
troubled him day and night, and the neighbors 
remarked there was something wrong with 
Jonas; he could never look a man straight in 
the eye and was often overheard muttering to 
himself, “There’s a screw loose, ycu maybe 
sure,” they would rprnark to each other; he’s 
got sutbin awful bad in his mind I swear.” 
You wait, that's all.” 
And Jonas, whan Barley was fairly out of 
sight and hearing, cursed himself for his folly 
in thus talking to himself, forgetting at the 
same time be was still muttering loudly 
enough to be heard by any passer by. “What 
a dratted fool, I he! Hollering out along the 
road, what’s enough to send one to the States 
prison for life. And a bigger fool yet to go 
and half do the job and leave it so that a y 
baby might find it. out any day Drat that 
will! v here could I ha’ put it? I’d better burn 
(he house up; but mebbe it isn’t there. If I 
burn the hnu«e the barn must go too, but then 
I don’t know if its there even. And the 
neighbors will talk worse than they do now 
_well what’s the odds: the things did and 
can’t be undid, and there’s no u*e crying over 
spilt milk. I’ll marrv Patience enyhow—if I 
kin, and Barley won’t bo hard on me if he 
does find it out. I wonder ef he heerd what I 
was a savin.. ..I guess not; he didn’t show it. 
Drat my fool’s head! I must be more keerful ” 
By this time Jonss had reached home and 
went, straightway to do up his chores; foddered 
the cattle, fed the horses and the pigs; hut 
afterwards remained out of doors sitting on 
the barn yard fence, his knees drawn up, his 
elbows upon them and his chin huried in his 
hands, seemingly in a deep reverie; while the 
full moon, golden red from the haze, roseaud 
lightened up the other side of the valley, 
shining brightly upon the home of Patience 
Bartlett; whence a tiny star like g’eam from 
the cottage came across the shaded intervale. 
And still Jonas moved not, more than to 
ejaculate his habitual exclamation “drat it,” 
with an emphasis which showed how much 
his rrfDc’ions worried bis mind. Ami the 
moon still rose until the shadow of the hill 
behind him gradually crept across the brook 
and the intervale, and bye and bye the bright 
light burst like a flood all about him and 
lighted no the barn-yard where the well-fed 
cows laid and puffed and Wowed- And his 
old habit broke out upon him again, as he 
blurted out, “this ain’t my home and these 
cows don’t belong to me, nor nothiu else; and 
I’m a-oh, drat it! what’s the use. Let’s go 
in and make the best of it.” And he slid off 
from the fence and hurried towards the house 
as if to leave his unwelcome thoughts behind 
him, entered and closed the door with a bang 
and disappeared from sight. At the same 
moment Barley Merrit and Patience Bartlett 
parted at the garden gate, across the volley 
and bade each other good night. “ God bless 
her.” ejaculated Barley, as he turned home¬ 
wards, when Patience had disapjieared, “she’s 
a good girl, and a treasure, and she’s rightly 
named for if auy one was ever a patieut 
creature, she is one.” 
CHAPTER IY. 
The next morning found Patience Bartlett 
astir before the sun was fairly up, tripping 
gaily and singing as she went, towards the 
barn with a milk pail on each arm, while a 
hired boy carried some long deep pails. On 
the neighboring farms the men did the milking; 
but Patience could not brook the men’s style 
of doing this work, and the hired man was 
relieved of a large part of this unwilcome 
duty, much to his satisfaction. For Patience 
had been trained to habits of scrupulous neat¬ 
ness by her mother whose housekeeping was 
noted far and wide for its painstaking and 
laborious cleanliness. “That woman’s a 
killin’of herself; dying by inches;” said the 
gossiDs; “only look at her thin pale face and 
her bent shoulders. And what’s more she 
never gets no thanks for it; but its always 
growlin and complainin that she don’t do 
enough and is always sick and ailin.” “Well 
some men don’t deserve a good wife, that’s a 
fact,” said another. And so Mrs. Bartlett’s 
troubles were discussed dav by day, until it 
came to p*FS that in the hurry of haying one 
very hot July day a hired man was sunstruck 
and her husband called the patient woman 
from her cooking, to help put back the hay 
into the mow; the most wearisome job of the 
whole wearisome work of haying. “Now, 
look sharp,” said he, “there's a thundershower 
a comin up, and another load out ye f .” But 
the thunder came and shook and rattled the 
big barn before the next load could be brought 
in.and th“ woman '-reefed with the ungraceful 
remark, “ef veil’d ha’ been lively, we might 
Imbed that load in vet.” fled to the kitchpn 
through the drenching shower to c -mpletetbe 
preparations for enp’-er and became soaked 
through with the rain. With no time to 
change her clothes the poor woman went 
shivering about the hot kitchen, with the 
seeils of a fatal fever coursing through her 
veins, and in two davs Iiv shrouded in her 
collin. And her husband complained of 
troeb'e hrought upon him by th'fl unexpected 
pioceeding, and how his haying was sadly 
interfered with by the woman dying w-heu 
she had no burine's to do it.” Then Patience 
was installed as housekeeper, a small child of 
fourteen vear®; inheriting her mothers in¬ 
dustry and good nature; but when aroused 
showing that she had a share of h**r fa'hers 
defiint and wilful disposition although it was 
softener! and toned down by her better nature. 
For six years she had borne the labors and 
responsibilities of housekeeping and with these 
had assumed all the care* of thedairy, milking 
the cows in part, and supervising the rest and 
looking after the milk and the churning and 
packing of the butter. Her deftness Btid 
skillfulness in thedairy brougbta considerable 
profit into her fathers pocket, and he grentlv 
tesented any attempt of any of the neighbor¬ 
ing young men to liecome more closely 
acquainted with his daughter than could be 
accomplished from the ou’side of the house or 
from the pew in the buck corner of the meeting 
house where sittings were free. But “love 
laughs at locksmiths.” and Bariev Merrit 
during a seasons work on "Btonv Brook high 
farm” a® it was known, had entangled h'sown 
and Patience’s hearts in love’s maze. The 
suspicion of such a trespass was sufficient to 
cause the discharge of Barley from his em 
pi yment and to forbid his entry on th« farm 
in the future. But. I lie 1 ivers were, as is usual 
in such cases, hopeful, and ignored the possi¬ 
bilities of any serious disappointment of their 
hop o K at some indefinite fu'ure time. And so 
Paiience milked her cows and msdeher butter 
and kept her fathers house, and never lost her 
cbeetfulness until on this eventful day her 
fathers ill starred plans wpre made known to 
her. She had. a* baa been Telatfd. Hipped to 
the barn in gleeful enjoynn nt of the bright 
crisp morning, had returned with her filled 
milk pails, had disposed of the milk and was 
busy with her breakfast dishes, when her 
father entered the kitchen, cast his hat upon 
the floor, drew a chair up to the stove, and 
sat down. Such a proceeding was to unu'tial, 
that. Patience startled by it. turned, resting 
her h mds uonn hersides, and gazed in wonder, 
with parted lips upon her father. Something 
was going wrong she felt sure, on the instant. 
[To be continued.] 
■ -- 
BOOKS RECEIVED. 
First Book jv Fkk.vcii, by .Times H. Workman, A 
M. A S Barrie* * On., Fub.lshers, N. Y. City 
Price by mall, 60 cents. 
This is one of the Chautauqua language 
series which perhaps is recommendation 
enough, but it has other points of value. It is 
full of pictorial illustrations; it enables the 
learner to speak from the first lesson under¬ 
standing^. There are also conversations on 
farnilar topics, with strictly graded lessons. 
One cannot help 1 -arning to speak the French 
language by studying this work. 
How- is Yocr Max ? or the sharks of Sharkvll’e. T ee 
anti Shepard. Boston: Clms. T. Dillingham, New 
York, Publishers, Pi Ico 80 cents. 
This little work is intended to set forth some 
of the evils of what is known as Grave yard 
Insurances. It rightly brands as a eu'se this 
infamous trade. 
The Musical, Harp. A monthly magazine 
of choice music ard musical literature, $1.00 
a year, Harp Publishiug Co., Berea, O. 
Musical Herald for June. Published by 
Musical Herald Co., Boston, Mass. I rice 15 
cents. 
-- * » 
MAGAZINES. 
Harpers Maoaztne for July is a very 
strong number. ’J he frontispiece is a portrait 
of Emerson. Apart from its value as the best 
portrait of Emerson, it is the mo«t remarkable 
instance ever given of the possibilities of 
wood-engraving. Two eminent English 
writers contribute illustrated articles. Miss 
Amelia B Edwards contributes a curiously 
interesting article on the recently discovered 
Theban Mummies. Mr Lath row’s third in¬ 
stalment of “ Spanish \ istas,” beautifully 
illustrate.! by Reinhart, relates mainly to 
Cordova. G. W. Sheldon writes - entertain¬ 
ingly about the Old Ship builders of New 
York, in the days of Christian Bergb, Henry 
Eebford, Jacob A. Weatervelt, and William 
H. Webb. With many otner well written 
articles and poems. 
St. Nicholas comes to us again with its 
bright covers, and brighter contents. We 
always give it a cheerful greeting, and honor 
it for the good work it does among the young. 
No harm can possibly com* from having this 
visit every house through the land, but on 
the contrary, much of pleasure and enjoy¬ 
ment from reading its pages. There i« a story 
by Frank R. Stockton, and another by Noah 
Brooks, with good articles all the way through. 
The Century for July is as usual well 
filled with well-written article®. Italso has a 
frontispiece of Emerson, a® has its contempo¬ 
rary, Harpers’ Magazine; an article on sail¬ 
ing vessels, yachts, etc., giving the fastest 
time made, and contrasting it with the sail¬ 
ing capacity of vessels some #0 years ago; 
a story by Joaquin Miller, and one by Mrs. 
Schuyler. 
We also have received the Popular Science 
Monthly and Lippincott’s Mng°zine, eac h re¬ 
plete with good readiug, and just the books 
to take in the country and after finding a de¬ 
lightfully cool, shady spot to pass the day or 
days iu reading, thoroughly enjoy the same. 
for Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS KAY CLARK. 
THE DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE. 
“ Tears from the depth of some divine despair 
Rise In the heart and gather to the eyes, 
In looking on the tappv Autumn fields. 
And thinking of the days that are no more. 
Dear as remembered kl-ses after death. 
And hweet as those by Impeless fancy feigned. 
On lips that are for others; deep ns love 
Deep as first love, and w lid with all regret; 
O death In life, the day s that are no more ” 
Tennyson—" The Princess.” 
[From III. Art Notes, Cassell, Fetter it Galpin, Pub.] 
MRS. LEE’S JOURNAL. 
BY MARGUERITE. 
I have been reading one of Marion Har- 
land’s books, and I threw it down; I will not 
say with disgust, for l do thiuk a great deal 
of the author, and the reading may do me 
good. All medicine is not sugar coated; but 
I felt a sickening nausea in my spirits long 
after I dropped the book. Tlie dear patient 
wives she portravs, who sollVr on and endure 
like Spartans, while the thoughtless husband 
to save a penny, or indulge a whim is blind 
to the fact, is one of her pen p’cturea. 
Not one word does the wife utter to open 
his eyes to love or duty, an l finally death 
comes,the only relief to lmr. Onescene. A weak 
dispirited, worn out mother attending a sickly 
babe. Besides the care of chil 1 and house¬ 
hold, Is the draft on her system to nourish it. 
Finally she sighed one day and said, ‘I did 
n t know a baby would tie so much trouble 1 
John locked over the top of his paper, horri¬ 
fied at Rose and asked her “if she would 
rather have baby die?” 
Of course the very th ught was a stab to 
the great mother heart and she devoted her¬ 
self all the more to the child am! staid a’ heme 
closely to mini.-ter tc it. John thought her tastes 
so domestic that the did not wish to go out 
and ceased to invite her to do so, and before 
the Rands of life are ono half run, thedeucate 
fia Me breaks, and life is o’er. 
Aunt Belinda came in and picking up the 
book began reading it. 
Oh don’tl” I exclaimed. “I cannot get 
my thoughts off of it. 
“ 1 have read it before,” she answered. 
What do you think of it! I asked. 
“Too true, 1 believe, but l do not think a 
wife need bear all and suffer silently” she 
said. 
Just as I think too. Now if I had been 
