oetry. In
vain did I try to express in rhyme what I felt. The lines halted for the
last word. I never ventured to read them to my Oread or fellow students.
Thus I cherished two secrets and discovered that the private indulgence
of verse-making is almost as sweet as a hidden love. The terms of the
Academy and the Oread Institute ended on the same day, and I parted from
my sweetheart never to meet again.

FARM HAND

What to do with myself during the long summer vacation was the next
question. My money was fast wasting in spite of my economies. There were
no country schools open to male teachers in summer. My sister advised me
to find employment on a farm. I thought at once of Bellingham, and my
dear Uncle Lyman. He did not want help and eventually I hired myself to
another uncle who lived in the extreme southern part of the town, close
upon the boundary of Rhode Island. My wages were to be twelve dollars
per month with board. My uncle's wife was my father's only surviving
sister. Their children were married and settled elsewhere. All that was
left to them was a large farm and old age. The one made them rather
poorer than richer; the other brought upon them a growing habit of
penuriousness, gloom and irritability. I was expected to do all the
heavy work and most of the chores, except the milking; that, they would
allow no one to do, for fear of not squeezing out the last drop. My aunt
still made butter and cheese to sell, and in this work I usually helped
her the first thing in the morning before the regular day's work. We had
breakfast at sunrise, often before. After breakfast my uncle went into
the sitting-room where:

"He waled a portion with judicious care,
'And let us worship God,' he says, with solemn air."

I suppose that is what he did, for I could hear the low mumble of his
voice and occasionally catch a scriptural phrase, but neither my aunt
nor myself participated in this mockery of family prayers. She said she
had too much to do, and she could not spare me from the cheese tub and
the churn. She scolded her husband for his contributions to the church,
and begrudged every cent that was spent. She had Franklin's prudential
maxims at her tongue's end, besides many another gathered in the course
of her long life of thrift and hard work. She never rested from her
labors until the Sabbath. Our food was of the coarsest kind, but well
cooked, and work and hunger were sauce enough. She baked once a we