THE CUFFING OF ANN MARIA.
“In the town of my birth there lived a hen-pecked farmer of the name of Amos Swope. He was a peaceful and contented soul without any good excuse for it. His wife, Ann Maria, was a scold and a fault finder. She had pecked upon Amos for years. When she got tired her sister came and helped her. My father used to say that they reminded him of Philo Scott's pet crane. Philo used to lead him around with a big cork stuck on the end of his bill.
“'What is that cork on his bill for?' my father asked.
“'So's 't he can't peck,' said Philo.
“'Can he peck?'
“'Tolerable severe, an' when he hits anything he calcallates to put a hole in it, an' he ain't often disapp'inted. One day my dog, Christmas, tackled him and the old crane fetched Christmas a peck on the forward an' I ain't seen that dog since. He's just naturally mean an' he ain't never learnt how to control himself.'
“So it was with Ann Maria and her sister. But Amos used to sit as quiet and unconcerned as an old tree with a pair of wood-peckers knockin' away at it. He never pecked back but once.
“They had gone up to the St. Lawrence to camp out an' fish for a week or so—Amos and his boy, Bill, and Ann Maria and her sister. One day when they were landing a big fish they got into the stiff current above the Long Sault. Something had to be done right away. Amos dropped his tackle and began pulling on the oars. Bill went to work with his paddle. The women began to complain an' move around and rock the boat. They knew they were going to be drowned. They insisted upon it with loud cries. Amos, in the midst of heroic efforts, tried to quiet them. They continued to cry out and when the boat shipped water they dodged. It was a bad situation.
“Amos fetched Ann Maria a cuff and told her to dry up an' sit still. The women obeyed him. When they were out of danger he said:
“'It ain't fair to expect a man to rassle with a strong current an' run an insane asylum all in the same minute. If ye can't help, don't hinder. You two have been rockin' the boat for years an' I guess it's about time ye quit.'
“People used to say that Ann Maria turned over a new leaf and behaved herself proper after that.
“There's some folks that are pecking at the country these days. We're in the current of the Long Sault and Uncle Sam has the oars. We should remember that if we can't help we mustn't hinder. We can help William a lot by just yelling and rocking the boat.
“I wish you would say to the boys in camp on both sides of the ocean that I should like to go and share their work and perils. Last autumn I crossed the French and British lines where hostile shells were bursting—sometimes uncomfortably near me—and went within ninety feet of the German trenches. I have tried the perils which our boys will have to suffer, but, unfortunately, I am too old to fight with them.
“It is a great privilege they enjoy—that of going out to battle for honor and decency and the good of the world. They have entered the great university of common sense. There is no other like it. What a school is that comradeship of the camp and the trenches! For the first time in history the whole civilized world stands shoulder to shoulder.”
“Do you think our boys are likely to profit by their experience?” I asked.
“It all depends on the boy.
“Let me tell you a story just as I heard it from the lips of an American soldier lad. I would call it: