But--I missed him--w'y, of course I did!--The Fall and
Winter through
I never built the kitchen-fire, er split a stick in two,
Er fed the stock, er butchered, er swung up a gambrel-
pin,
But what I thought o' John, and wished that he was home
ag'in.
He'd come, sometimes--on Sund'ys most--and stay the
Sund'y out;
And on Thanksgivin'-Day he 'peared to like to be about:
But a change was workin' on him--he was stiller than
before,
And didn't joke, ner laugh, ner sing and whistle any
more.
And his talk was all so proper; and I noticed, with a sigh,
He was tryin' to raise side-whiskers, and had on a striped
tie,
And a standin'-collar, ironed up as stiff and slick as bone;
And a breast-pin, and a watch and chain and plug-hat of
his own.
But when Spring-weather opened out, and John was to
come home
And he'p me through the season, I was glad to see him
come,
But my happiness, that evening, with the settin' sun went
down,
When he bragged of "a position" that was offered him in
town.
"But," says I, "you'll not accept it?" "W'y, of course I
will," says he.--
"This drudgin' on a farm," he says, "is not the life fer
me;
I've set my stakes up higher," he continued, light and
gay,
"And town's the place fer ME, and I'm a-goin' right
away!"
And go he did!--his mother clingin' to him at the gate,
A-pleadin' and a-cryin'; but it hadn't any weight.
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