And the man, the owner of a wide stretch of real estate, conscious of a
great awaking of self-respect in his being, stands erect at the door of
his own house, on his own property, and feels that no one better than he
is, shall pass him by all day.
How the consciousness of independence, the feeling of self-respect, will
sustain this man through many hardships, disappointments and trials!
In a short time one or two cows take the place of the dingy cans of the
milkman, and some young grunters in the hog pen represent the
meat-market.
After some years are past we visit the scene again. There is no
loneliness here now, for it is harvest time, and the farmer and his sons
are busy in the fields, his wife and eldest daughters busy in the house
preparing for the keen appetites the men will bring in with them. The
first rude shanty has given place to a nice two-story frame house, well
sheltered from sun and wind by the healthy young trees the farmer
planted with his own hands, and in the rear are the snug barn and
granary.
Where once the wild prairie grass waved, comes the cheery clatter of the
harvester, and swath after swath of the golden grain falls down before
it.
By and by the younger children return from school, rosy and hungry, and
a small skirmisher is thrown out and enters the pantry; he is repulsed
and falls back on the main body; then, taking advantage of the "good
woman," being obliged to run to the oven to keep the bread from burning,
the whole force advance, a pie is spiked and carried off in triumph.
As the shades of evening fall, a herd of cattle march lazily into the
farm yard, and then from the field come the farmer and his sons. Lonely,
indeed! Why the noise of Babel is renewed here. Dipping his hot face in
a basin of cool water, the farmer splutters out his directions; seizing
a jack towel, he scrubs his face, and continues to halloo to Mike, and
Tom, and Patrick. Why, _the boss has come back_. Ay, but