Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 41, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 November 1908 — JOE MILLER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

JOE MILLER

By J. A. LLOYD

Joe Miller, on a summer morn, Near the roadside hoed his corn. His rimless hat exposed a cheek He hadn’t shaved for near a week. Whistling, he’d hoe and never stop, As he thought of weeds and growing crop. , He glanced at the hillside near the wood. Where, old and brown, his cabin stood. The whistling ceased; a vague unrest Sprang up beneath his ragged vest. Ann Smith came riding by that way, Driving the deacon’s "one-hoss shay.** Her fingers decked with many rings, Her head with bangs and other things. She stopped her horse on seeing Joe, And, in a loud voice, Cried: "Hello!" 'Tm dry’s a fish. Can you spare a mug Of water from your little jug 7” Joe took his jug from ’neath a board And filled for her an old brown gourd. He blushed as he gave it, and stole ■ % glance At his tattered shirt and his ragged pants, ’ While through a hole in worn-out shoe His toes Stuaß nut an inch or two. "Thanks!" And her voice had a tender touch; ' “I didn’t think I could drink so much.**

She spoke of the grass, of a coming storm, The potato bug and the army-worm. .Then Joe forgot his ragged clothes, His rimless hat and projecting toes, And sat on the fence, while a bashful grin Bat on his features long and thin; While she explained *twaa leap-year then, And women might make love to men. How a husband she would like to find, One who’d be good and true and kind; One who would work and well provide For a woman's wants and a woman's pride. "You know I am not old," said she; "I'm pretty, too, as you can see. "You need a wife to bake your bread. To cook, to mend —now will you wed?” Through Joe's anatomy a thrill Of pleasure passed: "Perhaps I will. I-hardly know what's best to do; I need a wife and money, too. Your offer I will bear In mind, And if no better one I find, When you call again, if anxious still To have me wed, perhaps I will." The deacon’s daughter rode away In an angry mood in the one-hose shay, And, looking back with heart forlorn. She saw Joe Miller hoeing corn. "The ugly thing, with his crownless hat And dirty clothes, all torn at that; Were no other man on this earthly ball I wouldn’t have him now at all." Joo got a wife as time went by. And built a house two stories high. For his wife was rich, but cross and old. And, alas for Joe! a horrid scold. No children came to deaden strifo Or bring a sunshine to their life. Oft by his firelight poor Joe Would watch a picture come- and go. Again Ann Smith on leap-year day Drove by in the deacon's one-hoss shay.

Once more he hears a sweet voice say: "Will you wed me, Joe, some happy dayF* He closed his eyes and gave a groan To think the chance away he’d thrown. "If I had not said, on that fatal day, 'Perhaps I will* when she rode away. It fill* my heart with sorrow still. That I did not say: ‘Of course I will/ “ And poor Joe sighed with secret pain While wishing he were free again. Ann married a blacksmith, people say. To show her spite at Joe’s delay. Bh* chose the plan of Roosevelt. For a dozen kids In her cabin dwelt. And oft a* she rode in the one-hose shay Bhe thought of that fatal leap-year day. She saw Joe Miller sitting still. And heard the words: "Perhaps I wiU.** Alas for the maid! Alas for Joe! That cruel Fate should servo them so. Oh, pity them both, and pity them all Whom marriage bonds do thus enthrall. For of all sad words of tongue or quill. The saddest are these: "Perhaps I will.” Ah, well, with them all a fond hope stays Deeply buried from human gaze. A divorce at last may bring them weal. With it a chance for a “squarer deal."