At last she turns, conquered.
He has refused to treat to oysters.
Jim
Thanks, young man; I’ll sit awhile,
And rest while Betsy trades a bit.
We’ve druv ’bout twenty mile to-day;
I’m real tired. Just think of it!
“Me a-restin’ on this here bench
’Mongst all these trees and flowers and sich;
A park! You say? It’s a nice place
To drive your team and stop and hitch.
“Farm? Yes, we’ve got a good one;
Two hundred acres as fine as you’ll see,
We’re purty well fixed as to worldly things,
We’ve worked hard for it, Betsy and me.
“But there’s one thing keeps me mighty sad,
We can’t get over it, night or day.
Never an hour we don’t think of Jim—
Ten years now, since he went away.
“Dead?—No; just got mad and left.
Never a word have we heard from him;
Ten years of waitin’, hopin’, and prayin’
Jest fur one more sight of Jim.
“Jest about your height, young man;
Slender and straight as a stalk of corn;
Good as gold, though quick to get angry—
But, then he was mine and Betsy’s first-born.
“I think if I could git hold of Jim’s hand,
And kinder explain the words I said,
He’d know his old dad’s heart would ever
Be just the same—but I guess Jim’s dead.