Never did a boy gloat over a ripe plum as did Will Richardson over the great bunch of iron in the middle of that churn-drill. He couldn't keep his eyes off of it, and had already decided in his own mind what use he would make of it.
Thanks to the noble spirit of Tom Breslaw, the cattle travelled so fast that he arrived home long before his wife expected him. The children had come half starved—as children always do in the country—from school, and were screaming, "Do, mother, give me something to eat."
"I'll give you a luncheon, because you'll want to eat with your father when he comes, and you'll want to tie up the cattle, and get the night's wood in, and a turn of water, so you can have time to see him."
This being assented to by Young America, the mother, taking half of a loaf of rye-and-Indian bread, began to spread butter on the loaf, and then cut off and distribute huge slices to the hungry expectants. She had cut off the last slice when the sound of Richardson's voice, shouting to the oxen, came through the half-open door.
"Father—father's come!" screamed the children; and, followed by their mother, they ran to the river. Down the slope they rushed, pell-mell, and, just as the cattle put their fore feet on the edge of the bank, and taking advantage of a momentary pause occasioned by the steepness of the grade, piled on to the sled, the two girls holding on to their father's legs, who, standing on the hinder end of the sled, and holding by one hand to a stake, with the other waved his hat to his wife, shouting, "O, Sue, the best of luck! 'Lashings' of iron and steel; and I've brought back the fulled cloth, and the stuff for your and the children's clothes, and money—only think of it, wife, brought money home with me! You can have your tongs, and your andirons, and I can have all the tools I want? and won't we go ahead?"
His wife was too full to speak; but happiness beamed from every feature, as standing half-leg deep in the snow, she drank in the words of her husband, who, taking her in his arms, seated her upon a bag of meal, and, while the cattle went on, narrated the incidents of his journey, the surliness of Drew, and how nobly it was offset by the generous conduct of Breslaw.
"Ain't it glorious, wife? I tell you what it is, Sue, it's better to be born lucky than rich."
To which we might add, that it is better to be born with brains and energy than rich; for the riches may be lost; but the former are an enduring possession, and when under the control of virtuous principles, a source of unfailing happiness and self-respect.
William Richardson was by no means a talkative man. On the contrary he was by nature reserved and thoughtful. But now his tongue ran like a mill-clapper, and ceased not till the cattle stopped of their own accord before the door.
In the meanwhile his wife remained, listening to the excited narration of her husband, in a sort of silent rapture; but when, after the oxen stopped, he began to show her the iron, and expatiate, saying, "Only see this churn-drill, wife; both ends steel; and what a great bunch of iron in the middle—Swedish iron, too; and three picks, and drills, and wedges—all steel; and that crane—see what a great junk of iron that is!—didn't cost me much of anything, either; and that big bar, to make axes; and the thin iron for horse and ox shoes, and nail-rods;"—I say, as he thus ran on, showing and explaining the value of one piece of iron after another, tears of joy ran down the cheeks of the faithful wife, and after that she found her tongue.