The Bowsers' Troubles.

Hastings Standard, Issue 124, 18 September 1896, Page 4

The Bowsers' Troubles.

A good many little adventures happened while the family were getting settled in the farm house, but on the whole Mr Bowser behaved fairly well. A week had passed when he said to Mrs Bowser one morning : " Well, I'm going to put in a good day's work to-day. I've got to work off some of this surplus fat and harden up. I think I'll tackle the grass first. There ought to be a mowing machine around somewhere." " You mean a scythe," said she. "I)o I? Well, it's all the same thing. I think there's one hanging up in the barn*. Think of it, Mrs Bowser the merry, merry farmer, whistling as he sharpens his scythe in the green meadows! I'll sharpen. I'll whistle. I'll have the scent of the new-made hay blowing all over this country before the clock strikes 10. Wasn't it a glorious idea of mine —renting this farm for the summer ? Just hear that bluebird warbling his lay, will you !" " That's a crow cawdng," said Mrs Bowser, after listening. i; Is it ? Well, its all the same thing. We might have lived in town for fifty years and never heard a crow trill."

" Can't we have strawberries for dinner ? Green said there were enough on the place for a big family." " I have looked the yard all over, and there is just one strawberry vine. If that bears any fruit between now and dinner time, I'll have it on the table. He told you there were oceans of currants, but I can't find any bushes." " Bushes I" exclaimed Mr Bowser. " Do you expect to find currants growing on bushes ? I thought you were brought up on a farm ?" "Where do they grow ?" she asked. " Do you see that bed out there ? Well, when it's time for currants we'll have 'em by the bushel. There you go ! What are you grinning at now ?"

'' That is a bed of burdocks out there !" she laughed. " Burdocks ! Never ! Never, in all this world ! I was jumping over burdocks as a boy before you saw the light of day. You may think they are burdocks, Mrs Bowser, but what you don't know about farming would fill a mighty big book. Don't you worry about currants—l'll see that we have 'em by the barrel. Now then, to sharpen my scythe." There was a scythe hanging up in barn, and Mr Bowser lugged it up to the house and spent half an hour looking for something to sharpen it with. There was nothing better than a brickbat, and he worked away with that and whistled Yankee Doodle until he thought he had worked up an edge. While he was working and whistling a farmer who was driving along the road, stopped to ask: — " Hello ! nay bur. Gittin' ready fur hayin' ? " " That's what I am," replied Mr Bowser. " Know all about mowin', I s'pose." " Guess I do—why ? "

"Oh, nuthin." I kinder thought you did from* the way you sharpened that scythe. Goin' "to hev a fine day of it, by the looks of things." '• What was he saying ? " Mrs Bowser, as she caine out and the farmer had driven along. " He'd never seen a scythe sharpened with a brickbat before, I guess," replied Mr Bowser. " That's what the the ancients used altogether. Old Pliny and Socrates and Diogenes would have laughed to see a man use a whetstone. Does the thing look all right to you? " '* Yes, but I don't believe you ever handled a scythe in all your life." " You don't, eh ?" he growled, as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. " You may believe what you want to, but when I begin throwing grass over the house you'll take a back seat. Never handled a scythe, eh? Perhaps your father was the only man in the United States who ever sent a ton of hay to market. If you don't want that hoy cut in two at the first clip get him out of the way!" Young Bowser was pulled out of the grass and seated on the docr;tep, and as Mr Bowser spat on &s hands and

flourished the scythe around, Mrs Bowser retreated. He made three' or four motions to get the " hang of the thing," and then drew a long breath and made a tremendous swipe at the grass before him. He remembered enough about mowing to recollect that a mower should utter a -" hu !" and give a sort of "squat" as he swung the scythe. The "ha I" was all right and the " squat" fairly up to the mark, but the point of the scythe stuck into the ground instead of encircling the grass, and such was Mr Bowser's grip on the handles that be lost his equilibrium and tumbled over himself and went head first into the tangle. His hat was jammed down over his eyes, his mouth was filled with stuff, and as he got up with Mrs Bower's help, while young Bowser begafi to howl in dismay, he jumped up altd down and shouted : "'Woman ! This is your doings, and by jthe whiskers of my great-grand-father I'll get even with you for it!" Why, what did I do ?" asked Mrs Bowser. "Never you mind—l see through it all! Suppose I'd fallen on the blade and cut my throat. Was that your little plan ?" "I'm sure I—I—!" " You get into the house, and the boy with you ! I know what you did. When I made that stroke you grabbed my leg and threw me down !" Mrs Bowser and her only soji disappeared, and after picking up the scythe and looking it all over and taking a rest for 10 minutes Mr Bowser sought out a new place to begin. He moistened his hands again, looked around at the house and then started in as before. The "hu!" and the "squat " worked up tip-top, but instead of entering the grass the blacle " swiped " along in the air, with the result that Mr Bowser was turned clear around with the momentum and the point of the scythe struck the only shade tree on the place and was broken off short. At thejsame time one of the handles of the scythe hit him in the stomach and left him gasping for breath, and as he sank down he thought rather than gasped : "If I don't get even with Mrs Bowser for this may I never see another sunrise !"