What A Newspaper Did

The mellow sunset light was fading in the distant western sky,

And it threw a soft reflection round about the porch and door

Of our quaint New England farmhouse where were living John and I,

As innocent and loving as our parents were before.

The twilight was approaching and the drowsy hum of bees

Seemed to slacken down and stop like a machine;

And the hens and peeping chickens stole away beneath the trees,

While a quiet seemed to settle o’er the farm-yard scene.

I was waiting in the doorway for my John to come in sight,

So I idly scanned the columns of the paper from the town;

And I thought how he had told me that we’d stop it for we might

Save the dollar that it cost us, and we’d wisely salt them down.

Soon I heard his heavy footstep and I raised to meet his smile,

When I beheld a well-dressed stranger coming too;

And John seemed real happy and was talking all the while,

And the stranger smiled as sweetly as our Elder used to do.

John introduced him as a banker who was buying real estate,

So I asked them in to supper, and to hurry, ere ‘twas cold;

Then the banker’s funny stories seemed to come two-forty rate,

And we giggled like two children who were fifty-five years old.

Then my woman’s thirst for “knowledge” came a-prancing on the scene,

And I signed for John to follow and explain what it all meant;

And so within the darkened pantry he unfolded a big scheme,

Whereby dollars would be coming ten times faster than they went.

It was all mixed up with mining and a lot of stocks and shares,

For the banker had discovered there was wealth down in our lot;

And if John would buy an interest and help handle the affairs,

He would send for the “machinery and begin to work the spot.

I listened all enraptured till John said that he would take

All our money from the bank, and invest it in the shares;

Then a bit of news flashed o’er me which made me fairly shake,

And I seized the broom and started for that man of “polished airs.

Like a cyclone I went at him, and I put him through the gate,

While my husband stood and trembled like one in some horrid dream;

Then I carried him the paper which described a swindler great,

Who was roping in the farmers with a swindle mining scheme.

Then John slipped up beside me, and in true New England style,

He gave me such a hugging that my cheeks wit crimson spread;

And the “tone of thanks” I’ll warrant could be heard for nigh a mile,

While he vowed he’d pay that paper for a dozen years ahead.

Aug. 4, ‘91

Pub. in Conn.

Valley Ad.