VOL. XLIX. NO. 21 3o. NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 22, i89o. PR S p f er e yeIr ts - 
That kept things in good order, and the lamplight burning bright, 
To make home what It should be to a traveler at night. 
She’d never been complaining and I’d never heard her scold; 
How bravely she had suffered, for her woman’s heart must hold 
The grief that God had placed there when the little babies died. 
It stung me to remember that I’d never, never tried. 
To bring with gentle kindness something of those little lives ; 
We soon forget their going, but they touch, till death, our wives. 
The farmer’s wife a partner! free to hold an equal right! 
I sat and thought It over, there on Baxter's Hlli that night. 
It’s true I’d saved and labored, but my wife had labored, too; 
’Twas past my understanding to believe what she'd gone through. 
The farmer’s wife a partner! Had she not done her full share 
And held without a murmur all her heavy load of care ? 
A man can shift his troubles, for he’s free to go and come. 
But woman works in patience; all her world Is In her home! 
And so I sat and studied, giving mera'ry fullest play, 
When all at once I started —here it was my wedding day ! 
Well! Well! I had forgotten for the years fly on so fast. 
And I'd nailed up the doorway' that gives entrance to the past. 
Then like a flash I saw It—all the life that I had lost; 
My work could show no protlt when I figured up the cost. 
It seemed that every wrinkle worn on Mary’s faded face, 
Her hands all stiff with labor and each cruel blighting trace 
Of toil and grief and trouble, all were pointing straight my way 
For had I not forgotten all about my wedding day ? 
“On Baxter’s Hill that Night.’’ 
MARY’S MY PARTNER NOW. 
HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 
I just said "stop my paper,” when Thk Rural came that day 
I tell you I was angry at the words you had to say 
In backing up friend Terry, and those oilier folks who claim 
That farmers’ wivesyire partners and entitled to the same 
Polite consideration that we’d give a guest whose gold, 
We hoped some day to handle, when his fun’ral bell had tolled. 
We’d been good friends, old Rural for these many years, I know, 
But when you preach such nonsense, why, of course, you have to go. 
You’re plain and straight, old Rural, but I would, a plaguy sight, 
Prefer to quit than listen to such bosh on woman’s “ right.” 
v V OFFICE 
“I Tore It Up in Haste.” 
Just think of Mary sitting doing nothing day by day, 
A careless, wasteful servant, drawing my hard cash for pay, 
Now Mary does the milking, feeds the pigs aud carries wood. 
She washes, darns and labors, just as every woman should. 
I worked and earned my money, and It well belongs to me. 
Shall I make her a present of a half and write It “we ? ” 
The farmer’s wife a partner! My ! What squandering and waste 
I just took that old paper and I tore It up In haste. 
And yet, with all my talking, I could hardly make it right, 
I didn’t feel quite easy, as I started home that night. 
You know how folks will study, wheu they're shut In by the dark, 
How things we thought forgotten come to light at meni’ry’s spark. 
I’ve been what men call lucky, for I’ve always paid my way, 
With cash enough well salted for many a rainy day. 
But had I done my duty? Somehow that came crowding fast 
Through that dark ride ; I halted, top of Baxter’s Hill at last. 
“Waiting at the Window there for Me.” 
Jack tossed his head In wonder and he stamped to show hts haste 
To reach his sheltered stable and his oats and hay to taste. 
I saw my home-light shining Just as bright us bright could be, 
I 'most saw Mary waiting at the window there for mo 
Her house w as always tidy, aud her dress was always neat. 
And though her face was faded, yet her smile was always sweet. 
Her hair, once black, was frosted, aud her shoulders bowed with years, 
Her brave face lined with wrinkles, like the course of unwept tears. 
It's true it was my money that had bought the lamp and oil, 
That kept that light a burning; yet 'twas Mary’s patient toll 
Had I not watched her tolling at rough tasks a man might shirk ? 
And felt with easy conscience how she saved a servant's work ? 
A mighty shame fell on me as I thought howl had saved. 
And boasted of my savings while my wife had tolled and slaved. 
Her eyes lost all their brightness, aud the bloom hr r cheeks forsook. 
Too late! They now were hidden In my worthless pocket book. 
Twas not a fair division, for here I had reached my prime; 
The whole world out before me, spread to occupy' my time. 
But Mary’s life seemed over; she was weary, old aud gray— 
Two small mounds In the churchyard held the hopes long passed away. 
I felt just like a coward when old Jack had had his hay. 
To come into the kitchen and hear Mary softly say, 
“ Well, John, I’m glad you’ve come, dear, for you must be cold I know. 
Her very glasses sparkled for her dim eyes brightened so. 
We sat there after supper, I within my usual place. 
While Mary washed the dishes, glancing at my downcast face. 
If you'd been there, old Rural. I’d have stumped my pride, I know, 
And handed her the paper aud just said, " My dear—that’s so! ” 
At last I felt her standing Just behind my big arm-chair. 
Her hand lay on my shoulder, bru-hlng light against my hair. 
“ Well, John dear, what’s the matter ?" As she spoke, her voice was low— 
The tone that brings you comfort and makes hitter trouble go. 
No matter how I told her: Ah! You have no right to ask; 
We’ll keep that cherished secret locked up tight In mem’ry’s cask. 
I tell you we were happy ; why my wife Just cried for joy 
While l dropped years by dozens and felt like a happy boy, 
Who’d owned up his wrong doing, aud had felt the ugly load 
Tip off his mind, while Justice dulled the end of meni’ry’s goad. 
Our home seemed just like Heaven aud the wind blew soft and low 
Around the eaves and corners like an.angel's harp. I know. 
And wasn’t It a wonder.for two gray;old folks Itke'us, 
To have our second courting and just go through all the fuss 
And worriment and bother of that thirty years agone? 
You see we’d been a couple, but at last we’re truly one. 
As near as I could figure we had drifted far apart, 
And I was like a new man that had come to win her heart, 
With all my faults laid open and just multiplied by ten; 
Of course the job was harder than the other one had been! 
For women pine and suffer through tho9e years of cold neglect, 
It’s no small job I’ll warrant to win back their lost respect. 
“Well, John Dear, what's the Matter?” 
But all you folks who cannot quite appreciate your wives. 
Will find this second courting—just the best thing In your lives. 
You’ll love each other better for the years that you have lost, 
The longer you delay it, all the more the thing will cost. 
I wrote you “stop my paper,” but I think I’ll have to change 
My order just a little If you don’t regard it strange. 
I want to hit some farmers that are living in our town, 
Old Deacon Smith, Doc. Simpson and old uncle Jerry Brown; 
’Twill make them tetter people just to give their hearts a rub. 
And stir them up a little so I've made me up a club. 
“Mary’s My Partner Now.” 
Then keep your paper comics and see here, don’t ever skip 
A chance of advocating wife and husband’s partnership. 
And best regards to Terry; tell him not to let his pen, 
Get wiary of well dot-g; let him prick it Into men 
That slick In ruts and gutteis till they come out with a jump. 
They'll and their feelings finer when they settle from the bump. 
For 1 have learned this lesson, we may hate the mind that brings 
New truth and pricks It In us - how it rankles, burns and stings. 
But justice takes the sting out, and the whole thing ends in gain. 
Wejove the one that hurt us for the peace that follows pain. 
