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Streeter, John Williams

"The Fat of the Land The Story of an American Farm"

The young ladies took the higher part, Frank added his
tenor, and even Phil and I leaned heavily on Jarvis's deep bass. My
effort was of short duration; a lump gathered in my throat that caused
me to turn away. Polly was searching fruitlessly for something to dry
the tears that overran her eyes, and I was able to lend her aid, but the
accommodation was of the nature of a "call loan."
As we separated for the night, Jarvis said: "Lady mother, this day has
been a revelation to me. If I live a hundred years, I shall never forget
it." I was slow in bringing it to a close. As I loitered in my room, I
heard the shuffling of slippered feet in the hall, and a timid knock at
Polly's door. It was quickly opened for Jane and Jessie, and I heard
sobbing voices say:--
"Momee, we want to cry on your bed," and, "Oh, Mrs. Williams, why can't
all days be like this!"
Polly's voice was low and indistinct, but I know that it carried strong
and loving counsel; and, as I turned to my pillow, I was still dreaming
the dream of the morning.


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