Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 162.djvu/153

Rh "Come, wheaten bread, and tell me true,
 * Who was it cut the corn?"

"Filip it was and Magda who
 * Together cut the corn.
 * He there began
 * The lass to court, —
 * The corn it was
 * Cut all too short."

"Come, wheaten bread, and tell me who
 * The corn threshed in the barn?"

"Filip it was, and Magda too,
 * Who threshed it in the barn.
 * And while they threshed
 * He stole a kiss, —
 * The work, alas!
 * Was done amiss."

"Come, wheaten bread, and tell me who
 * The corn took to the mill?"

"Filip it was and Magda too,
 * Who took it to the mill.
 * With tender care
 * He shared her load, —
 * Much grain was spilt
 * Upon the road."

"Come, wheaten loaf, and tell me true,
 * Who was it baked the bread?"

"Filip it was and Magda who
 * Together baked the bread.
 * He pressed her then
 * To be his wife,
 * And swore to love her
 * All his life."

"Come, wheaten loaf, and tell me true
 * Who will now eat this bread?"

"Filip will eat, and Magda too,
 * Herewith this loaf of bread.
 * And if they have
 * Forgot the salt.
 * They cannot complain, —
 * 'Twas their own fault!"

That this song was not particularly appropriate to the wedding in question was evident to any one who knew Filip Buska, whose mind was so extremely well balanced that even if he had been in love it was hardly likely that the tender passion should find expression in crooked furrows or spilt grain. But etiquette demanded that it should be sung all the same.

CHAPTER V. THE GOD OF SLEEP.

Something more than three years had passed since Magda became the wife of Filip Buska, and he had had no occasion to regret his choice. She kept his house tidy, and cooked his food to his liking; the children were fond of her, and the cow she had brought with her as dowry came in usefully in the housekeeping. They were able to make a little fresh butter for the market every week, and the calves fetched a good price.

As no child of her own had been sent to take the first place in her heart, Magda would fain have transferred the whole strength of her affections to her husband's little ones; but though they had from the first clung lovingly to this young and pretty new mamma, who was always ready to play with them and sing them songs, and who never scolded them, even when they upset a bowl of milk or tore their clothes, they were now growing big and independent, and did not care to be fondled and petted as of yore.

Was Magda happy in her married life? No one had ever thought of asking her that question, nor had she asked it of herself. Of course she must be happy. How could it be otherwise? Was she not mistress of the prettiest cottage in the village? and the best-kept garden? And had she not the best man in the village for her husband as well? There were men in the village who spent all their earnings in the brandy-shop; and there