The Baltimore County Union

L*d

-A

One morning, fifty years ago--

When apple trees were white with snow

Of fragrant blossoms, and the air

Was spell-bound with the perfume rare--

Upon a farm horse, large and lean,

And lazy with its double load.

A sun-brown youth and maid were set

Riding along the winding road.

Blue were the archway of the skies,

But bluer were that maiden's eyes !

The dew drops on the grass were bright,

But brighter was the lover's light

That sparkled 'neath each long-fringed lid

Where these bright eyes of blue were hid :

Across the shoulders, brown and bare

Rolled the soft waves of golden hair,

Which almost struggled with the spray,

Of haw, a willing prisoner, hay,.

It was the fairest sight, I ween,

That the young man had ever seen:

And with his features all aglow,

The happy fellow told her so,

And she, without the least surprise,

Looked on him with those heavenly
eyes

That wandered 'neath that shade of tan

The handsome features of a man,

And with a joy but rarely known,

She drew that dear face to her own,

And by that bridal basket hid--

I guess that's how the thing was did.

By this they ride, until high noon

The moon-balm leaves with dew drops hung:

The parsonage, arrayed in white,

Peers out--a more than welcome sight.

Then, with a blush upon his face,

"What shall we do?" he turned to say,

"Should he refuse to take his pay

From what is in the pillow-case?"

And summoning down, his eyes surveyed

The pillow case, before him laid,

Where edibles, reaching to its brim,

Might purchase edler's joy: for them

The maiden answers: "Let us wait :

To borrow trouble--where's the need ?"

Then at the parson's peeping gate

Halted the more than "willing" steed.

Down from his horse the bridegroom sprung:

The kitchen maid behind him runs:

The knocker of that startled door,

Struck as it never was before,

Brought the whole household, pale with fright,

And there, with blushes, on his cheek,

So bashful he could hardly speak,

The Farmer met their wondering sight.

The groom then in, his errand tells,

And as the parson pulls, he hands

Far o'er the window sill, and yells,

"Come in. He says he'll take the beans !"

Oh, how she jumped: With one glad bound

She and the bean bag reached the ground.

Then, clasping with each dimpled arm

The precious product of the farm,

She bears it through the open door,

And down upon the parlor floor

Dumps the best beans vines ever bore.

Ah: happy were their songs that day,

When man and wife they rode away.

But happier this chorus still

Which echoed through those woodland scenes:

"God bless the priest of Watsonville!

God bless the man who took the beans!"