XIX.
THE HARVEST LUNCH.
Bearing witness of prospering hopes and growing joys, nearly a twelvemonth passed away, and Fabens commenced his wheat harvest. The last fall seeding was more extensive than that of any former year; the snows came on early, and in kindly coverings, protected the tender blades through the winter. Spring rains fell in timely showers to wash it from mould, and revive it from the withering of frost and wind. The summer appeared early, as one of Nature's most genial and gentle, and he looked around on harvests large and white.
He went forth to his fields, with many men, and great preparations. The songs of the reapers were never more cheerful. The melting hours of July were never more manfully met. The home of our farmer had seldom less shadow with its light. Laborers found rarely a more liberal employer than he. He was generous in the wages he gave; he allowed more resting hours than any of his neighbors; he was less exacting in his demands; he always reserved the finest lambs and chickens to supply his table in that season; he had the best of spruce beer in Summerfield, and the clearest crystal water. And while with these mitigations, the toils of the harvesters were still hot and heavy to be borne, there was that in their fare, in their songs, and animation, which told of as much happiness, as may crown the tasks of labor.
To all his sympathies for the laborers, to all his efforts to cheer them, and temper their fatigues, and give them relief and refreshment, Mrs. Fabens and Fanny responded with expressions, more meaning than words. From the midst of the forenoon labors, they invited their help to refreshments under some green shade tree in the field; and in the long afternoon, three hours before supper, a refreshing lunch was again set before them, which would have answered well for supper; and it brought vigor once more to weary arms, and vigor to weary hearts; and called forth thanks from minds that abounded in gratitude, as in labor. Long and affectionately were they remembered by their men, as the bringers of joy and ministers of comfort, where joy and comfort were often craved in vain.
On one sweet afternoon, toward the last of the month, and the last of the harvest, a cool bland breeze swept over from the north, and rendered the time delightful. The sun still shone, and it was large and yellow as in October, but the breath of the north stole the sting of fire from its beams, and rallied a thrill of life and joy through the drooping hearts of beasts and men.
It was a pleasant hour to be enjoyed out of door, and it was welcomed as a blessing, by those who had kept in the shade; and Mrs. Fabens and her daughter hurried their preparations to be early in the field, with the evening meal.
"The men want to finish if they can, this week," said Mrs. Fabens, "and they have worked hard, very hard, since morning, and we must give them a good luncheon this time."
"We will take extra pains," responded Fanny, "and see how cheerful we can make them. It is so cool and pleasant out now, they will enjoy it, and we shall enjoy it better than usual, as Cousin William will be with us; and let it be something more than bread and butter. I feel so sorry for them, while they work so hard in the scorching sun to make us happy! Too much care cannot be done to refresh them, and warm up their hearts."
"Then, William has returned from Auburn, has he? Well, he shall see that country people can be happy and free-hearted, if they have not the city refinements. And we shall again find that the greatest good and joy on earth, we take in the good we do to others. They shall have something that will do them good."