A' jaj;;. ri.J^v: T>5 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM The Libriry of Tr.^.Wiegand Gift of the Department of Botany Cornell University Library PS 3174.W45W5 The Widow Bedott papers, 3 1924 022 210 631 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022210631 fflihto ^ei&0tt ^apr5. " Parson Potter and liis wifp was wonclprfiilly pleaped witli U. nisRd to eina: il to tlip tiiTip o' Haddnm, pa^e 27 THE WIDO¥ BEDOTT PAPERS. FRANCIS. M. WHICHER. ^ WITH AN INTRODUCTION ALICE B. NEAL. NEW YORK: J. C. DERBY, 1J9 NASSAU STREET. BOSTOIf : PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. CINCINlirATI : H. W. DERBY. 1856. f^^ ding to Act of Congress, in t Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the.year 1855, "bj J. C. DEEBT, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern Bistricf of Now York. STEREOTYPED BY PRINTED BY THOMAS B. ■ SMITH, PUDNET AND RUSSELL, 82 & 84 Beetman Street. 79 John Street. ONTENTS, — — ♦-»-* I. PAOE Hezeeiah Bedott 21 n. The "WmoTV Essays Poetet 21 m. Widow Jenkins' Aotmositt 32 17. Me. Ceaj!ie Walks in 39 V. The Widow Disooiteses of Pumpkins. 47 VI. The Widow Loses hee Beau .*.... 59 vn. Me.'Ceane about to Peopose ■ to vm. Mb. Crane Walks out t9 VI C ONTBNTS. IX. . PAGE The 'Widow " Sets heb Cap" ' 86 X. The "Widow Eesoltbs to leave Wiggletown 95 XI. The "Widow Tbades with a Peddler lOT xn. The "Widow and Aunt Maootee Discoubse on Tahious Topics 119 XIIL The Widow hating heaed that Eldee Sniffles is Siok, "Writes to him 134 • XIV. The "Widow eesobts to Eldee Sniffles foe Religious In- steuction 141 XV. The "Widow concludes to Publish 162 XVI. The "Widow Peepaees to Receive Elder Sniffles on Thanksgiving-Dat 161 XVII. The Widow Retiees to a Geote in the Rear of Elder Sniffles' House 175 CONTENTS. Vll xvm. PAOB The WrDOTV 'Whites to hbb Dauuhtee, Mrs. Jupitbe Smith. . 184 XIX. The Bet. Mbs. Sniffles Abroad 191 XX. The Eet. Mhs. Sniffles at Home 204 XXI. The Ret. Mrs. Sniffles Bzpebsses her Sentiments in Eb- 6ard to the parsonage 222 xxn. Aunt Masttire's Experience 232 xxin. Aunt Maouiee's Desoription of the Donation Partt 245 XXIV. Aunt Masuire Treats of the Contemplated Sewino Sooiett AT Scrabble Hill 273 XXV. Aunt Maguire Continues her Account op the Sewing SOCIETT 293 XXVI. Aunt Maguire's Visit to Slabtown 313 VIU - CONTENTS. XXVII. PASB YlSIT TO SlaBTOWN" CONTINDED 330 xxvm. Mrs. MAaniEE's Aoootint or Deacon "Whipplb 345 XXIX. Mbs. Mublaw's Beoipb roR Potato HnBDiNa 359 XXX. MOENINS Cails; oe, Eveet body's Pabtioulab Feiend 383 INTRODUCTOEY. The Bedott Papers — ^now for the first time collected, were first widely introduced to public notice through the columns of " Neal's Saturday Gazette." Its editor — Joseph C. Neal, the well known author of the " Charcoal Sketches," was struck by the originality and clear- ness of the first of the series, when submitted among the mass of contributions, which crowd a weekly newspaper. It was scarcely in print before the author's name began to be asked by subscribers, casual readers, and brother editors, some of whom attributed them to Mr. Neal himself. They CDuld scarcely be made to belieYe that sketches so full of humor, so remarkable for minute observation of human na- - tvpce, were the work of an unpraoticed pen. A correspondence arising in this way between the editor and his unknown contributor, Mr. Neal learned that " the Widow Bedott," as she was familiarly called, had not even entered the " holy estate," but was still the center of a hap- py home circle, in Whitesboro', New York. That she had never before written for publication, and was so sensitively modest, and indeed unaware of her remarkable talent as a humorist, that' she was quite willing to cease then and there 1* X INTRODUCTOET. the history of the Widow's adventures. Mr. Neal's reply- to this despondent mood, was perhaps decisive as regards the continuation of the series, and we quote it as preserved among her' papers. It has the more value as being the unsolicited opinion of a practiced critic who possessed the keenest natural sense of humor. " Philadelphia, September, 10th, 1846. "Mr Deae Cobkbspondent Bedott: " Your last contributions have been received, and are truly welcome. The " Gazette" is again deeply your debtor ; for your aid has been indeed truly valuable to " Neal." But I regret to find that Duberly Doubtington has cast a " glamour" over you about continuing in the comic vein, just at the moment too, when all the world is full of Bedott. Our readers talk of nothing else, and almost despise " Neal" if the Widow be not there. Ah excellent critic in these matters, said to me the other day, that he regarded them as the best Yankee papers yet written, and such is indeed the general sentiment. I know for instance, of a lady who for several days after reading one of them, was continually, and often, at moments the most inopportune, bursting forth into fits of violent laughter, and believe me that you,' gifted with such powers, ought not to speak disparagingly of the gift which thus brings wholesome satire home to every reader. It is a theory of mine that those gifted with truly humorous genius, like yourself, are more useful as moral- ists, philosophers, and teachers, than whole legions of the gravest preachers. They speak more effectually to the general ear and heart, even though they who hear are not aware of the fact that they are imbibing wisdom. " To be sure if you have more imperative duties, I should be the last to wish that you should neglect them ; but if INTRODUCTOET. XI your hesitations arise from other scruples, it appears to me that if you were to weigh them well they may be found mere intangibilities. But of all this you, of course, must be the judge, and any interference on my part would be in- trusive and impertinent. "But I would add that Mr. Godey called on me to inquire as to the authorship of the " Bedott Papers" wishing evi- dently to obtain you for a correspondent to the " Lady's Book." I declined giving him the name, etc., until I had consulted you, checking the selfish impulse that would have denied him, that " Neal" might monopolize a correspond- ent so valued as " Frank." Would you like to hear from him on the subject? " Think on it then before yielding up the pen of comedy, but in any event, whether you conclude to be either serious or comic, " Believe me ever yours, "Joseph C. Nbal." The result of Mr. Godey's negotiations will be found in " Aunt Maguire's Experience" — ^Aunt Maguire, being cer- tainly worthy of her distinguished relationship.* The New Year found Miriam Berry a bride, and separated from the cherished and cherishing home circle, with new duties and responsibilities as the wife of a clergyman. Yet to quote from a charming memorial from the pen of an almost equally gifted sister, " Her sketches even under these circumstances, require neither vindication nor'apology. They were never condemned by any except those who felfc * We may here add that, as in the ease of Mr. Neal, the friendly interest of the courteous editor of 'the " Lady's Book" deepened from that time, and it is with his warmest approval and predictions of success that the volume containing both series, is now issued. XU IKTEODtrOTOBT. the sting of her satire pricking against their vices. The good sense of the entire reading public gave them praise, and their popularity was abundantly, shown in the eagerness with which the country press copied them from the Phila- delphia papers. Her humor was chaste and original, so true to nature that the most ignorant reader could not Ml to feel its force, and the most refined could discover nothing that would shock the keenest sensibility. From the time of Horace to the present, it has always been thought proper, and often profitable, to ' speak the truth laughing.' And the best moralists have acknowleged that laughter, when aimed at folly, was a salutary means of improvement, and a great aid to virtue. Indeed we have the precedent of In- spiration itself, to use the most pointed satire in our at- tempts to promote the welfare of our fellows. And this was her only aim ; for, whether she depicted the verbosity of the self-sufiicient preacher, or portrayed the vulgar co- queteries of the inconsolable widow — whether she held up to view the would-be literary circle, or narrated the gossip of the sewing-society, her only object was " 'the gift togi'e 'em To see therasels as others see 'em ! Which wad frae monie a blunder free 'em, An' foolish notion.' " Such, then, was the origin of the " Bedott Papers," their characteristics and their aim. By the early death of their wonderfully gifted author, they have become a literary heritage to her family, and the publication has been decided upon by them, after repeated solicitations fronT both . IKTEODUCTOEY. XUl strangers and friends, who were anxious to have in a col- lected and accessible form articles they had enjoyed so much as fugitive sketches. For ourselves, we have never had but one opinion. We remember, as if had been but yesterday, the mirth-moved family circle that listened to the reading of the first of the series with almost convulsive laughter ; and from that time until we corrected the proof-sheets of the last, considered them among the cleverest, as they cer- tainly were the most popular of any humorous articles by an American author. Though among Mrs. W 's* warmest personal: friends, we never had the often desired pleasure of meeting her face to face. Yet it is through a correspondence bequeathed to us, as the successor to Mr. Neal's editorial engagements, and some of his most genial friendships, that the sister before alluded to, "gathered much of the material for a sketch of her life and charapter. ' Never was there a more remarkable contrast presented, and we quote her own words, for the causes operating to produce it. " Your last kind letter was very gratifying. The acquisi- tion of a new friend is a source of great pleasure to me ; for I assure you that it has never been my lot to have many friends. And I will tell you what I believe to be the secret of it : I received at my birth, the undesirable gift of a re- markably strong sense of the ridiculous. I can scarcely remember the time when the neighbors were not afraid that * Miss Berry -was subsequently married to Eev. B. W. WMolier, of ■WMtesboro', N. Y. xiv INTEODUCTOET. I would ' make fun of them.' For indulging in this propen- sity, I was scolded at home, and wept over and prayed with, by certain Well-meaning old maids in the neighborhood ; but all to no purpose. The only reward of their labors was frequently their likenesses drawn in charcoal and pinned to the corners of their shawls, with, perhaps, a descriptive verse below. Of course I had not -many friends, even among my own playmates. And yet, at the bottom of all this deviltry, there was a warm, affectionate heart — ^if any were really kind to me, how; I loved them ! "I think now, that I was not properly trained. My errors should have been checked in a different way from that which was adopted. I ought to have received more tender treatment. I became a lonely child, almost without companionship ; wandering alone, for hours, in the woods and fields, creating for myself an ideal world, and in that ideal world I lived for many years. At times I was melan- choly almost to despair. My reserve and sadness were called haughtiness and pride. When the best^part of my life, or rather what should have been the best part of it, was gone, I met my husband. He was the first who pene- trated the icy vail about me, syEjpathized with me, and turned my feet into a better path than they had trodden before." A modest, humble-hearted Christian woman " at the bot- tom of all this," as she says, she remained until her pen was laid aside for the last time, and she passed to a home whe^^ all doubt and misunderstanding are denied an en- trance. ' INTRODUOTOET. XV " How she looked, spoke and moved," those who read these sketches will doubtless ask, as did we, at an early- period of the correspondence. It was met by her with a playful rhymed response, of which we can recall but a frag- ment, declaring she had " Hands and feet Of reapeotatle size, Mad-colored hair, And dutious eyes." To the last, she evaded any thing like the self-portraiture so common among a certain class of female writers, who are as willing to give their faces as their sketches to the public. Since this would still seem to be the feeling of those most easily interested, we pass to the peculiar artistic cleverness of the original illustrations, -tvhioh usually accompanied her " Table Talks." They were done as rapidly as Tier pencil could move, a few strokes " telling the whole story." Of the rise and progress of this remarkable talent, we have some charact^istic anecdotes in Miss Berry's sketch of her sister's childhood. " Her school education was more varied than beneficial. Her first teacher was a sour-faced woman, who knocked the alphabet with her thimble into the heads of a little group of unruly children, at so much 'a quarter,' with small love, and no just appreciation of the dawning minds under her care. It was the unwise and cruel practice, then more gen- erally than at present, though still not quite exploded, of sending little creatures, only four or five years old, to be ^ut up in a schooj-rooip six hours of each day. XVi IKTEODUCTOKT. " But there was one good custom then, which, where our limited ohseryation extends, seems to he quite unthought of, if not despised, in the present girls' schools— that of teach- ing the pupils to sew. The object now appears to be to in- struct them most in what they shall least need to know afterward. Well, little Miriam was told by her teacher to bring some kind of work to busy herself with in school ; so, being furnished with a long narrow strip of old muslin, she went prepared to take her first lesson in the art of " scolloping." How steadily the small hands stitched away, till the child was summoned by her serious-faced teacher to the table, to have her work inspected. What was Miss 's amazement on discovering that Miriam had adhered- but a very little way to her pattern, when, leaving it entire- ly, she had worked a long row of heads on the muslin, after a stitch of her own choosing. " ' What a pity,' said the careful woman who spoke with a strong nasal accent, ' to waste all that 'ere nice muslin ! Jest take it home, and fetch some old stuff to-morrow ; and work it good, too. Don't make any more of them heads.' " But Miriam had a piece of bran-new muslin given to her at home, when she repeated her teacher's orders, with the permission to make as many heads on it as she pleased. Whether this act of high-handed rebellion was continued, we inow not ; for, in telling the story, as we have heard her do, with many amusing accessories, she proceeded no further. This little incident, it would seem, was the most deeply im- pressed upon her memory of any thing connected with her first school-teacher. INTEODtrOTOET. XVll " A second time was little Miriam introduced -within the walls of the academy, but under a new and quite different dynasty. The principal was the kindest hearted and most indulgent of pedagogues, well skilled in mathematics and learned in all classic lore ; greatly successful, moreover, in ' fitting young men for college,' as the phrase goes. But the younger fry were left to take care of themselves, or at most received a kind of desultory instruction from some older pupil, while their misbehavior was kindly overlooked by the classical master. Lightly passed her «ehool-days now, but her education, in the true sense of the word was advancing. Within the school-house walls, the child's al- ready observant mind and keen perception of the ludicrous found occupation and food in watching the countenances and conduct of those who surrounded her ; while her lonely rambles abroad taught her much that your thorough-faced pedagogue utterly ignores. " Her slate did not always present the sums in addition duly set, which it ought. The stiff, tallowed looks and long- nosed visages of the serious matter-of-fact young men, in- tently poring over their Virgils and Latin grammars, on the opposite side of the room, were oftener transferred by her pencil to its surface. She could no more keep from drawing a striking or peculiar set of features, than she could stop her heart's beating ; but she had no thought of giving pain, and was unwilling to have her pictures seen. Some- times a inischievous companion, possessing herself of one, would display it. If the unfortunate subject had the happy faculty of taking a joke, he passed it off with a laugh. But xviii INTKODUOTOET. a matter-of-fact, shy, sensitive youth regarded Miriam after- ward with insuperable dread. We -well remember one, who, finding himself graphically set forth with the quite imaginary addition of a parasol over his head, and bows, with floating ends on his coat skirts, left school in dismay, and did not again attend. "Her copy-book presented an appearance very unlike those of her school-mates. She followed no formally set copy, but wrote little poems which had struck her fancy in reading, interspersed with an occasional verse of her own, the margins being adorned with heads and various devices, something after the ancient fashion, modemly revived, of embellishing books. " In the art of drawing she never had a master, the only instruction she received being a few hints from a relative gifted with a like talent. The itinerant professors of paint- ing and kindred accomplishments who stopped at times, in her native village, were incapable of improving such an en- dowment as hers. Their chefs-d'muvres on velvet, their red and green birds, and extraordinary ' flower-pieces' done by theorems, their impossible Scripture scenes, gave her infinite amusement. She should have studied with a true artist, but no such opportunity presented itself — a subject of deep regret to her in after years, as therein she believed the proper development of her powers could have been found." Such was the erratic training and chance development of rare — ^indeed almost unprecedented — original talent ; for what humorist has ever so clearly illustrated his own sketches of life and character. The very expression of the INTEODUOTOEY, XtX Widow's nose and the Elder's spectacles, are a promise to the mirtJi-loving reader of good things at hand ; and we leave them with the assurance that the promise will more than be fulfilled. A. B. N. WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. TTE was a wonderful hand to moralize, husband was, 'specially after he begun 'to enjoy poor health. He made, an observation once when he was in one of his poor turns, that I never shall forget the longest day I live. He says to me one winter evenin' as we was a settin' by the fire, I was a knittia' (I was always a wonderful great knitter) and he was a smokin' (he was a master hand to smoke, though the doctor used to tell him he 'd be better off to let tobacker alone ; when he was well, used to take his pipe and smoke a spell after he 'd got the chores done up, and when he wa'n't well, used to smoke the big- gest part o' the time). Well, he took his pipe out of his mouth and turned toward me, and Iknowed some- thing was oomin', for he had a pertikkeler way of lookin' round when he was gwine to say any thing oncommon. Well, he says to me, says he, " Silly," 22 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. (my name was PrissUly naterally, but he ginerally called me "Silly," cause 'twas handier, you know.) Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly," and he looked pretty sollem, I tell you, he had a soilem countenance naterally— and after he got to be deacon 'twas more so, but since he 'd lost his health he looked soUemer than ever, and certingly you wouldent wonder at it if you knowed how much he underwent. He was troubled with a wonderful pain -in his chest, and amazin' weakness in the spine of his back, besides the pleurissy in the side, and having the ager a consider- able part of the time, and bein' broke of his rest o' nights 'cause he was so put to 't for breath when he laid down. Why its an onaccountable fact that when that man died he hadent seen a well day in fifteen year, though when he was married and for five or six year after I shouldent desire to see a ruggeder man than what he was. But the time I 'm speakin' of he'd been out o' health nigh upon ten year, and dear sakes 1 how he had altered since the first time I ever see him ! That was' to a quiltin' to Squire Smith's a spell afore Sally was married. I 'd no idee then that Sal Smith was a gwine to be married to Sam Pendergrass. Se 'd ben» keepin' company with Mose Hewlitt, for better 'n a year, and every body said that was a settled thing, and lo and behold ! all of a sudding she up and took Sam Pendergrass. Well, that was the first time I ever see my husband, and if any body 'd HEZEKIAH BEDOTT. 23 a told me tlien that I should ever many him, I shotild a said — ^but lawful sakes ! I most forgot, I ■was gwine to tell you what he said to me that evenin', and when a body begins to tell a thing 'I believe in finishin' on 't some time or other. Some folks have a way of talMn' round and round and round for ever- more, and never comin' to the piat. Now there's Miss Jiakins, she that was Poll Bingham afore she was married, she is the tejusest individooal to tell a stpry that ever I see in all my bom days. But I was a gwine to tell you. what husband said. He says to me says he, "Silly," says I, "What?" I. dident say " What, Hezekier ?" for I dident like his name. The first time I ever heard it'I near killed myself a laffin. " Hezekier Bedott," says I, " well, I would give up if I had sich a name," but then you know I had no more idee o' marryin' the feller than you have this minnit 6' marryin' the governor. I s'pose you think it 's curus we should a named our oldest son Hezekier. Well, we done it to please father and mother Bedott, it 's father Bedott's name, and he and mother Bedott both used to think that names had ought to go down from gineration to gineration. But we always called him Kier, you know. Speakin' o' Kier, he iis a bless- in', .ain't he ? and I ain't the qnly one that thinks so, I guess. Now don't you never tell nobody that I said so, but between you and me I rather guess that if Kezier Winkle thinks she is a gwine to ketch Kier 24 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. Bedott she is a leetle out of her reckonin'. But I was going to tell what husband said. He says to me, says he, " Silly," I says, says I, " What ?" If I dident say " what" when he said " SHly," he 'd a kept on saying " Silly," from time to eternity. He always did, be- cause, you know, he wanted me to pay pertikkeler attention, and I ginerally did ; no woman was ever more attentive to her husband than what I was. Well, he says to me, says he, " Silly." Says I, " What?" though I 'd no idee what he was gwine to say, dident know but what 'twas somdihing about his sufferings, though he wa'n't apt to complain, but -he frequently used, to remark that he wouldent wish his worst enemy to suffer one minnit as he did all the time, but that can't be called grumbhn' — think it can ? Why, I 've seen him in sitivatiohs when you 'd a thought no mortal could a helped grumblin', but he dident. He and me went once in the dead o' winter in a one hoss slay out to Boonville to see a sister o' hisen. You know the snow is amazin' deep in that section o' the kentry. Well, the hoss got stuck in _pne o' them are flambergasted snow-banks, and there we sot, enable to stir, and to cap all, while" we was a sittin' there, husband was took with a dretful crick in Ms back. Now that was what I call a perdickerment, don't you ? Most men would a swore, but husband dident. He only said, says he, " Consarn it:" How did we get out, did you ask ? Why we might a been HEZEKIAH BEDOTT. 25 sittin' there to tMs day fur as /know, if there hadent a happened to come along a mess o' men in a double team and they hysted us out. But I was gwine to tell you that observation o' hisen. Says he to me, says he, " Sniy," (I could see by the Kght o' the fire, there dident happen to be no candle burnin', if I don't disremember, though my memory is sometimes rather forgitful, but I know we wa'n't apt to burn candles exceptin' when we had company) I Could see by the light of the fire that his mind was oncommon solemn- ized. Says he to me, says he, "Silly." I says to him, says I, "What?" He says to me, says he, " We 're all poor critters /" 2 II • ®fej ®iJr0ito €nuus i0Hr2. 'Y'ES — ^he was one o' the.. best men tliat ever trod stoe-leather Imsljand was, tHougli Miss jinkina says (she 'twas Poll Bingham) s7te says, I never found it out till after lie died, but that's the consamdest lie that ever was told, though it 's jest of a piece with every thing else she says about me. I guess if every body could see the poitry I writ to his memory, no- body wouldent think I dident set store by him. Want to hear it ? Well, I 'H see if I can say it ; it gineraUy affects me wonderfully, seems to harrer up my feehns ; but I '11 try. Dident know I ever writ ' poetry ? how you talk ! used to make lots on 't ; haint so much late years. I remember once when Parson Potter had a bee,- 1 sent him an amazin' great cheese, and I writ a piece o' poitry and pasted on top on 't. It says : Teach, him for to proclajin Salvation to the folks, No occasion give for any blame Nor wicked people's jokes. And so it goes on, but I guess I won't stop to say the rest on 't now, seein' there 's seven and forty verses. THE WIDOW ESSAYS POETET. 27 Parson Potter and his mfe -was wonderfully pleased with it, used to sing it to the tune o' Haddem. But I was gwine to tell the one I made in relation to hus- band, it begius as foUers : He never jawed in all his life, He never -was onUnd — And (tho' I say it that was his wife) Sadi men yon seldom find. (That 's as true as the Scripturs, I never knowed him to say a harsh word.) I never changed my single Ipt — I thonght 't would be a sin — (though widder JiaMns says it 's because I never had a chance.) Now 't ain't for me to say whether I ever shai. a numerous number o' chances or not, but there's them livin' that might tell if they was a mind to; why, this poitry was writ on account of being joked about Major Coon, three year after husband died. I guess the ginerality o' folks knows what was the nature o' Major Coon's feelins toward me, tho' his wife and Miss Jinkins does say I tried to ketch him. The fact is, Miss Coon feels wonderfully cut up 'cause she knows the Majpr took her " Jack at a pinch" — seein' he couldent get such as he wanted, he took such as he could get — ^but I goes on to say — I never Changed my single lot — I thought 'twould he a sin — For I thought so nraoh o' Deacon Bedott I never got married agin. 28 WIDOTV BEDOTT PAPEES. If ever a hasty word he spoke His anger dident last, But vanished like tohaoker smoke Afore the wint'ry blast. And since it was my lot tp be The -wife of such a man, * tell the men that 's after ma To ketoh me if they can. If I was sick a single jot He called the doctor in — That 's a fact — ^he used to be scairt to deatli if any thing ailed me, now only jest tliink-^widder JinMns told Sam Pendergrasses wife (she 'twas Sally Smith) that she guessed the deacon dident set no great store by me, or he wouldent a went off to conirence meetin' when I was down with the fever. The truth is, they couldefit git along without him no way. Parson Pot- ter seldom went to confrence meetin', and wlien he wa'n't there, who was ther, pray teU, that knowed enough, to take the lead if husband dident do it? Deacon Kenipe hadent no gift, and Deacon Crosby' hadent no inclination, and so it aU coine on to Deacon Bedott — and he was always ready and wiUin' to do Ms duty, you know ; as long as he was able to stand on his legs he continued to go to confrence meetin ; why, I 've knowed that man to go when he couldent scarcely crawl on account o' the pain in the spine of his back. He had a wonderful gift, and he wa'n't a man to keep his talents hid up in a napkin — so you eee 't was from a sense o' duty he went when I was THE WIDOW ESSAYS POETRT. 29 sick, whatever Miss Jinkins may say to tlie contrary. But wliere was I ? 0— If I was sick a single jot He called the doctor in — I sot so much, store by Deacon Bedott I never got married agin. A wonderful tender heart he had That felt for all inankind — It made him feel amazin' bad To see the world so blind. Whiskey and rum heitasted net- That 's as true, as the Scripturs — ^but if you '11 believe it, Betsy, Ann Kenipe told my Melissy that Miss Jin- kins said one day to their house how 't she 'd seen Deacon Bedott high, time and agin ! did you ever I Well, I 'm glad nobody don't pretend to mind any thing she says. I 've knowed Poll Bingham from, a gal, and she never knowed how to speak the truth — besides she always had a pertikkeler spite against hus- band and me, and between us tew, I '11 tell you why if you won't mention it, for I make it a pint never to say nothin' to injm-e nobody. Well, she was a ravin- distracted after my husband herself, ,but it 's a long story, I 'll4ell you about it some other time, and then you '11 know why widder Jinkins is etarnally riinnin' me down. See — ^where had I got to ? 0, I remem- ber now — ' Whiskey and rum he tasted not — Jle thought it was a sin — 1 thought BO much o' Deacon Bedott I never got married agin. 80 WIDOW BBDOTT FAPEES. But now he 's dead ! the thought is killin' m My grie^ I can't control— He never left a single ehillin His widder to console. But tHat wa'n't Ids fault— lie was so out o' health for a number o' year afore he died, it ain't to be wondered at he- dident lay up npthin' — ^however it dident give him no great oneasiness — ^he never cared much for airthly riches, though Miss Pendergrass says she heard Miss Jihkins say Deacon Bedott was as tight as the skin on his back — ^begrudged.foIks their vittals when they came to his house ! did you ever ! why he was the hull-souldest man I ever see in all my born days. If I'd such a husband as Bill Jinkins was I'd hold my tongue about my neighbors' husbands. He was a dretful mean man,, used to git drunk every day of his life — and he had an awful high temper— used to. swear like aU possest when he got mad — and I 've heard my husband say — (and he wa'n't a man that ever said any thing that wa'n't true) — ^I 've heard Mm say Bill Jinkins would cheat his own father out of his eye teeth if he had a chance. Where was I? 01 "His widder to console" — ^ther ain't but one more verse, 't ain't a^very lengthy poim. Wfien Parson Potter read it, he says to me, says he—" What did you stop so soon for?"— hut Miss Jinkins told the Crosby's she thought I'd better a stopt afore I'd begun — ^she 's a purty critter to talk so, I must say. I 'd like to see some poitry o' hern— I guess it would be THE WIDOW ESSAYS POETEY. 31 afltonishiii' stuff; and mor 'n all that, slie said there ■wa'n't a ■word o' truth, in the hnll on 't — said I never cared tuppence for the deacon. What an everlastin' lie 1 1 Why — ^when he died, I took it so hard I went deranged, and took on so for a spell they was afraid they should have to send me to a Lunattio Arsenal. But that 's a paipftd subject, I won't dwell on 't. I conclude as follows : I '11 never change my single lot— I think 't woiild be a sin — The moonsdaWe iridder o' Deacon pedott, Don't intend to get married agin. Excuse my cryin' — ^my feelins always overcomes me so when I say that poitry — O-o-o-o-o-o 1 III. /^ YES I I remember I promised to tell you the ' cause o' widder Jinkinses ennimosity to me^ — Melissy, pass tlie bread — well, you see, Deacon Bedott (he wa'n't deacon then though) he come — help yarself to butter, dew' — ^he come to Wiggletown to teach the deestrict school. He was origginally from the Black Eiver kentry. His father was a forehanded farmer, and he 'd give Hezekier a complete eddication — ^he took to larnin' naterally. Is your tea agreeable ? I s'pose ther wa'n't his equil for cypherin' no wher round. Well, Squire Smith he was out in them parts, and he got acquainted with Hezekier, and he see that he was an oncommon capable young man, and so he conduced him to come to Wiggletown and teach school. Kier, pass the cheeze to Miss Higgins. Don't never eat cheeze 1 dew tell ! well, husband couldent eat cheeze without impunity durin' the last years of his life — used to say that it lay like a stun on his stomick ; as sure as he eat a piece o' cheeze for his supper, he 'd lay awake gtoanin'' all night, if he dident take some WIDOW JENEINS' ANIMOSITY. S3 kind of an antigote to peiyent it. But I was gwiae to tell — ^Well, the day after lie come to our place, Squire Smitli's folks had a quiltin' — ^I was there — ■ 't wa'n't long afore Sally was married (she 'tis Sam Pendergrasses wife) — she was a makin' her quilts — though 'twas ginefally thought she was engaged to Mose Hewlet, and as to that matter, it 's my opinion she might better a had him than the one she did have. I never thought Sam Pendergrass was much — ^none o' the Pendergrasses ain't no great shakes, though he 's good enough for Sal Smith. Melissy, why don't you sarve out the sass ? That sass aio't fdst-rate — you see, while 'twas a dewin' Loviney Skinner, she come in with that are subscription paper, to git up a society for " the uniyar'sal diffusion of elevation among the colored poperlation," and while I was lookin' at it to see who 'd signed and how much they gi'n, the sass got overdid. But 1 was gwine to tell about that quiltin'. Ther was a number o' young folks there — ■ see — ^there was Prissilly Poole (that 's me), PoU^Bing- ham (Bill Jinkinses widder), Huddy HewHt (she married Nat Farntash and both on 'em died to the westard a- number o' years ago), and Sally Smith (Sam Pendergrasses wife), and the Peabodys (Jeru- shy married Shadrack Dany — ^but Betsey ain't mar- ried yet, though I s'pose if ever any body tried faithfully to git a husband Bets' Peabody has), and Nab Hinksten (she 'tis Major Coon's wife now), 2* 34 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPEES. though tten she waVt notHa' biit a milliner's ap- printice. 1 remember, I -woiidered at the Smiths for invitin' her, but they never was pertikkeler who they went with,' and she always had a wonderful way o' crowdiii' in. See— you heerd, dident you, how 't she said I tried to ketch the Major, but he lookt jruther higher 'n to marry widder Bedott? He must a lookt consarn-ed high when he took Nab Hiuksten ! She 's a purty critter to be a tryin' to disperse my character, I dew say 1 I' 11 let her know 't Deacon Bedott's widder ain't a gwine to be put down by the like o' her. "What was she, pray tell, in he:' yonng days ? I make it a pint never to say nothin' against nobody — ^but truth ain't no slander, think it is? and' all creation knows she wa'n't nobody. Why her father was a poor drunken shack away down in Bottletbwn, and her mother took in washin', and Nab Hiuksten herself worked out for a half a dollar a week, till Miss Potter was down there one time a visitin' Parson Potter's re- lations, and she took pity on her and fetched her up to "Wiggletown to live with her ; but after a spell she got above dewin' housework and went into Miss Dick- erson's milliner shop, and there she stayed till Zeb Hawkins married her, and after he died o' delirreum trimmins, she sot tew to ketch somebody else, and at last phe draw'd in Major Coon — he 'd been disappinted ('t ain't for me to say who disappinted him) and so he dident care much who he married : and now she 's "WIDOW JENKINS' ANIMOSITY. S3 Miss Major Coon I 0, deary me^ it 's enough to make a body sick to see tke airs she puts on. Pid you see her come nippin' into meetin' last Sabber day with that are great long ostridge feather in her bunnit, and a shawl as big as a bed Mver? But I could put up with her if she wouldent slander her> betters. She and Miss Jinkins is wonderful intimit now, though I remember when PoU Bingham hUd her head high enough above Nab Hinksten, at that . quiltin' she dident scarcely speak to her. Is your cup out? Take some more bread — ^not no more ? why you don't eat nothing — I 'm afeard you won't make out a supper — well dew take a piece o' the sweetoake— I ain't sure about it bein' good, Melissy made it and she 's apt to git in a leetle tew much molasses — ^but them nutcakea / hnow is good, for I made 'em myself, and I dew think I make nuteakes ahout as good as any body else. Kier 's a wonderful fevoryte o' nuteakes, ain't you Kier? but his father couldent eat 'em at all for a number o' year afore he died — ^they were tew rich for his stomick — -jest as sure as he eat a nutcake he used to have a sick spell afterward. But I was a gwine to teU how Poll Bingham come to take such a spite against me — well, the-beginnin' on 't commenced at that are quiltin'. In the evenin' you see the young men come. There was HezeMer Bedott — Zeb Haw- kins (he 't was Miss Coon's &st husband, he got to be a worthless critter afore he died), and Shubal Green 36 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. (he was a wonderful good singer, liad an amazin' powerful Toice, used to sing in meetin' and nigh about raise the ruff o' the meetin'-house off), and Zophax Slocum— he was studyin' to be a doctor, he was a smart young man but dretfal humbly: he used to trrite the poitry for the "Wiggleton Banner." He got dretfully in love with a young woman once, and she dident recipperate his feelins — 't ain't for me to tell who the young woman was. I don't approve o' teUin' such things — ^well, he got into such a takin' on account o' her coldness, that at last he writ her a letter tellin' of her how 't he couldent stan such undifference no longer, and if she contiaood to use Mm so, he was determined to commit self-suiside--'at the end o' the letter, he put in a varse o' poitry— it says-^ O, 'tia a dretftil thing to he In Buoh. distress and miseree I I 'm eny most a natteral fool AH on account o' Silly Poole 1 There! I've let on who 'twas— hain't I? but he altered his mind about killin' himself, and was married about three months after to Sophier Jones. Taie another nut-cake — dew. Why, what a small eater you be! I'm afeared the vittals don't suit you. Well, less see who else was there. O, Tim Crane, He was a wonderful softly feller — dident scarcely know enough to go in when it rained, though he was purty sharp at makin' money. He married Trypheny ■WIDOW JEITKINS' ANIMOSITY. 37 Kenipe, Deacon Kenipe's sister — thej went to tte westard, and I've heered they'd got to be quite rich. I guess it must be owin' to Miss Crane's scrapin' and savin', for sbe was the stingiest of- all created critters. What did you say,. Kier? Jim Crane - comin' back here t6 live ? Well, 't won't be no great addition to Wiggletown, for they ain't ^Whatl Kier Bedott ? Miss Crane dead 1 Land d' liberty I what an awful thing ! Dear me ! I dew feel amazin' sori'y for Mr. Grane ! how onfortinate I to lose his wife 1 such a nice woman as she was, tew I What did you say, Melissy Bedott ! How 't I jest called Miss Crane a. stingy critter? you must a misunderstood me a purpose I I said she was an oncommon eqtiinomical woman. I always- thought a master sight of Miss Crane, though I must say she wa'n't quite good enough for such a man as Timothy Crane. He 's an amazin' fine man, I said he dident know nothing? Kier Bedott, how you c?eM? misunderstand. I meant that he was a wonderful unoffensive man, well-dis- posed toward every body. Well, I 'm glad Mr. Crane 's a comin' back here ; should think H would be melancholy to stay .there after buryin' his pardner. His poor motherless darters, tew ! I feel for them. It 's a dretful thing for gaUs to be left without a mother I Melissy, what be you winkin' to Kier for? Don't you know it 's very improper to wink ? Eaer, did Deacon Kenipe say what complaint Miss Crane died "of ? The 88 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. eperdemio! how you talk! that's a tarrible disease I I remember it prevailed in our place when I was quite ;^oung — a number,©' individuals died on't I don't wonder Mr. Crane wants to git away &om the west- ard, it must be; very onpleasant to stay to a place where his companion was tore away fiom him by such an aggravatin' complaint as the eperdemio. Won't you be helped to nothing more ? — 0, sure enough— I was goin' to tell how Poll Bingham came to be such an inimy o' mine-^now, I shouldn't wonder if she should set tew and try tew ketch Mr. Crane when he comes back, .phould you ? I '11 bet forty great apples she '11 dew it, she 's been ravin' distr3,cted to git married ever since she was a widder, but I ruther guess- Timo- thy Crane ain't a man to be took in by such a great fat, humbly, slanderin' old butter tub. She 's as gray as a rat, tew, that are hair o' hern 's false. I 'm gray tew. I guess you haiat told no news now, Mehssy Bedott. I know I'm ruther gray, but it's owin' to sickness and trouble. I had n't a gray hair in my head when yer par died. I ain't as old as widder JinJdns, by a number o' year. I think 't would be a good idear for some friendly person to' warn Mr. Crane aginst Poll Jinkins as soon as he gits" here, don't you? I dew feel for Mr. Crane. Kier, I wish you 'd invite hiin to step in when you see him, I want to convarse with him, I feel to sympathize with him in his afflic- tive dispensation. I know what 'tis to lose a pardner. TTTALK in! WhjMv. Crane how dew you dew? I'm despot giad to See you — amazin' glad. Kier told me you'd arriv' seTeral days ago, and I've been suspectin'you in every day sence. Take a cheer and set ddwn-^ew; — Why Mr. Crane, you Hold yer own wonderfully, don't grow old a speck as I see. Think 'I've altered much? Don't, hay? 'Well, Mr. Crane, we 've both on us ha,d trouble enough to make us look old. Excuse my cryin', Mr. Crane. I've ben dretfully exercised ever sence I heerd o' your affliction. 0! Mr. Crane! what poor short-sighted critters we be! can't calkilate with any degree o' sar- tinty what 's a gwine to happen. Parson Potter used to say 'twas well we didn't know the futur, cause 'twould have an attendency to onfit us for dewin' our duty; and so 'twould'^— if you and I'd a knowed when you went away fifteen year ago, what we 'd got to undergo, 't would a nigh about killed us, would n't it? . O! Mr. Crane! Mr. Crane! Creation has dealt purty hard with us sence we parted I Then, you had 40 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. a wife — an uncommon likely woman slie was tew — and I was blest with one o' tlie best o' men for a Inisband— now, I'm a widder, and you're a wid- dyiver. But our loss is tbeir gain — at least I 'm sartia my, loss is Deacon Bedott's gain. O ! Mr. Crane, haw that man did suffer for a number o' year afore be died; but be was tbe resignedest critter I ever did see — never grumbled a grain. Parson Potter used to say 't was to eddification to come to see bim, and bear bim convarse. He felt wonderful bad about your bein' gone to tbe westard, Mr. Grane. He used to frequent- ly remark," tbat be 'd giv more to see Mr. Crane tban ary individdyival be knowed on. He sot a great deal by you — and so did I by Miss Crane. "We botb on us felt as if we could n't be reconciled to your livin' away off tbere— it seemed as if we could n't have it so no way. It's a dretful pity you went tbere, Mr. Crane. Mabby if you bad n't a went, yer pardner would n't a died — ^but wbat 's did can't be ondid, it 's all for tbe best, I was turribly evercome wben I beerd o' ber deatb — fainted away, and 't was quite a spell afore I come tew. That's a bad clymit, Mr. Crane — ^it must be a bad clymit, or the eperdemic, and fever ager wouldn't prevail so there. A few year afor husband died, he bad quite a notion to go to the west- ard. He heerd how well you was a dewin' — and then there was Samson Bedott, his cousin (he married Hep- By Gifford, you know), he went some where to the west- ME. OEANE WALKS IN, 41 ard — and after lie'd ben there a spell, lie writ my hus- band a letter, urgin' of him to come out there, he said to be sure the clymit was ruthep tryin' at fust — ^but then after you 'd got used to 't, you 'd be riaggfider 'n ever you was afore — :and it was such a wonderful kentry jfor agricultifer to grow — said 't wa'n't nigh so mount- anions as the eastard— the yomandery didn't have to labor no wher nigh so hard as what they did here — • just plant your perduce- and that was the eend on 't — 'twould take care of itself till 'twas- time to git it in. Well,, husband was quite fierce to go — and if it hadn't a ben for ihe, he would a went, but I wouldn't hear to 't at all. I says to him, says I, " ',T wont dew for you to go there, no how — Samson, himself, owns it 's a tryin' clymit — and if it's tryin' for well hearty folks, how do you 'Spose you^d stan' it? you enjoy poor enough health here, and if you was to go there you 'd enjoy woss yet, what's agricultifer compared to health ?" I was a great deal more consarned for hus- band than what I was for myself, Mr. Crane — ^be sure it 's a woman's duty to feel so, but seems to me I felt it oncommonly. And no wonder, for my husband was a treshux. O ! Mr. Crane, when I lost him I lost all. And that's what makes me feel to sympathize . with you as I dew, Mr. Crane. Our sittywations are so much alike. I 'spose you feel as if your loss could n't never be made up to you, don't you ? That 's jest how I felt. Now there's Major Coon, and Mr. 42 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPEES. Gdfford, and Squire Perce, and Oappen Ganoot, and old uncle Dawson (he's old but he's quite rich), why, nary one o' them would n't a fiUed Deacon Bedott's place to me. 'T ain't for me to say they We all wanted me— ahem — ^but s'posen they should, you know. Whenever my friends be^n to talk" to me about changia' my condition, I always teU 'em it 's a resh-r- and so 'tis Mr. Crane — ^it 's a turrible resk to take a second pardner' — ^without its an individdyival you know 'd when you was young — that makes a difiference — 't ain't so resky, then. But after all, Mr, Crane — ^it 's a tryin' thing to be without a companion-^ain't it? And then there's the responsibilitude and bringrag^ up the children — ^widders complains most o' that. But there 's a wonderful difference in folks about that. Now 't wa'n't no great chore for me to bring up my children. Parson Potter's wife fraquently used to say (she had quite a large family, you know), she used to say to me, "Miss Bedott I'd giv eny, most eny thiag if I had such a faculty for managin' children as you 'fc got, and for dewin' as well' by 'em as what you do." Ther is an amazin' difference in wimmin-«r now ther 's the widder Jinkins — she 'twas PoU Bing» ham — see — ^you knowd PoU Bingham when she was a gal,, did n't yoti? Very nice gal did you say!!! Why Mr. Crane, how forgetful your memory is I But I don't know as she was so much woss than some other gal3 I've knowd. A body can't teU what sort of a ME. OEANE WALKS IN. 43 ■woman a gal will mate afore she 's marriedr-tliey don't always sliour out, you know. But I make it a pint never to say nothing against nobody — and I am sure I don't wish Miss Jinkins no harm — ^for aU she 's did so much to injure me. I was only gwine to speak o' her way o' briagin' up her children, 'Tis astonishr in' how that critter has manned with them young ones I She 's.the miserablest hand I ever did see in all my born days. Why theiiti little plagues was in the streets, from mornin' till night— Bill and Sam a swearin' and throwin' stuns— and Alviry a racin' and rompin' and botherin' the neigibors. They've got bigger now and ain't quite so troublesome, though they 're bad enough yet — ^but that ain't to be wondered at — ^for Miss Jinkins has so much gaddin' to dew she hain't no time to tend to her family. But if that was all ther was against her 'twould n't b6 so bad. How- ever— I don't want to talk about her — ^tmth ain't to be-spoken at all times you know— ^but I will say I should pity any decent man that got her for a wife — 'specially if he had children. Speakin' o' children — you must feel Miss Crane's loss dretfuHy intakin' care o' yourn. It 's an awful task for a man to manage gals, Mr. Crane — and youVe got four on 'em — Mirandy and Sehny is purty weU growd up — ^butthen them tew little ones — see — ^what's ther names? 0, yes — ^Liddy and.'Sary Ann. What purty little critters they be thought I noticed them in meetin' a Sabber- 44 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. day— Mr. Crane ! when I looked at tliem poor little darlin's — a settin' there all in monrnin'-^aTid thought about their motherless sittywation — I felt as if I should a bust right out a cryin' I I had to hold my handkerchief afore my face. O Mr. Crane ! I dew- feel for them children I It 's so onfortinate to be left without a mother I— jest at their age tew — ^when they have so much viyacitude and animosity, and need a mother's care for to train 'em rightly. O Mr. Crane! it 's turrible Iturrible ! What would Melissy a did if it had a ben me that died instid of her par ? She wa'n't but ten year old, just about the age o' them little cherubims o' yourn. My husband was an on- common gifted man — and a wonderful kind father — but he would n't a did by Melissy as I have — ^he would n't a knowed how to expend her mind and de- vilup her understandin' as I have — ^but I 've got a natteral tack. Melissy 's a credit to me, Mr. Crane — tho' it 's me that says so, she 's eny most as good a housekeeper as what I be, but 't ain't for me to boast — I've been indefategable in train' of her. I 'm sorry she hain't to hum to-uight — she and Kier 's gone to singin' school. Yes — it's an onfortinate thing for gals to be left without a mother. It was dretful Miss Crane 's bein' took away — so sudding tew — I feel so distrest about your moloncoUy sittywation I can't scarcely sleep o' nights. I 've jest begun a piece o' poitry desoribin' you feeHns. I 'U read you what I 've MB. OEANB WALES IN. 45 got writ if you're a mind to hear it, tho' it ain't only jest begiin. I call it— ME. CBAKE's lamentations ON THE DEATH OF HIS COMPANION. Trypheny Crane ! trypheny Crane I And shan't we never meet no more ? My bozzom heaves with tnrrible pain While I thy ontimely loss deplore. I nsed to fraqnently grumhle at my fate And be afeerd I was a gwine to snffer sorrer- Ent since you died my trouble is so great I hain't got no occasion for to borrer. The birds is singin' in the trees, The flowers is blowin' On the plain, But they hain't g^ot no power to please Without my dear Trypheny Crane. I can't submit to 't though I must," It is a dretful blbw. My heart is ready for to bust— I shall give up I know. And tliongh ondoubtedly my loss Is my dear pardner's gain, . I can't be reconciled, because I 've lost Trypheny Crane. WHen I git aU vmt I'll giv it to you if you want it. I caUdlate to liave it considerable longer — ^I al- ways aim to have my poims long enough to pay folks for the trouble o' readin of 'em. What! must you go ? Well dew come in agin — come often — ^IVe been quite gratified hearia of yoU talk — ^you 've been away 60 long. Now dew be neighborly — and dew teU Mi- 46 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPBES. randy and Seliny to come and see MeHssy — and lid- dy and Sary Ann — dew let them come oyer, I'm veiy fond o' cMIdren — ^very iiideed — and I feel so mucli for them are tew dear little mothedess critters. Well — ^good night, Mr. Crane 1 /"HOOD evenin', Betsy— (Mr. (Crane's "help.")— Is ^-^ Mr, Crane to Inmi? Is he in the kitchen? in the settin' room, hey? Ain't very ■vsreU? why how you talk I WeU, I want to see him a minnit, but I guess I'U jest step in the kitchin fust and dry my feet. I 'd no idee 'twas so sloppy or I 'd a wore my over- dioes — seems to me you're got yer kitehen heated up wonderful hot — 0, stewin yerpunkin, hey? I've been makin some pies to-day, tew. You must have a purty hard time here, Betsy. Mr. Crane 's a fine man, a very fine man — a very fine man, indeed — ^but 'tain't as if he had a wife — now every thing comes on his help, you see — ^the gals is nice gals— amaziu' nice gals but they hain't no experience — ^never had no care you know — and 'taiu't natral to s'pose they could take .right hold and dew, as soon as ther mar died. But it sems rather hard to see so much come onto a young gal like you. On ?/owr account I wish Mr. Crane had a wife, 't would be so much easier for you — ^that is if he got a good experienced woman o' biziness — that 48 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. had bning up a family of lier own— don't you tliink so ?— Well, my feet's got purty well dry-jl guess I'll step into tlie settin' room and see Mr. Crane— I've got an arrant tew him. How d' you dew, Mr. Crane? I'm. dretfal sorry to hear you ain't well, I wa'n't a comin' in — ^but Betsy said you was undisposed — and I was unwillin' to make you egspose yerself by comin' to the door — so I thought I 'd jest step in where you was — ^hope I don't intrude — ^I jest riin over to fetch that are poitry I've ben writen for you — ^I would a gin it to yer darters — ^they called in for Melissy to go to sing- in' school — ^but I was afeard they'd lose it afore they got hum. — ^young gals is kerless, you know. Here 'tis — 'taia't so long as I meant to have, arter all — only nine and forty varses — ^but I 've had company — sister Magwire (she 'twas Uelissy Poole, you know — ^my youngest sisterj the one my Melissy was named arter) she's ben to see me, and stayed a week, and when a body has company it Idnd o' flustrates a body's idees, you know. And then, tew, sister Magwire don't take no interest in no such thing. She 's a very clever wo- man, Melissy is, but she ain't a bit like me — ^hain't no genyus' — no more' haia't sister Harrinton — ^why they don't nary one on 'em take no more sense o' poitry than that are stove. If I had a let on to sister Mag- wire what I was a writin', she 'd a tried to stop me — had to work at it q' nights arter she 'd went to bed—; and that 's the reason why I hain't finished it afore. DISCOUBSES OF PUMPKINS. 49 Sister Magwire's a smart woman, tew in her way — ^but it 's a different kind o' smart from mine. I think her bein' married to such a man has exarted an onfav- orable attendenoy on her. "Mr." Magwird 's a stiddy, well-meanin' man — and has got along amazin' pros- perous in the world — ^but he has dr,etful curus notions. Why, when I writ that affeetin' allegory to the memo- ry o' my husban'd,. as true as I lire, Mr. Grane, broth- er Magwire laffed about it' right to my face! — said' 'twas enough to make the deacon 'groan under ground — did you ever! I felt dretful hurt about it, but I never laid it up agin him^ 'cause I know'd he dident know no better. But I dew feel wonderful consarned about yer health, Mr. Crane. "What seems to be- the - matter with you ? Pain in yer chist ! O ! that 's tur- riblej — it always scares me to death to hear of any body's havin' a pain in ther chist. "Why-that very thing was the beginnin' o' my husband's sickness, that finally terminated in his expiration. It ought to be tended tew right off, Mr. Crane, Tight off. "When husband fust had it, 'twant very bad, and 'he dident pay no tention to 't — next' time 'twas rother woss, and I wanted him to'send for the doctor, but he wouldent — ^he was always amazinly opposed to physicianers. "Well, thenext time he was attacked 'twas dretful bad — ^he had to lay by — stiU all I could dew I couldent conduce him to have a doctor. Well it went on so for three days. I done all I could for him, but it 50 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPERS. dident do a smite o'^good — he kept a gittin'' wosa and ■woss, and tlie tMrd day he was so distrest it did seem as if every breath hedxaw'd would be the death on him. Jest then old mother Pike come in— she was quite a doctor, you know — ^and she said he must take skoke - berries and rum right off— ther wa'n't nothin' like it for pain in the chist — she always kep it in the house — so she goes right hum and fetches over a bottle on't and gin husband a wine glass full. She said he must begin with a purty stiff dose, 'cause he 'd let it run on so long— arterward a gret spunful nigh-t and mornin' would be enough. Well, 'tis astonishin' how soon my husband experienced relief. Arter that he always took it as long as he lived, and I dew believe it allivated his sufferings wonderfully' — ^yes — I hain't a doubt but what if he 'd a took it afore his disorder was seated, that man 'd a been alive and well to this day. But what '3 did can't be ondid — ^it 's no use cryin' for spilt milk. Now, Mr. Crane, I dew beseech you, as a friend, to- take skoke berries and rum afore it 's tew late^ Tem- perance man, hey ? So be I, tew ; and you don't s'pose, dew you, Mr. Crane, that I 'd advise you to take any thing that would intosticate you ? I 'd die afore I 'd dew it. I think tew much o' my repertation and yourn tew, to do such a thing. But it is the harmless- est stuff a body can take. You see the skoke berries oounterects the alkyhall in the rum, and annyliatea all its intosticatin' qualities. We jest put the rum on DISCPUESES OF PUMPKINS. 51 to make it keep. You know skoke berries can't be got in the winter time, so if you want to presarve 'em for winters, you Ve got to put some sort o' sperits tew 'em- so 's they worftspyle. So don't you be none aifeard to. take it, Mr. Crane. I'll send you some wlienlgo hum — ^I always keeps. it on hand— and you be faithful and take a great spunful night and mornin' — and if you ain't the better for 't, afore long — then I 'm out o' my calkilation— that 's all. You must feel yer loss oncommonly when you ain't well, Mr. Crane. K ever a departed companion 's missed — ■ seems to me it must be when the afflicted surviver's sick — 'specially if its a vxidiwer that's lost his wife. How awful lonesome you must be here alone, when the children 's in bed and the gals has gun off — as I s'pose they fraquently dew when.evenin' comes — and I don't blame them for 't as I know on — ^its natural for young folks to like to go. How dretful lonesome you must be. Now some men wouldent mind it so much — ^they, 'd go abroad and divart ther minds — ^but you ain't a m'an to go to taverns and shops' and such like places to begwile the time — you 're a man that 's above such things, Mr. Crane — and that 's what makes it so aggrevative for you to be without a, pardner. I went into the kitchen to dry my feet as I came in — and 0, Mr. Crane ! I never did experience such moloncolly sensations in my life as* did when I see how things went on there— -'twaa plain to be seen ther want no 52 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. head in tlie kitclienary department — and wlien 'tain't well managed there— 1 tell you wliat, Mr. Crane— 't won't be long afore it '11 be out o' kilter every where, Now Betsey Pringle's a clever enougli gal far as I know — ^but she's young and onstiddy, and wants lookin' tew every minnit. She lived to Sam Pender- grasses a spell — and Miss Pendergrass told me how't Betsey could dew — ^but she wanted somebody to her heels, t' overlook her all the time — she was such a kerless critter — said she couldent git along with her no way. Now if Sam, Pendergrasses wife couldent Stan' it with Betsey, it 's a mystery *o me how tew young gals Kke yourn is a gwine to git along with her. They hain't never had no care, and 't ain't to be suspect- ed they should know how to manage — ^"t would be cruel to require it on 'em. It needs an experienced woman — and one that takes an interest in things, to keep house right. Ther was one thing hurt my feel- ins amazinly when I was in the kitchen — ^Betsey was a stewin' punkins for pies — I knowd in a minnit by , the smell, that the critter was a burnin on*t up. I diderit say nothin— thought mabby she 'd be put out if I did, cause I ain't mistress here — ^but I couldent soercely hold in. I '11 be bound, Mr. Crane, you won't have a punkin pie fit t' eat all winter long — and it makes me feel bad to think on 't — for I make gret ac- count o' punkins in winter tinJe — don't you ? Speak- in o' punkins reminds me of a trick Miss Jinkins DISCOURSES OF PUMPKINS. 53 sarved me once (she't was Poll Bingliam) — ^I never see a punlda without tMnMn' on 't — and its tew good to keep — thougli I don't want to say nothin' to injure Miss Jinkins. 'T was tew year ago this fall — some- how or other our punMns dident dew well that year. Kier said he dident know whether the seed was poor, or what 'twas — any how, our- punkins dident come to nothin' at all — ^had to make all my punMn pies out o' sq^uashes— and them ain't no wher nigh as good as pun- kins. Well, one day I see Sam and Bill Jinkins go by with a load o' punkins^-so I says to Mellissy, says I, " I mean to jest run orer and see if Miss Jinkins won't let me have one o' her punkins," — ^the sight on. 'em fairly makes my mouth water. So I throws on my shawl and goes over — though.I very seldom axed any favors o' her — ^notwithstandin' she was etarnally borrerin' o' me — why ther want scarcely a day past but what she sent to borrer somethin or other — a loaf o' bread— -or a drawin' o' tea— or a little molasses or a little sugar, or what not — and what 's more — she wa'n't wonderfu.1 pertickler about payin' — and it 's a soUem fact — the times that critter has had my bake pans and my flats and my wash board, ain't to be numbered. I make it a pint never to borrer when I can help it. Ther is times to be sure — ;when the best o' housekeep- ers is put to 't and obleged to ax favors o' ther nabors — ^but as for borrerin' every ^ay — ^week in and week out, as the widder Jinkins does — ^ther ain't no need 54 WIDOW BEDOTT papees. on 't— but she can't stay to hum long enough to keep things in any kind o' decent order. But I was gwine totell how she sarved me about the punkin. Well— I goes over— and I says, says I, " Miss Jinking, I see you 're a gittin' in yer punkins — and I want to know whether or no you can't spare me one — oum's failed, you know." " Well," says she, "we hain't got more 'n enough for our own use— but seein' it's you, I guess I will let you have one." So she went and fetched in one — quite a small one 't was. " What 's the price on 't says I (I dident s'pose she 'd tak any thing, for I 'd gin her a mess o' turnips a few days afore — ^but I thought I'd offer to pay). " What 's the price on 't ?" says I. " nothin' at all," says she. "Lawful sakes !" says I, " you don't s'pose I want to heg it, dew you ? I meant to pay the money down." " You 'd look well," says she, " a payin' for 't — don't you s'pose I can afford to giv away a punkin? — ^purty story if I can't I" " Well," says I, " thank you a thousand times— you must come in to-morrer arter I git my pies made and help eat some." " Well, mabby I will," says she — so I takes my punkin and goes hum mighty plfeased. Well, next day Melissy and me we cut up the punkin — 'twas dretfal small and wonderful thin — and when I come to stew it — my gracious 1 how it did stew away ! The fact is 'twas a miserable poor punkin — good punkins don't stew down to nothin' so. Milessy she lookt into the pot and saya she to me, says she, DISCOUESES OF PUMPKINS. 55 " Granftlier grievous ! wliy mar I'm afeard tMs ere pUnkin's gwine to exasperate intirely, so ther won't be nun left on't." "Well sure enougt — arter 'twas sifted . — as true as the world, Mr. Crane — tlier want more'n a pinton't. " Why, mar," Milessy, says she — " 't wont make more 'n one good sized pie." " Never you fear," says I — " I '11 bet forty gret apples I '11 git three pies out on 't any way.'' Some folks, you know, puts eggs in punMn pieSj but accordin' to my way o' think- in, tain't no addition. When I have plenty o' punkin I never use 'em — ^but Miss Jinkinses punMn turned out so small, I see I shouldent have nun to speak on without I put in eggs; so I takes my punkin and I stirs in my molasses, and my milk, and my eggs, and my spices, and I fills three of my biggest pie-pans. " There," says I to Melissy, " did n't I say I'd make three pies, and hain't I did it?" "Yes," says she, "but they're purty much allingrejiences, and precious little punkin." Well, we got 'em in the oven, and jest as I was gwine to put in the last one, somebody knockt at the door. Melissy was a handin' on 't to me, and she was ruther startled, you know, when she heerd the knock, and she jerked away quite sudding, and spilt about half the pie out. I wiped it up as quick as I could, and Melissy she opened the door, and lo and behold ! who should come in but the wid- der Jinkins ! Arter she 'd sot a spell she says, says she, " Well, Miss Bedott, how did you make out with 56 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. yerpies?" " 0, very well," says I. " I'd jest got 'em in the oven when you come in." I thought, seein' she gin me the punkin, I wouldent say nothin' ahout its bein' such a miserable one. Mustent find fault in a gift bosses mouth, you know. "Well, when my pies was done I takes 'em and sets 'em on the table. — " Them holes nice," says the widder, says she. " They he nice," says I. I knowed they was nice, for they had every thing iu -'em to make 'em nice. So I took the thin- one that Melissy spilt over, and sot it in the buttry winderto cool, so 's to give Miss Jinkins a piece. I took that cause I knowd 't would cool sooner'n t' others, on account of its bein' thinner. "Well, when my pie was cool, I fetcht it out and sot it afor^' Miss Jinkins, and I gin her a knife and a fork, and says I, " Now help yerself. Miss Jinkins," and I tell you, the way she' helpt herself was a caution. Melissy lookt as if she was ready to burst out lafl&n ; I was raly afeard she would. Arter she 'd put in about half the pie, she laid down her knife and fork, and says she, "This ere pie ain't cool enough yet accordin' to my way of thinkin' — I never did fancy warm punkin pies," So she riz up to go. " don't go. Miss Jinkins," says I, " dew wait a spell and I'll set it out door — it '11 cool there in a few minnits— you gin me the punkin and I want you should have yer share o' the pie." " Mercy on us !" says she, "I hope you don't spose I consider a punkin such a mighty gret gift— I was very glad ot DISCOTTESES OF PUMPKINS. 57 a oliance t' obleegfe you— tut it 's time I was Imm — ^I guess I won't mind about eaten any more o' that there pie — I never did fancy thin punkin pies — <^ese ere tew HI le as much as I want." And jest as true as I live and breathe, the critter actilly took them tew pies and sot 'em crossways — one a top o' tother and marched off with 'em I Wheii she got to the door she turned round, and says she — ■" Now Miss Bedott, whenever you want any little favor, such as a punkin or any thing else I've got that you hain't got — don't scruple to ask for 't — ^it always affords me the greatest gratifica- tion to dew a nabor a kindness." Arter she 'd gone, I . lookt at Melissy and Melissy lookt at me in a perfect state o' dumfoundermentl we was so bethunderstruck, 't was as much as five minnits I guess afore ary one of us spoke a word. At last says Melissy says she, "Did you ever I" "No, never 1 never!" says I, and then we sot up such a tremendous laff that Kier heerd us (he was to work out door), and he came in to see what was the matter, so I told him— and good gra- cious how he did roar ! I tell you, he hain't never let me hear the last o' that punkin— I don't know to this day whether'Miss Jinkins knowd I stewed up the hull o' the punkin to once or not — ^but I dew raly bleve if she had a knowd it, 't wouldent a made a speck o' dif- ference about her ,taken the pies, for she was always the very squintessence o' meanness. Land o' liberty ! Its nine o'clock — 1 'd oughf to ben hum an hour ago 3* 58 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEBS. Now, Mr. Crane, I dew hope you'll take care o' yerself in season, andtake my medicine — ^I'U send Kier over ■Vfith it as soon as I get lium — and mind you take a gret spunful niglit and"- mornin' as long as you have any pain in yer chist — ^it 's a wonderf d help to 't. And dew be kerful about egsposin yerself to the cold air — don't go out without rappin' up warm — ^remember the equinoxical storms is a comin' on soon, and them's d:^etful bad for invalidders. O Mr. Crane, 't would be an awful thing if; you should be took away ! I can't bear to think on't — excuse my cryin', Mr. Crane-^I can't help it — I dew feel such an interest in yer family and. — ^I hope you wont think I'm forrard, Mr. Crane — ^but I ,dew— I dew — ^I dew — ^set a great deal — ^by you, Mr. Crane. VI %\i mnm fmu \tx law. "jl/TELISSYI Melissyl Melissy Bedott ! Wliy, what on artli 's come o' the critter I I'm siore she went up chamber a spell ago, to fix up, and I ain't seen her come down sence. You set down, gals, and I'U jest run up and see 'f she 's there. Why, Melissy, what in natux do you mean by keepin' me a yeUin' all night? Did anser, hey ? well, you 'd ought to leave yer door open so's a body could hear you,' and not be obleeged to trot way up here arter you. Come down, right off. Seliay, and Mirandy Crane's down stairs — they want you to go to the Phreenyogi- cal lectut with 'em. Ther par 's a gwine, but he's bizzy and ain't ready yit, and he told 'em not to wait for him, 'cause it might be late afore he could git away. So they come arter uS, 'cause they dident like to go alone. Me gwine ? Why yes, to be sure— why shouldent I? I never heerd a phreenyogical lectur, and I 've got considerable curosty to see what 'tis. I 'U go put on my things. Melissy 'U be down in a minit. She insists on 't I shall go,, tew, and I guess I 60 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. •will— I always thought I should like to hear one o' them kind o' lecturs! (They enter the lecture room.) Less go back side, as fur away ¥rom the stove as we can git, it 's so awful hot hfere. What ! you afeard o' the men folks, Mirandy? I don't care if 'tifi right' amongst the loafers and boys. I never see that man yit, nor boy nother, 't I was afeard on. Gracious sakes alive ! dew look o' them dead Jolkses heads on the table! "What awful looking things they hi\ Made o' plaster, hey ? Well, I 'm glad on 't — ^shan't feel so dizgusted lookin' at 'em as I should if they was rael heads. What a curus lookin' critter that lecturer is, ain't he? HoTtr he has got his hair all scra,ped up ! makes him look kind o' skairt. Name 's Mr. Vanderbump, ain't it ? Wonder if that are wo- man without a bunnit on 's Miss Vanderbump ? What an awful big head she 's got ! Her forrid 's all bare, teW' — ^how it sticks out! Sign of intellect?, Goody grievous ! I wouldent care for that. If I had such a humbly face I 'd keep it kivered up, wouldent you? Dew see ! there comes Sam Pendergrasses wife, with that everlastin' boy o' hern. She takes that young one every where — and he always acts like Sanko. I guess she '11 find it purty warm there, right aside o' the stove. Look, Seliny! there's Cappen Canoot— I '11 bet a cookey he called for me. Well, I 'm glad I 'd come away- afore he 'd got there. I don't want none o' his company. I don't know what he expects to THE WIDOW LOSES HEB BEATT. 61 gain by stickm' round me so. I hain't never gin him . no incurridgement, and don't intend tew. Of ail things ! if there ain't Major Coon's wife, with that flambergasted old red hood o' hern on! Dew, for pity's sake, see how she sails along. And then, there comes the Major grinin' along behind her, as if she was the eend o' the law. I s'pose if ever a man was completely under his wife's thumb. Major Coon is. But they say he thinks she 's clear perfection ; well, it 's well ther 's somebody thinks so. Kier was teUin' a speech old Green made' about her t'other day. Old Green's a musical old critter, you know ; well, he was in Smith's store, and Kier was there, and Major Coon, and a number of other men. The Major wasatalkin' about his wife — ^you know how he 's forever talkin' about her — well, he was a praisin' on her up, tellin' how smart, and keen, and industrous she was, and all that. Byrne by he went out, and says old Green, says he, " The Major does think his wife 's the very dyvil, and so do I, tew." Old Green 'd no bizness to said it, , but when Kier told on 't, I couldent help lafQn'. WeU done ! If there ain't the widder Jinkins ! I wonder if ever any thing goes on in "Wiggletown without that woman's bein' on the spot ! I never did see any body so beset to go as she is. If I was her I would stay to hum jest ojice, so 's to see how 't would seem — would- ent you ? There ! Mr. Vanderbump is agwine to begin ! (The 62 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. lecturer expatiates on the wonderfal science of Phre- nology — gives a history of the various specimens- points out the organs, etc., etc., and just as he concludes this part of the performance, Mr. Crane enters.) Se- liny — I (few begin to feel ruther timmorsome settin' here with all them rowdies behind us — don't you? If we had a gentleman with us I shouldent feel oneasy] should you ? Ain't that yer par over yonder ? — s'pose you go ax him to come and set here long with us— I should feel safer — [Selina goes and returns with her father, who sits down beside the widow.] Grood eve- nin', Mr. Crane I I hope you won't take it amiss, my sendin' for you to come and set over here, for I raly felt as if I should fly away, with all those ere loafers right behind us — 'Was afeard they 'd say something sassy tew us. And then, tew, I was expectin' every minit when old Canoot would be makin' a dive for this quarter — and I know'd he would n't if he see you here. 0, Mr. Crane, you can't imagine how I dew dred that crittet. I couldent bear the idee a' havin' on him go hum with me to-night — don't want t' incur- ridge him. How do you feel this evenin', Mr. Crane? better 'n you did, hey ? well, I dew feel thankful for 't. Took them skoke berries and rum, did you ? WeE, that 's what helped you, depend on't — ^but you mustent git slack about takin' on 't— stick tew it faith- fully. Hadent you better take yer comforter off yer neck till you go out? you won't be so likely THE WIDO-W LOSES HEE BEAU. 63 -to ketcTi cold. You 've got to be kerful — very kerful, Mr. Crane — jou need somebody to see tew you all the fime and mahe you kerfal, the gals is young and thoughtless, and don't think on 't — but that ain' sur- prisin'. I 'm sorry you wa'u't here sooner, Mr. Crane. This 'ere phreenyology 's the curusest thing I ever did see. Did you ever see any thing to beat it — ^how he can tell an individiwal's character so egzactly by the looks o' their heads? don't seem to me as if it could be so — does it to you ? I can't raelize I 've got such a numerous numbei: of organs in my head — can you?^-0, Mr. Crane; what a musical man you be I you '11 make me die a laffin ! Seliny 1 jest hear what your par says. I axed him if he could raelize he had so many organs in his head:— and he said how 't t' other day when he had such a turrible cold in it,' it seemed is if there was organs, and fiddles, and drums, and everything else in't — did you ever? — I wish you 'd a ben here sooner, Mr. Crane, to hear Mr. Van- derbump's exparigate about them heads — ^he gin a de- scription of the people they belonged tew — ^and told how ther characters was accordin' to ther heads. That are big head-^the one that runs up to such a peak on top — ^he says, that 's Scott the celebrated au- thor — I s'pose it 's the one that writ " Scott's Com- mentaries " on the Scripters. He says it 's a wonder- M,intillectible head : no doubt on 't — ^husband sot a gret deal by his Commontaries — ^used to borrer 'em o' 64 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. parson Potter— Mr. Scott must a' ben a smart man to write 'em. That are small curus shaped one on the comer— that 's the head of an underwitted critter that died' in one o' the poor houses— hain't got no intellec- tible organs at all. That are skull that sets biehind Mr. Scott— that 's Old Gibbs the pyrit, that was exte- cuted a number o' years agO' — ^he was a turrible old Tilling. Mr. Vanderbump said that was old Gibb's skull positively hony fidy. That is — ^it 's giuiwine bones — the rest on 'em's made o' plaster. But that are head that sets aside o' the commen1;ater — the one that 's got such a dahglin' under lip ai^d flat forrid and runs out to such a pint behind — that 's old mother O'Killem, the Irish woman that murdered so many folks — she was an awful critter. He said 't wa'n't to be disputed though, that she 'd done a master sight o' good to menkind — he reckoned they ought to raise a moniment \&vf her — 'cause any body that lookt at her head couldent persume no longer to doubt the truth o' phreenyology. He told us to pbsarve the shape on 't perticlerly. You see the forrid 's dretful flat — weU, that shows how 't the intellectible faculties is intirely wantin'. But he dident call it forrid. He called it the hoss frontis. I s'pose that 's 'cause its shaped more like a hoss than a human critter — animal propensi- tudes intirely predominates, you know. That 's what makes it stick out so on the back side — ^that 's the hoss hindis I s'pose — hass frontis and hoss hindis, you THE TVIDOW LOSES HER BEAU. 65 know. I felt oncomonly interested wlien lie was a tellin' about her, 'cause I've read all about her in "Horrid Murders"' — a book I've got — ^it's the inter- estinest book I 've read in all my life. It 's enough to make yer hair stand on eend. I've ben over it I guess half a dozen times — and it seems interestiner every time. Husband got it of a pedlar the year afore he died, and lie used to take an amazin' deal o' com- fort readin' on't. Time and agin IJve knowd that man to lie awake half the night arter he 'd ben readin' in " Horrid Murders." He was narvous, you know — I feel w«nderfully attached to that book 'cause 't was such a favorite o' husband's. Every thijig 't was dear to husband is dear to me — Mr. Crane — that 's one rea- son why I set store by you — he reckoned on you so much. I '11 lend you that book Mr. Crane — ^you '11 be delighted with it. You can jest step in with me when we go hum and I '11 let you take it,^ You '11 be amazinly pleased with the account o' Miss O'Killem. She murdered five husbands and a number of other in- dividiwals, and it tells all how she killed each one on 'em. Some she cut ther throats and some she burnt, and some she chopped to pieces. 'tis awful interest- in'. What did you say, Mr. Crane ? That gal with such red cheeks settin' right by the table, do you mean 0, that is Kesier Winkle, she always contrives to get a seat where she '11 be seen. She takes quite a notion to Kier — ^but I guess she '11 miss a figger there. Eier 66 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPERS. Bedott ain't a feller to be drawd in by a purty face — fve wants sometMng besides tHat—tho' I never thought she was so wonderful handsome, do you — ^her cheeks is red to be sure, but every body can have such a col- or if they want — ^you understand, hey ! tho' tain't for me to say she paints, never standin' there is them that says so. I'm very glad Kier don't, think o' havin' on her — I never did like the "Winkles. Old "Winkle 's a hard old case, and they dew say Kesier 's considerable like him. There ! I guess Miss Pendergrass has got roasted out — she 's a comin' this way with her admyiSble boy — don't see what she wants to crowd in here for— should think she might find a seat somewhere else — ' shouldent you? (Mr. Crane relinquishes his seat to Mrs. Pendergrass and takes the one she left.) Good evenin'. Miss Pendergrass ! found yer sittivation rather warm, hey ? "Well — /make it a pint never to change my seat in meetins and lecturs and such places, when other folks is obleeged to change theirn t' accommer- date me. I think /can afford to be oncomfortable as well as other folks can— hope Mr. Crane won't ketch his death a cold when he goes out, on account o'-bry- lin' and stewin' there by the stove — ^he ain't well at all. don't git np, Miss Pendergrass — dew sit stiU now you 've got here. What a curus consarn this phreenyology is, ain't it ? "What an age of improve- ment we live in ! If any body 'd a told us once THE WIDOW LOSES HER BEAT!. 67 how't in a few year -we'd be able to tell egzacMy what folts was by the shape o' ther heads — ^we woiild- ent a bleeved a word on' t — would we ? You remem- ber readin'^ about old mother O'Kjllem, in that are book I lent you, don't you ? Well, he 's mistaken about one thing relatin' to her. He says she killed the niggar wench by choppin' off her head — ^now 'twa'n't' so^she stomped on her — I remember just how 'twas, don't you? Ain't his wife a turrible hum- bly woman ? Her head Jooks jist like a punkin', and hisen looks like a cheese, don't it? You gwine to hear her lectur to the ladies to-morrer ? Guess /shalT — ^if it 's as interestin' a lectur as hisen, it 'U be worth hearin' — ^though I don't think much o' these here wimmia lecturers, no way — ^the best place for wim- min 's to hum — a mindin' their- own bizness, accordin' to my notions. You remember that one that come round a spell ago, a whalin' away about human rights. I thought she 'd ought to be hoss-whipt and shet up in jail, dident' you? Dew, for pity's sake, look at Major Coon's wife a blowin' herself with her pocket- handkercher ! Did you see her when she come in ? Dident she cut a spludge, tho' ? I never did see such an affected critter as she is in aU my bom days. When you see any body put on such airs as she does, you may be sure they was raised up out o' the dirt. They 're what Kier calls " the mud aristocrasy." She gwine to have a party Thursday evenia' ? How you talk I 68 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPBBS. — liow did you liear ? — ^told you herself, hey ? Is she gwine to have married folks and young folks both ? Well, them 's the right kind o' parties — enough sight pleasanter 'n where they 're aU married folks or all young folks — don't you think so ? "Well, I should think she'd have a party — ^hain't never gin a reglax smasher yifc — and they 're aMe to dew it It 's pleasant to git a body's friends andnabors together — ^has an attendancy to permote sociabihtude. I always thought Miss Coon was a nice woman. Folks has a good dea,l to say about her, cause she was a hired gal when she was young — ^but I never thought 't was any thing against her — Miss Jinkins used to run her down dret- fuUy afore they got to be so intimit — and whenever she used to begin a slanderin' Miss Coon afore me, I always made it a pint to stan' up for her. I 've some- times thought she was ruilier affected — ^hain't you? — but then you know it 's natral for soine folks to be a,ffected — I hope Mr. Crane's settin' with me to-night won't make any talk. I shouldent wonder tho' if it should — ^it don't take nothin' to make a story in Wig- gletown — ^but I couldent git up and go off, you know, when he come and sot down by me — ^t' wouldent aben perlite — s'pose you 're heerd he 'd called t' our house a number o' times ? Hain't ? — well that 's curus — it 's all over town. I wish folks wouldent be gitten' up such reports about me. Mr. Crane 's a fine man — a very fine man — ^but if folks thinks I 've any idee o' THE WIDOW LOSES HEE BEAU. 69 changin' my condition at present, they 're mistaken. I hain't begun to think about no such thing yit. I think it 's a pity if Mr. Crane can't .call t'' our house once in a while, without the hull naborhood bein' in a blaze about it — I eny most hope he won't see me hum to-night — cause that would make folks say 't was * a gone case with us sartin sure. I see Kier come in a spell ago — ^hope he 11 go with me — ^though I s'pose he 's come a purpose to go hum with some o' the gals. There ! the lectur's out — Seliny, wait a minnit till the crowd gits along— I don't want to be squashed to death — look, Miss Pendergrass ! dew see the widder Jinkins a squeezin' up along side o' Mr. Crane— did you eyer ! If that ain't ryih 1 I guess if she thinks she 's a gwine to ketch him she 's mistaken. As true as the world she 's took his arm, and he 's a gwine hum with her ! Well— I '11 bet forty great apples she axed him tew. [The 'young ladies have beaux, and Kier very dutifully escorts his mother home, just as sAe ho2)ed he would.'] VII. TEST in time, Mr. Crane — ^we 've jest this minnit sot down to tea — draw up a cheer and set by — now don't say a word— I shan't take no for an answer. Should a had things ruther different to be sure, if I 'd suspected you, Mr. Crane — but I won't appoUygise-^ appoUigies don't never make nothin' no better, you know. Why, Mehssy, you hain't half sot the table. Where 's the plumsass? thought you was a gwine to git some on 't for tea. I don't see no cake nother. what a kerless gal you be ? Dew bring 'em on quick ■ — and MeHssy, dear, fetch out one o' them are punkin pies and put it a warniin'. How do you take yer tea, Mr. Crane? clear, hey? how much that makes me think o' husband ! he always drunk hisen clear. Now dew make yerself to hum, Mr. Crane — help yerself to things. Do you eat johnny cake ? 'cause if you don't I '11 cut some wheat bread — dew hey ? we 're all gret hands for injin bread here, 'specially Kier. If I don't make a johnny cake every few days, he says to me, says he, " Mar, why don't you make some injin bread? ME. CBANE ABOUT TO PROPOSE. 71 it seems as if we hadent never had none." Melissy, pass tte oheeze. Kier, see 't Mr. Crane lias butter. This ere butter 's a leetle grain frowy. I don't want you to think it 's my make, for 't ain't — Sam Pender- grasses wife (she 'twas Sally Smith) she borrered but- ter o' me 'tother day, and this 'ere 's what she sent back. I wouldent a had it on if I 'd suspected com- pany. How do you feel to-day, M>. Crane ? Dident take no cold last night ? well, I 'm glad on 't, I was raly afeared you would, the lectur room was so turri- ble hot I was eny most roasted, and I wa'n't drest wonderful warm nother, had on my green sUk man- killer — and that ain't very thick. Take a pickle, Mr. Crane — I 'm glad you 're a favorite o' pickles. I think pickles is a delightful beveridge — don't feel as if I could make out a meal without 'em — once in a while I go a visitin' where they don't have none on the table — and when I git hum the fast thing I dew 's to dive for the buttry and git a pickle. But husband couldent eat 'em — ^they was like pizen tew him. Me- lissy never eats 'em nother — ^she ain't no pickle hand. Some gals eats pickles to make 'em grow poor, but Melissy haia't no such foolish notions, I 've brung her up so she shouldent have. Why — 1 've heerd o' gals drinkin' vinegar to thin 'em off and make ther shin delekit. They say Kesier Winkle — 'why Kier, what be you pokin' the sass at Mr. Crane for ? Mehssy jest helped him. I heered Oarline Gallup say how 't 72 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. Kesier 'Winkle — why Kier what dew you mean by oflferin' the cold pork to Mr. Crane? jest as if he wanted pork for his tea ! you see Kier 's ben over to the Holler to-day on bizness with old uncle Dawson, and he come hum with quite an appertite — says to me, says he " Mar, dew set on some cold pork and taters, for I 'm as hungry as a bear." Lemme fill up yer cup, Mr. Crane*. Melissy, bring on that are pie, I guess it 's warm by this time. There I I don't think any body 'd say that punkin •yfas burnt a stewin'. Take another pickle, Mr. Crane. 0, 1 was a gwine to teU what CarHne Gallup said about Kesier Winkle, Carline Grallup was a manty maker — what, Kaer* ruther apt to talk ? well, I know she was — but then she used to be sowin' 't old "Winkle's about half the time, and she know'd purty well what went on there ' — yes — I know sowin' gals is ginerally tattlers. It 's a turrible bad trait in any body — 'specially in them — they hain't no bizness to go round from house to house a telhn' what guz on among folks that finds 'em ther bread and butter. I never incurridge 'em in it. When I have manty makers to work for me — as sure as they undertake to insiniwate any thing aginst any o' my nabors — I tell ye, I shet 'em up quicker-— but I was gwine to ,tell what Carline Gallup said — Carline was a very stiddy gal — she was married about a year ago— married Jo Bennet— Philander Bennet's eon — ^you remember Phil Bennet, don't you, Mr. ME. CRANE ABOUT TO PROPOSE. 73 Crane? lie 't-was killed so sudding over to Gander- field? ThoTzgli come to think, it must a ben arter you went away from liere. He 'd moved over to Ganderfield tlie spring afore lie was killed. "Well, one day in hayin'-tinle he was to work in the hay-field-'— take another piece o' pie, Mr. Orane-^0 dew — ^I insist on't. Well, he was to workrin the hay-field, and he fell off the hay-stack. I s'pose 'twouldent- a killed him if it hadent a ben for feis comin' kersmash onto a jug that was a settin' on the ground aside o' the stack. The spine of his back went right onto the jug and broke it — ^broke his back, I mean — ^not the jug — that wa'n't even cracked — curus! wa'n't it? 'Twas quite a comfort to Miss Bennet in her ?iffliction — 'twas a jug she vallyed— one 't was her mother's. His bein' killed so was a turrible blow to Miss Bennet, the circum,- stances was so aggravatin'. I writ a piece o' poitry on the occasion and sent it tew her; she said 'twas qxiite consolin'. It says : • OGandeififtld! Where is thy sMeld To guard against grim Death? He aims his gnn At old and young, And fires away their breath ! One summer's day Eor to 'tend tew his hay, Mr. Bennet went to the medder— Fell' down from the stack — Broke the spine of his hack, And left a monrnin' widder I 4 74 ' WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEB9, 'T was occasioned hj his landin' On a jug that was standin' Alongside o' the stack o' hay — Some folks say 'twas wAai was m ii Caused the fall of Mr. Bennet, V But ther ala't a word of truth in what they say — 'Twas true, thougli, and I know'd it, but of course I ■wouldent a liad Miss Bennet s'pose I did for all crea- tion. Slie sticks to 't to tliis day 't was naolasses and water 'twas in tlie jug. That's a likely story! Why! 'twas a common ffeport for better 'n a year afore he was kUled, that Phil Bennet was a gittin on- steady, but I never let Miss Bennet know 't I had any such idee. She and me was always quite intimit. She was Lorainy Perce, old Peter Perce's darter ; you know I sot a gret deal by Lorainy. She took it purty hard when her husband was killed; she went into ■ awful deep mournin' — mournin' wasbecomin' tew her, she was a dark complected woman ; and she wa'n't satisfied with wearin' mournin herself, 't wa'n't enoughr, she even put black 'caliker bed-kivers onto her bed. I remember she had a black canton crape gownd all trimmed with crape ; but she dident wear her mourn- in' long, for she got married agin in about three months — married a man by the name o' Higgins — • carpenter and jiner by trade: got acquainted with him over in Varmount, when she was there a visitin' tew her sister's — quite a forehanded man. But I was a sayin' that poitry— where had I got tew! Oil, know : ME. CEANE ABOUT TO PEOPOSE, 75 How folks can slimder Such a man as Philander Bennet 's a mystery to me — Less see — wliat comes next? ; a mystery to me— a mystery to me — Plague on 't ! -what 's the reason I can't remember it? Such a man aa Philander Bennet 'b a mystery to me — Well — ^I dew dedare I 'tis cunis how that 's slipt out o' my mind ; dew lemme see 'f I can't ketch it — How. folks can slander Snoh a man as Philander Bennet 's a mystery to me a mystery to me — to me — • Well — I '11 give it up — ^I 've forgot it — ^that 's a settled pint. It 's queer, tew — it 's the fust time I ever dis- remembered any o' my poitry — ^but it can't be helped — ^mabby it 'H come tew me some time. If it does, I'll write it down and show it to you, Mr. Crane — ^I know you 'd be pleased with it. Take another cup o' tea, Mr. Crane. Why ! you don't mean to say you 've got done supper! ain't you gwine to take nothia' more? no more o' the pie? nor the sass? well, won't you have another pickle? 0, that reminds me — •! was a gwine to tell what Oarline Gallup said about 76 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. Kesier WinMe. Why, Kier seems to me you ain't very perlite to leave tlie table afore any body else does. 0, yes, I remember now, it's singin' -school' night — I s'pose it's time you was off, Melissy^ — ^you want to go tew don't you ? well, I guess Mr. Crane 'U excuse you. We 'U jest see the table back agin the wall — I won't dew the dishes jest now. Me and Me- lissy does the work ourselves, Mr. Crane. I hain't kept no gal sence Melissy was big -enough t' aid and assist me — I think help 's more plague than profit. No woman that has grow'd up darters needent keep help if she 's brung up her gals as she 'd ought tew. Melissy, dear, put on yer cloak, it's a purty tejus evenin'. Kier, you tie up yer throat, you know you was complainin' of a soreness in 't to-day — and you must be kerful to tie it up when you come hum — ^it 's dangerous t' egspose yerself arter singin' — apt to give a body the browncritters — and ' that 's turrible — ^you couldent sing any more if you should git that, you know. ' You 'd better call for Mirandy and Seliny, hadent you? Don't be out late. Now, Mr. Crane, draw up to the stove — ^you must be chilly off there. You gwine to the party to Major Coon's day after to-morrow ? S'pose they 'U give out ther invitations to-morrow. Dew go, Mr. Crane, it 'U chirk you up and dew you good to go out into socierty agin. They say it's to be quite numerous. But I guess ther won't be no dancin' nor highty tighty ME. CEANE ABOUT TO PEOPOSE. 77 dewias. If I thouglit tlier ■would, I shoiildent go my- Belf, for I don't approve on 'em, and couldent counte- nance 'em. WhsLt do you tHnk Sam Pendergrasses wife told me ? she said how 't the widder Jinkins (she 't was Poll Bingham) is a havin' a new gownd made a purpose to wear to the party — one o' these 'ere fiam- bergasted, blazin' plaid consarns — ^with tew awful wide kaiterin flounces round the skirt! Did you ever ! How reedickilous for a woman o' her age, ain't it ? I s'pose she expects t' astonish the natyves, and make her market tew, like enough — ^well, she 's to be pitied. 0, Mr. Crane ! I thought I should go off last night when I see that old critter squeeze up and hook onto you. How turrible imperdent — ^wa'n't it ? But seems to me, I shouldent a felt as if I was obleeged to went hum with her if I 'd a ben in your place, Mr. Crane. She made a purty speech about me to the lectur — ^I 'm a'most ashamed to tell you on 't, Mr. Crane — but it shows what the critter is. Kier said he heered her stretch her neck acrost and whisper to old Crreen, " Mr. Green, don't you think the Widder Be- dott seems to be wonderfully took up with craniology. She 's the brazin-facedest critter t' ever lived — ^it does beat all — I never did see her equill — but it takes all sorts o' folks to make up the world, you know. What did I understand you to say, Mr. Crane? — a few minnit's conversation with me ? — deary me ! Is it any thing pertickeler, Mr. Crane ! 0, dear suz ! how you 78 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. dew flustrate me I not that it 's any tMng oncommon for the gentlemen to ax to have privite conversations with me you. know — ^but then — ^but then — ^bein' you — ■ it 's different — circumstances alters cases you know — what was you a gwine to say, Mr. Crane ? VIII. ir €xm\i ®aIRs ®«t. /^ NO, Mr. Crane, by no manner o' means, 't ain't a minnit tew soon for you to begin to talk about gittin' married agin. I am amazed you should be afeerd I 'd tliink so. See— tow long 's Miss Crane ben dead ? Six months 1 — ^land o' Groshen ! — ^why I Ve know'd a number of individdiwals get married in less time than that. There 's Phil Bennett's widder t' I was a talkin' about jest now — she 't was Louisy Perce —her husband hadent been dead but three months, you know. I don't think it looks well for a woman to be in such a hurry — ^but for a man it 's a different thing — circumstances alters cases, you know. And then, sittiwated as you be, Mr. Crane, it 's a turrible thing for your family to be without a head to superin- tend the domestic consarns and tend to the children — to say nothin' o' yerself, Mr. Crane. You dew need a companion, and no mistake. Six months! Good grievous ! Why Squire Titus dident wait but six weeks arter he buried his fust wife afore he married his second. I thought ther wa'n't no partickler need 80 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. o' Ms hurryin' so, seein' Ms family was all grow'd up. Sucli a critter as he pickt out, tew ! 't was very on- suitable — ^but every man to Ms taste — I hain't no dis- persition to meddle with nobody's consarns. There 's old farmer Dawson, tew — ^his pardner hain't ben dead but ten months. To be sure he ain't married yet — ■ but he would a ben long enough ago if somebody I know on 'd gin him any incurridgement. But tain't for me to speak o' that matter. He 's a clever old critter and as rich as a Jew — ^but — ^lawful sakes ! he 'a old enough to be my father._ And there 's Mr. Smith ■ — Jubiter Smith — ^you know Mm, Mr. Crane — ^his wife (she 't was Aurory Pike) she died last summer, and he 's ben squintin' round among the wimmin ever since, and he may squint for all the good it '11 dew Mm as far as I 'm consarned — tho' Mr. Smith's a re- spectable man — quite young and hain't no family — very well off tew, and quite intellectible — ^but I tell ye what — I 'm purty partickler. O, Mr. Crane ! it 's ten year come Jinniwary since I witnessed the expiration o' my belovid companion ! — an oncommon long time to wait, to be sure — but 't ain't easy to find any body to fill the place o' Hezekier Bedott. I think you 're the most like husband of ary individdiwal I ever see, Mr. Crane. Six months ! murderation ! curus you should be afeard I 'd think 't was tew soon — why I 've know'd — " Mr. Orane. — " Well widder — I 've beefl thinking MR. CEAKB WALKS OUT, 81 about taking another companion — and I thouglit I 'd ask you — " Widow. — " 0, Mr. Crane, egscuse my commotion — it 's so onexpected. Jest hand me that are bottle o' camfire off the mantletry shelf — I 'm ruther faint — dew put a little mite on my handkercher and hold it to my nuz. There — ^that '11 dew — I 'm obleeged tew ye — ^now I 'm ruther more composed— you may per- ceed, Mr. Crane." Mr. Crarie. — "Well widder, I was agoing to ask you whether- — ^whether — " Widow. — " Continner, Mr. Crane— dew — ^I know it 's turrible embarrisin'. I remember when my de- zeased husband made his suppositions to me, he stam- mered and stuttered, and was so awfully flustered it did seem as if he 'd never git it out in the world, and I s'pose it 's ginerally the case, at least it has been with aU them that 's made suppositions to me — ^you see they 're ginerally oncerting about what kind of an an- ger they 're agwine to git, and, it kind o' makes 'em narvo'us. But when an individdiwal has reason to s'pose his attachment 's reciperated, I don't see what need there is o' his bein' flustrated — ^tho' I must say it 's quite embarrassin' to me — ^pray continner." Mr. C. — " Well then, I want to know if you 're will- ing I should have Melissy ?" Widow. — " The dragon I" Mr, C, — " I hain't said any thing to her about it yet 4* 82 'WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. — ^ttouglit the proper way was to get your consent first. I remember wlito I courted Tryplieny we were engaged some time ^eforeTmotlier Kenipe knew any thing about it, and when she found it out she was quite put out because I dident go to'- her first. So when I made up my mind 'about Melissy, thinks me, I '11 dew it right this time and speak to tlie old woman firsts" ' ' Widow. — " Old wtiman, hey! that's a purty name to callme I— amazin' perlite tew I Want Melissy, hey ! Tribbleation ! gracious sakes alive! well, I'll giye it up now ! I always know'd you was a simpleton, Tim Crane, but I mMsffeqnfess I dident think /^ou was quite so Big a fool — want Melissy, dew ye? If that don't beat all! What an everlastia' old calf you must be to s'pose she 'd bok at you. Why, you 're old enough to be her father, and more tew — Melissy ain't only in her twenty-oneth year. What a reedickilous idee for a man o' your age t as gray, as a rat tew ! I wonder what this world is a comin' tew : 't is astonishin' what fools^ old widdiwers will make o' themselves I Have Melissy! Melissy!" ■ Mr. 0. — " Why,*' widder, you surprise me — I 'd no idee of being treated in this way after you 'd ben so polile to me, and made such a fuss over me and the girls." Widow. — " Shet yer head, Tim Crane — ^nun o' yer Bass to me. There 's jer. hat on that are table, and '' Bhet yer head Tim Crane— nun o' yer saas to me, Tliei-e's yer hat, on that are table, and Acre'sthe door, and the sooner you put on one and march out o' t'other the hetterif 11 be for yon." paac 82. ME. ceIne walks ottt. 83 here's tlie door — and the sooner you put on one and marcli out o' t'-other, tlie better it '11 be for you. And I advise you afore you try to git married agin, to go out west and see 'f yer wife's cold — and arter ye 're satisfied on that pint, jest put a little lampblack on yer hair — 't would add to yer appearance ondoubtedly and be of sarvice tew you when you want to flourish round among the gals — and when ye 've got yer hair fixt, jest splinter the spine o' yer back — 't wouldent hurt yer looks a mite — ^you 'd be interely unresistable if you was a leetle grain straiter." Mr. C— « Well, I never !" Widow. — " Hold yer tongue — ^you consarned old coot you — I tell ye there 's yer hat and there 's the door ' — ^be off with yerself, quick metre, or I '11 give ye a hyst with the broomstick." Mr. C— "Gimmenil" Widow, rising. — " Git out, I say — ^I ain't a gwine to Stan here and be insulted under my own ruff — and so —git along — and if ever you darken my door agin, or say a word to Melissy, it 'U be the woss for you — that 's all." Mo: 0. — " Treeraenjous ! "What a buster !" Widow. — " Go 'long — go 'long — go 'long, you ever- lastin' old gum. I won't hear another word (stops her ears). I won't, I won't, I won't." [MciiMr, Orane^ 84 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. {Enter Melissa, accompanied hy Captain Canoot.) " Good evenin', cappen ! "^ell, Melissy, liuni at lastj hej ? why dident you stay till mornin' ? purty tizaess keepin' me up here so late waitia' for you — when I 'm euy naost tired to death iornin' and workin' like a slave all day ; — ought to ben abed an hour ago. Thought ye left me with agreeable feompany, hey? I should like to know what arthly reason you had to s'pose old Crane's was agreeable to me ? I always .dispised the critter — always thought he was a turrible fool — and now I 'm convinced on 't. I 'm completely dizgusted with him — and I let him know it to-night. I gin him a piece o' my mind 't I guess he '11 be apt to remember for a spell. I ruther think he went off with a flea in his ear. Why, cappen — did ye ever hear o' such a piece of audacity in all yer born days ? for Mm — Tim Orane-r-to durst to expire to my hand — ^the widder o' deacon Bedott! jest as if I'd condescen to look at him — the old numskull ! He don't know B from broomstick ; but if he 'd a stayed much longer I 'd a teacht him the difference, I guess. He 's got his walkin' ticJcet now — ^I hope he '11 lemme alone in futur. And where 's Kier ? Gun home with the Cranes, hey ! well, I guess it 's the last time. And now, Melissy Bedott, you ain't to have nothin' more to dew with them gals — d 'ye hear? you ain't to sociate with 'em at all arter this — 't would only be incurridgin th' old man to come a pesterin me agin — ^and I won't have hin* MB. CRANE WALKS OUT, §5 round — d'ye hear? Don't be in a hurry, cappen — and don't be alarmed at my gitten' in such passion about old Crane's persumption. Mabby you think 't was onfeelin in me to use him so — and I don't say but what 't was ruther, but then he 's so awful dizagree- able tew me, you know — 't ain't every body 1 'd treat in such a way. "Well, if you must go, good evenin' 1 Give my love to Hanner when you write agin — dew call frequently, "Cappen Canoot, dew." ' IX. 1% /TBLISSY ! ain't that old unole Dawson a drivm'- up to Smitli's store ? Well; I thought so — ^I 've seen him round considrable lately — ^ben suspectin' every day he 'd be callin' in here — ^hain't called senoe ^ his wife died. I met Mm tother day and axed him why he dident come — said he 'd ben very bizzy, but he 'd try to call afore long-^so I guess he 's comia' to-^ day, he 's so spruced up. He 's got on a new over- 6oat, hain't he? that 's the reason I dident know him at fust. Melissy ! -spring tew and finish pleetin' on that are cap border, I want to put it on, this ere 's so dirty I should be ashaajied to .be ketcht in 't. I want ' you should set the border furder back, and the bows a leetle higher up than they be on this ere, so 's my face won't look so narrer, it makes a body look old to have such a phizmahogany. Here 's the ribbin ; come, be spry, I expect every minnit to see him come out o' the store. You' needent sow it wonderful tight, jest pin them bows on, don 't stop to sow em — that '11 dew. Gruesa I 'U put on my ally packer gownd, wouldent ye ? it 'a THE WIDOW "SETS HER CAP." 87 more becomin' than ary other gownd I Ve got. Hold your tongue, Melissy — what bizness is it o' youm if I dew sef my cap for old Dawson ? He 's rich as mU'd and hain't a chick nor child to leaye his fortin' tew. TJnivarsaler ? I don't bleve a word on.'t — ^he goes to meetin' quite stiddy lately. I don't care if he is a Universaler nother, there 's good folks in all denomi- nations — pin down my collar quick — he 's enough sight better 'n old Crane is with all his sanctimony. Don't you think it 's an improvement settin' the bows higher up? I tell you what, Melissy -Bedott, I should like a?: chance, to ride over the heads o'.sbme o' these ere 'folks that feel so mighty grand, shouldent you? joMshouldent, hey ? Well, I spoze ye wouldent — you 'd jest as levejae put down and trod upon as not — you 're jest like yer father, he hadent no more sperrit than an old goose, and you hain't nother. For' my part I 'd like to be able to show Miss Coon 't I 'm as good as she is and a leetle grain better, neverstandin' she dident invite me to her party, the niiserable, low-lifed critter! shall always be glad I dident let you go — spoze I couldent pervented Kier's gwine if he 'd a felt able— shall always be glad he had such a turrible cold he couldent go. There comes Mr. Dawson ! he 's gittin' in his cutter. Why! as true as natur he's druv up street I wonder where he 's gwine I You jest go to the door and see where he stops — ^folks '11 talk if I go, every body 's a watchin' me. Well, where did bo ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. he go ? To widder Jinkinses ! I land o' liberty ! well I ^U give it up now I I '11 bet a cookey she called him in, 'twold be egzackly like her. Well, seein' I'm drest, I '11 just run in to Sam Pendergrasses. I want to see Miss Pendergrass — ^I'll take my knittin', for mabby I sbant be hum to tea. If I should stay there to tea don't you and Kier be g, lettin' into the plum sass and cake, as you did 't other day when I went to Deacon Knipe's. Git some o' them are cold beans in the cubberd, and the bread 't was left at dinner, there's enough on't, don't cut no more — je won't want no butter if ye have beans. And if Mr. Dawson calls, you come arter me, d 'ye hear ? . (On her return in the evening she finds Mr. Jupiter Smith visiting MeHssa.) How dew you do, Mr. Smith ? Ben here long ? I 'm sorry I was out when you came — glad you stayed 'till I got back tho'. When did you git home from Var- mount? To-day, hey! How did you find your parents? So you mist that are all-killin' genteel party last night ? Well, I guess you dident lose much • — 't ain't no credit to nobody to go to such a place. Sam Pendergrasses wife 's ben a teflin' me about it, she was there, and of all the strains ever I heerd on I should think that was the cap sheef. Why wa'n't I there ? 'cause I don't sooiate with such company as the Goons. I wa'n't invited, to be sure — she 'd as soon a thought of invitin' the governor as me. I should- ent a went a step if had a ben invited — ^why, Miss THE -WIDOW "SETS HEB CAP." 89 Coon used to be a hired gal in her young days! and now sence she 's got a hyst in the world, she tries to cut a spludge and make folks think she 's a lady — but any body that 's used to good company, can see in a minnit that she 's no lady. They say the way she performed last night was a caution. She had a gxet long ostridge feather in her head, and she paraded round like a grannydear — ^bowin' and smihn' and curchyin' with as much dignitude as if she 'd a ben the queen o' Sheby — ^wa'n't it laffable ? If I 'd a ben there I know I should a snorted right out in her face. Old •Crane was there tew, pokin' round among the gals — mighty partickler to Kesier Wiakle, they say. Did you ever ! and his wife hain't ben dead but six months ! ain't it awful ? Well, I 'm glad I 've got rid o' the critter at last. He 's ben stickin' round me ever- since he come here — and it did seem as if I should go crazy, he 's so terrible disagreeable — ^but I gin him a check on the tow-path 't other day — and I ruther guess he '11 lemme alone arter this. Kesier Winkle ! ain't it reedickelous ? I don't see what he could fancy about her, do you ? ther ain't nothin' of her but her purty face — and /never thought that was so awful handsome as some folks does. Her red cheeks is her only beauty, and they dew say them ain't natral. But I don't want to hurt Kesiah Winkle — she 's an un- offensive, simple critter — I shall pity her if she gits Tim Crane, he 's the meanest of all created critters. 90 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. I knowed him in his yotmg days. I mean when he ■was ruther young, and I was very young indeed. I knowed him always till he went to the "West — and I 'd as soon think o' havin' the " old boy" as him. He don't know nothin' only how to make money — yes he does to — ^he knows how to Tceep it. Of all stingy mortals he 's the stingiest. Husband dispised him — ^used to say, Tim Crane was so tight he fairly begrudged the air he breathed — and it 's a fact. Massy tew me ! it does seem onaccountable how any body can be so beset to get married as to take up with him — don't it ? He 's the consarndest old gump tew 't ever was — no'intellectibihty at all. I always knowed he was a dretful ninny, but I dident think he was so awful silly as he is till 't other night at the Phreeny- ogical lectuT. He come and sot down by me ; I was turribly provoked to have him a stickin' round me in public so, but I couldent help it, you know; I was purty haughty tew him, I tell ye. Well, if you '11 believe it — as true as I set here — ^when the lecterer was tellin' about the organs in folkses heads, old Crane thought he meant them are music organs — ^it 's a fact ; 1 never was so dizgusted in my life. Well, he ain't worth talkin' about, and I make it a pint never to talk abqut nobody. I eny most wish you had a ben to that party, Mr. Smith ; it must a ben quite entertainin' to see the dewins. They say the widder • Jickins made herself perfectly redicklous. She was drest THE -WIDOW "SETS HEE CAP." 91 off like a yoimg gal — ^false ctuls on and artifisliel flowers in her cap. ■ I think that 's very unproper for a woman o'her age-— Avhy, I never wear 'em, and I ain't nowhere nigh so old as she is — r't is amazin ! and they say she cut round and hollered and laffed and tried to be wonderful interestin'. They say she 's a tryin' to draw in old uncle I>awson; wouldent it be awful if she should coax him up to marry her? but if she should, he 's a bigger fool than I took him for, 'that 's all — what say ? is gwine to marry her ? why Jubiter Smith I I don't bleve it — if 't was so Sam- Pender- grasses wife would a knowed it — she knows every thing that guz on in the place — though she and Miss Jinkins ain't very friendly ; but I know 't ain't so — who told you, Mr. Smith? Miss Jinkins herself ! I land o' Nod ! I Next week ! ! you don't ! ! well— I '11 give it up now ! The widder Jinkins a gwine to be married tb old, .uncle Dawson ! If that ain't the last thing I ever heerd on ! What is this world a comin' . tew ? How redicklous ! well, she 's a mean, good-for- nothin', underhanded critter to go to work a settin' her traps for that poor old man, and, conduce him to make such a flumbergasted fool o' himself in his old age! What a dog's life she '11 lead him tew! Why she 's the awfullest tempered critter 't ever was made. I 've knowed PoU Bingham from a gal, and I don't bleve Bill Jinkins would a turned out such a misrable shack if he 'd a had decent woman for a wife, PoU 92 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. Jinldns and old Dawson ? tribbilation ! ! Well,- slie 'a been ravin' distracted to git married ever since lier husband died, and arter all, she couldent git nobody but that poor decripjjed, superanimated old feller. If she wa'n't dretful anxious to git marrid she wouldent take Mm. Melissy, dear, go down suller and git some apples — some o' the seek-no-furders — don't faU down and break yer neck, darlin'.' Old Dawson ! why he 's a Univarsaler ! ain't it awfixf ? I 'd as soon think o' havin' a Hoppintot. If that had a ben the only thing ther was aginst him, I shouldent a had him. I never gin him no incurridgement — -just as if I were a gwine to take up with Tom, Dick, and Harry, arter bein' the wife o' such a man as Deacon Bedott! He's an amazin' ignorant old coot, tew — 'tis surprisin' how little he knows 1 Git some knives and plates, now, Melissy---help yourself to apples, Mr. Smith. I can tell you a circumstance that actilly-tc^k place once— that '11 show you what an ignorant oMneathen he is. His wife usfed to belong to Parson Potter's church, and once in a while he used to come to meetin' with her, and he always u,sed to go to sleep as soon as the sarmon begun, and sleep till meetin' was out — ^weU, one Sabberday old Dawson was to meetin' — and Par- son Potter preached some doctrinal pint — ^I don't now remember what was the theme of his subject — ^but ' any way, arter he 'd gin out his text, says he, "Brothrin — the subject under consideration this THE •WIDOW "SETS HEB CAP." 93 o' the biggest importance, and I 've gin it my unmitigated attention for a number o' year ■ — ^but I 'm sorry to say, tlie commontaters don't agree with me." Well, old Dawson beerd that — and then he dropt asleep as usual. The next arternoon Miss Potter had company — ^what 's called a ^' deacon party," you knoW' — that is-^all the deacons and ther wives. There was Deacon Kenipe and his wife. Deacon Crosby and hia wife, Deacon "Whipple and his wife, and Deacon Bedott and me. Well, as we was all a settin' there about the middle o' the arternoon, who should come in but old uncle Dawson, luggin' a mortal gret sass- basket — " Well Parson," says he, "" you said yesterday in meetin' how 't the common iaters dident agree with ye — so I 've fetched you some oncommon ones — the very best that ever was growd — ^for I reckoned 't was tew bad you should be obleeged to live on common, poor taters, wliile I had such a bundance o' good uns. It 's a kind I fe"tcht froip Connecticut — where I used to live — ^nobody round here hain't got nun like em. They call em " Harrington blue-skins" — you needent be afeared but what they 'H agree with ye — ye might eat em all day, and not feel a grain the woss for 't." Now, Mr. Smith, that 's a fact — I was knowin' to 't • — ^Parson Potter, he thankt him over and over agin— - and we all contrijed to keep our faces strait tiH he 'd got out o' the house — and then, what a roarin' ther was I Parson Potter told us never to mention it in 94 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. creation — cause tte old maij meant well — -but some how or other it got out — such things wiU, you know. But, as Deacon Whipple remarked— it 's lamentyble that any body in this firee and inhghtened kintry should be so blind and ignorant. But he 's" good enqugh for widder Jinkins any day — don't you say so? Well, what is Wiggletown a comin' tew? PoU Jinkins and old uncle Dawson 1 it 's the lafifablest thing I 've heerd on this many a* day I hej he, he ! I shall go off! ! The last news that I had from Wiggletown, was that- Melissa is soon to be married to the worthy Mr. Jupiter Smith ; and that Kier is engaged to Selina Craner It is supposed that the widow never would have given her consent to these matches, had it not been for the interference of Mr. and Mrs. Magwire, who have at last induced her to give up her opposi- tion to the wishes of her children. She, however, con- tinues to growl about it occasionally, and has become perfectly " dizgusted" with Wiggletown and every body in it, declaring, that " it ain't what it used to be — ^all run down — not fit for respectable people to live in — and she don't mean to have nothin' to dew with no- body in a place where every body 's atryin' to iajuxe her, and put her down — and so." X. npHB Widow Bedott taving resolved to leave Wiggletown, makes her ferewell visit to her friend Mrs. Higgins, of Granderfield. " Did ye know I was a gwine to quit "Wiggletown ? dident hay ? Well I be — I lay out to go next week. I am gwine to Scrabble Hill, to sister Magwixe's, to spend the winter, at least — and if I like it purty well, mabby I shall conclude to make it my native place and never come back to Wiggletown — without 't is jest a visitin'. Its turrible lonesome to be keepin' house all alone as I be now since Kier and Melissy was married and. dewin' for themselves. Ary one on 'em would be glad _to have me live with 'em —but some how I don't like the idee. Melissy's got a nice man for a husband. Jubiter Smith 's a very nice man — and she 's very pleasantly sitiwated. But I'd ruther not live with 'em — shouldent feel inde- pendent, ye know. And as for livin' to Eaer's — ^I guess it '11 be after this, anj how, afore I dew that. Seliny's well enough, fur as I know. I hain't nothin' 96 WIDOW BEtoOTT PAPEES. against Seliny — only I don't like that 'stock. I ■was opposed to Kier's marryin-' into tHat family — but lie ■was so determined on 't I gin up nay opposition and tried to make tlie best on 't. But I can 't be intirely reconciled to 't, dew wliat I -will, It 's werry onpleas- ant to be connected -with tliat tribe, any way. Especi- ally the old man — I never could bear Tim Crane — he's so mortal mean. Dident know it? well, then, you don't know him as well as I dew. Why^ I've been acquainted with him ever sence he was quite a yotmg man, and I can testify 't he was always as tight as a drum-head. How else did he make his money, pray ? he never could a did it by his imts, for he hain't none^ Yes — I always knowd Tim Crane — so did niy poor husband — he used to have dealins with him, and he said, that of all born skin-flints 't ever he had to do with, Tim' Crane was the biggest. Yes — I always dispised the critter — and then to think that any body should say 't I was a tryin' to ketch him ! — 't is scan- dicilous ! Hain't heerd nobody say so ? Well thir is such a story all round Wiggletown — and I guess I know who started it, tew — and that was old Daw- son's wife — she 't was widder Jinkins — she 's always a runnin' me down — and she feels oncommon ryled up against me now cause she knows the old man was arter me 'fore he took her. I know she started the story, cause Sam Pendegrasses wife told me on 't — and she said she heerd it from Minervy Hawley — aiid RESOLVES TO LEAVE WIGGLETOWIT, 97 Minervy Hawjey teerd it from Major Coon's wife — atid Major Coon's wife and Miss Dawson is wonderfiil intimit — and I s'pose Miss Dawson told Miss Coon. But wliat she says ain't worth mindin'. 'T is curus 't nobody should pay any attention to 't. Me set my cap for old Crane ! Gracious ! I never could bear the sight of him. I tell you, I was glad enough when he got married to Kesier "Winkle — ^though H was a most reedicilous piece o' business, wa'n't it ? To think o' his marryin' that foolish flirt of a gal 1 young enough to be his darter, tew 1 But I rejoiced from the bottom o' my heart when it took place — ^for, thinks me, folks '11 stop ther gab about him and me now. You see, he 'd been stickin' round me ever sence he came back here — and ther was. considerable talk that him and me was a gwine to make a match— and 't was very dis- tressin' to me to be the subjick of such a report. I done aU in my power to give him to understand that his attentions was dizagreeable tew me — but somehow another he wouldent take the hint. I dident want him to offer himself tew me, you know. I always make it a pint when I see 't an individdiwal's pleased with me and I don't recipperate ther sentiments — ^I say, I always make it a pint to disencourage 'em all I can — for it hurts my feehns amazinly to be obleeged to refuse a man ; it 's so mortifyin' tew 'em, ye know, to be told they ain't ■wanted. I always git rid on 't when I can — and I tried tew in this case — ^but the old 5 98 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. coot Tras so awful numbheaded I couldent beat any thin' into bim. He bung on like the tootbacbe — ^till I got out of all patience, Atlast be come t' our bouse one evening — (Now Miss Higgins, I bope you won't never mention tbis to nobody. I sbonldent a told you on 't — I make it a pint never to teU o' sucb tbiags. Only seein' we was a speakin' o' tbe story beia' round tbat I sot my cap for bim, I tbougbt I 'd let you know bow mucb foundation tber was for 't — ^but don't let it git no furder for pity's sake. I don't wisb Mr. Crane no barm). But I was a gwine to tell ye — ^He took tbe opportunity one nigbt wben I was alone, to come over t' our bouse. I ginerally contrived to keep Melissy or Keir in tbe room wben be came tbere ; and I 'spose be' d noticed it, for be come over a singin' scbool evenin', wben be knowd they 'd be gone. I tell ye I was mad wben I see tbe critter come in. I treated bim as cool as a cowcumber ; but neverstandin' all tbat, if you '11 bleve it, be up and popped tbe ques- tion 1 At first I answered bim as civil as I could, and begged to be egscused ; but be wouldent take no for an answer ; and so I was obleeged to be puity basb witb bim and told bim I dident want notbing to dew witb bim, and wisbed be 'd reitterate and leave me alone and never trouble me no more. And will ye bleve it I tbe critter continued to bang on tUl I was necessiated to order bim out o' tbe bouse and teU bim if ever be darkened my doore agin be 'd ketob it. • So EES0LVE3 TO LEAVE WIGGLETOWN. 99 at last I got rid of him ; and that 's the upshot o' the matter betwixt old Crane and me. 'T was about tew months afore he was married to Kesier Winkle — and disappinted me, as they say. Disappinted! it looks like bein' disappinted, don't it? Its awful provokin' to be talked about as I be, ain't it? But I 've always ben the subjick o' slander ever since I lived here, and that 's since I was quite a gal. What a turrible place for talkin', Wiggletown is, though ! a regular slander mill. It's a great deal woss than it used be — and 'twas always bad enough. I'm pierfectly dizgusted with the place, expecially sence them stories about old Crane and me. It makes me outrageous to be lied about so by such folks as old Dawson's wife and Miss Major Coon. Miss Coon — she don't like me cause I hain't never knuckled tew her. You know she thinks she 's a great character sence she married Major Coon. But I can tell her " I ain't so fond o' pork as to eat hog- yokes I" Miss Pendergrass says, I hadent ought to mind none o' the stories folks teHs — and I don't mean tew. But then it 's made me clear sick and tired o' Wiggletown. I 'm completely dizgusted with it, and don't mean to live there no longer if I can help it. I 've ben some time considerin' what 's best to dew, and I 've made up my mind to g6 to Scrabble HiU to spend the winter with sister Magwire. I was there and stayed a fortnight about two year ago — ^had a very pleasant visit. At fiist I tbought quite stroag o' v^^ 100 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. in' my brother, -Ohristoplier Columbus Poole, away in Varmount — never was there but once, and that was fore husband died. But I 've giv 't up on account o' the family bein' Baptists. I can't stan the Baptists no way ; and if I went there I should have to go to the Baptist meetin' and that would be a turrible cross tew me ; so I 've concluded to go to Scrabble Hill for a spell. Sister !Magwire's a fine woman, though she ain't very intellectible. I always sot a great deal by her. No doubt she '11 be wonderful glad to have me come. She must be considerable lonesome now. Her only son 's gone off to study doctrin ; and she 's alone quite a good deal. Her husband carries on the shoe- makin' bisness quite extensive ;■ and he 's to his shop the heft o' the time. To speak the truth, I ain't sorry her son 's gone, for he ain't no favoryte o' mine. He 's growed up to be rather a dizagreeable young man — always pokin' fun at every body.. He takes after his father in that jespect. Brother Magwire 's qijite a teaze, though he knows better 'n to hurt folk's feelins as Jeff does. I think I shall enjoy myself pretty well at Scrabble Hill. The society is quite refined there, and that suits me, ye know. I feel out o' place in Wiggletown; ther ain't no refinement there at aU. What little there used to be 's aU run out. The in- habiters now 's a perfect set o' Goffe and Eandals. I'm thoroughly dizgusted with the hull town and every body in it, exceptin' Kier and Melissy, and Sam RESOLVES TO LBATE -WIGGLETO-WN. 101 Pendergrasses wife. If 't wa'n't that they live there, Wiggletown -might go to destructioii for all I 'd care. LETTER PROM JEFFERSON MAGTJIRE TO HIS COUSIN", MRS. JASPER DOOLITTLB. COONTHLE, Oct. 27, 1847. Dear Cotrsiu- Nanct: What gloomy, miserable weather this is ! But I suppose that your domestic cares and your good hus- band, occupy so much of your attention, that you 've hardly time to growl about the weather. I assure you I feel forlorn enough to-day. Probably more so, for having just returned from- a visit of a week at father's ; and home is so much pleasanter to me than any other place, that I am always discontented for a while after coming away. I suppose you would like to know what the good folks at Scrabble Hill are doing ; so I '11 tell you as far as I know. Fiather and mother get on about after the old sort, and there seems to be no great change among the other inhabitants. Sam Baily is paying attention to Katy Carey, and Pardon Hittibone and Maria Louisa "Wilson are to be married next month. Charity Grimes and Sally Huglfe are as old and as dis- agreeable as ever, if not a leeth more so, and full as anxious to dispose of themselves as ever. Old Elder 102 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. Sniffles, the Baptist minister, lost his wife about two months ago, and his personal appearance has greatly improved since that afflictive event (no uncommon thing as respects widowers, I believe). The Footes have sold out, and gone to "Wisconsin, and — ^well I believej you have now all the village news, excepting one piece of information, and that, as it is the most im- portant, I have reserved till the last. A distinguished stranger arrived at Scrabble Hill some two weeks since. "Who do you guess it is? Why, no less a personage than the "Widow Bedott, interesting relict of Deacon Hezekiah Bedott. She has actually in- flicted herself upon father's folks for the whole winter. What a time they '11 have of it, won't they ? , Mother is so well disposed, that she tries to put up with it cheerfully ; but nevertheless, it is pretty evident that she looks upon Aunt Bedott as a prodigious bore. She had been there but two or three days when I went home, and she did not appear overjoyed to see me. For some reason or other she does n't take a particular fancy to me. Mother says it 's because I teaze her sometimes. But there is something so de- cidedly rich about Aunt Sniy, that I can not for my life help having a little fun at her expense occasionally. On Sunday morning I said to her, when mother was n't by, "Well, aunty, where do you go to meeting to- day ?" " Where do I go to njeetin' I" said she " what a question I why, where should I go but to my own EESOIiVES TO LEAVE WIGGLETOWir. 103 meetin' ?" " Oh," said I, " I thouglit perhaps you 'd like to hear Elder Sniffles, he 's such an interesting preacher," " "What !" said she, " me go to the Baptist meetin' ! I hope you ain't in amest, Jeff; why I 'd as soon go to the theater as go there. I hare a sufferin' contempt for the Baptists. They think nobody can't git to heaven without hein' dipped, dippin' 's a savin' audience with them. Why, come to think, I remem- ber that Elder Sniffles. When I was here afore, yer mother and me was in to Mr. Hugle's one evenin' — they 're Baptists ain't they? and Elder Sniffles and his wife come in there to call. If my memory serves me, he 's ruther a tall, scrawny man, with eyes that looks like a couple o' peeled onions, and kind o' squintin' tew, and seems to me he hadn't no hair hardly." " !" said I " you 'd soarcefy know him now, he 's got a wig and wears spectacles, which im- proves his appearance Vastly." " Well, I should think it needed improvin'," said she. " By the way, aunty," said I, " did you know that Mrs. Sniffles was dead?" "You don't say so!" said she. " Yes," said I : " she died only a few weeks ago. I feel sorry for the elder — ^he must be so lonesome." " So do I," said she, with a sigh. " It 's a dredfol thing to lose a companion, and I s'pose the Baptists feel it as much as anybody." "Undoubtedly," said I ; " Elder Sniffles seems deeply afflicted — his sermons, they say have been more interesting than ever, since 104 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPBES. his loss : something mournfully solemn about them." —so I went on for some time, dilating upon the elder's eloquence and talents, and loneliness and all that. I as- sure you I talked pretty fast, for fear mother 'd eome in before I could say all I wanted to— and I was afraid she'd throw all the fat ia the fire. At length aunt .SUly said that I 'd raised her curiosity to such a pitch that she really felt quite a desire to hear the elder preacht" — ^she had a good notion to go to the Baptist meet- ing for once. Of course I offered my services as es- cort. Shortly after mother came in, and was quite sur- prised when Aunt Bedott announced her intention of : going to the Baptist meeting; " What 'syour notion ?" said toother. "Oh I" said aunty, "Jeff's excited my curiosity so much about Elder SnifSes, that I feel as if I 'd like to gb and hear him preach." Mother looked at me for an explanation^ — so I thought my best course was to own up — ^for I knew that mother would n't ex- pose me, and tell Aunt Bedott that I was hoaxing, her, as it would serve to increase her antipathy to me,, which mother was anxious to do away. Therefore, I remarked that I 'd been telling aunt Sniy what an elo- quent man elder Sniffles was. Mother said nothing then, but as soon as we were alone, she took me to task roundly. However I carried the point, and aunty and I went off to the Baptist meeting. We had a seat very- near the pulpit. As usual, the elder whaled away through his nose — ^thumped the desk, and went over RESOLVES TO LEAVE WIGGLETOWN. 105 and over again wifh the same thing— using a little dif- ferent words each time, -without ever making the most remote approach to any thing like the shadow of an idea. But it would have done you good to see with what devout and earnest attention Aunt Bedott regard- ed him all the time. Once she was deeply affected, and sobbed in a manner that attracted universal atten- tion. It was on his makings the very original observa- tion that " this was a changing world, and we couldn't calculate with any degree of certainty upon any thing !" When we were going home, Aunt Bedott said — " Well, Jefferson you was right — elder Sniffles is a very interesting preacher — ^very, indeed. I nevgr was more edified in my life than I 've been this morn- in'. He ain't so bad hohm\ nother, as I was thinkiu' he was : that ere wig makes him look ten year young- er — a, body never 'd think o' such a thing as its bein' a wig — ^it 's.so natral. And them specs, too : they 're an improvement on account o' kind o' hidin' the pe- cooliarities of his eyes. I don't know as I should a' took him for the same indiwiddiwal. But then his sarmon! — Oh, Jefferson, that was what I call a sar- mon in arnest ! I begin to think 't ain't right to be so prejudiced against other denominations. I should like to be introduced to Elder Snifles, and hear him convarse." Wouldn't it be rich, Nancy, to be an in- visible listener to the conversation ? The next day I came away. I shall be quite curious to know whether s* 106 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. Aunt Bedott continues in her liberal frame of mind — but I sha'n't dare to ask mother a word about it when I write — so I must remain in ignorance until I go home again at Thanksgiving. But I'm writing a tremendously long letter, so I '11 just stop where I am. Eemember me to cousin Jasper, and believe me your affectionate cousin. XL ". /^ OOD mornm' marm 1 can I trade any -with ye ^ to-day?" " Land o' liberty ! I want to knew if tliat 's you, Jabe Clark?" • " 'T ain't nobody else— but raly you Ve got tbe advantage o' me." " Hev bay ! well I guess it 's tbe fust time any body got tbe advantage o' ye — -do ye remember tbem sboes ye sold me in Wiggletown ?" "Jingo! I'll be darned if 't ain't tbeWidder Be- dott !' wby — ^ye look younger and bandsomer 'n ever — " " It took tbem sboes to stir up yer memory — ^I al- ways tbo't I 'd like to bev a recknin' witb ye about comin' sucb a trick on me — " "ButWidder— " "None o' yer buts — dident ye tell me tbey was fustrate leatber — and wortb ten sbiUiii' every cent on 't — ^but seein' 't was me I mout bev 'em for a dol- lar, say I and dident tbey bust out at tbe sides and 108 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES, run down at the heels and split on the instep in less than a week's time — and dident ye hnow they would serve me so when ye sold' 'em to me — say ?" " But Widder ye know—" "Yes I hnow — I know 't want the fust time you'd cheated me — ^but I ruther guess 't was the last time — ■ and I ain't the only one that 's made up the? mind^ not to hev no more deal with ye — Sam Pendergrasses wifp says 't if ever you darken her doors again you %.- ketch it." •' Well, Miss Bedott, to teU ye the plain tfuth, them shoes hev laid heavy on my ^hscience for some time back — I dew confess with compunction that I had some shortcQmin's in those days — ^I did use to git the better o' my customers sometimes in a' bargin — ^I 've felt quite exercised about it lately. Ye see, Widder, I warn't actiwated by religious principles then, that was the difiS.culty." " Do ye mean to insiniwate that ye 've met with a change ?" " I think I may confidentially say I hev." " How long sence ?" ; " Wal, about a year and a half. I experienced re- ligion over in Varmount, at one o' brother Armstrong's protracted meetin's. I tell ye, Widder, them special efforts is great things — ever sence I come out I 've felt like a new critter." "Well, I hope you've acted like, one, and restored TBADBS WITH A PEDDLEE. 109 foux-fold, as scripter commands, to tliem you Ve got the better of. If ye did I guess yer pockets was cleaned out amazin' quick." " I 'm firee to say, I hey made restitution as fur as I' ■was able." " Well, tlien, ye 'd better hand over that dollar I paid for them shoes — or at least ,sis shillin' on 't, they wa'n't worth over twenty-five cents at the fuidest." ""Wal, I '11 tell ye Widder how I ginerally dew in such cases. I make a practice 6' lettin' on 'em trade it out (he begins to open his boxes), I 've got a lot o' goods that '11 make yer, eyes water, I guess. I 'make it a pint o' carryin' a finer stock than ary other travel- in' merchant in this section." "Ye needent undew 'em — I hain't no notion o' tradin'." "But 't won't cost nothih' to jest look at 'em, ye know — there, them pocket handkerchers is superior to any thing ye 'U find this side o' New York.'' " Wonderful thin though." "Sheer, ye mean, that's what they call sheer, a very desirable quality in linning cambrick. I tell ye Widder there ain't no such handkerchers in Scrabble HUl." "I'll bet a cent they're half cotton." " Half cotton I jingo I they ain't half cotton — I 'U Btake my repertation on 't — ^I mean my present reper- tation." 110 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. "What dew ye ax for 'em?" " Wal, them handkerchers had orto fetch twelve shillin' apiece. I never sold none for less, but bein' as I dident dew exactly the fair thing about the shoes, if ye '11 take a couple I '11 strike off tew shillin', and let ye hev 'em for tew dollars and seventy-five cents." " Land o' liberty ! ye scare me, Jabe I I 'm wantin' some nice handkerchers wonderfully /esi now, hnt dear me ! I 'd go without to the eend o' my days afore I 'd pay such a price for 'em." " Wal, then, ,say tew doUairs fifty cents, I 'm wilhn' to let 'em go for that considerin' the shoes." "Twenty shillin' ! it 's awful high, I won't give it." " Say eighteen shiUin' then, nobody could ax less than that, I 'm sure." "Eighteen shniiu'l it's tew much — I can't afford it." " Tew dollars then — take 'em for tew dollars — ^it 's the same as givin' on 'em away. I tell ye Widder, ye wouldent git such a chance if 't wa'n't for my feelin's in relation to them shoes. I told ye they was worth twelve shUlia' apiece, and now I offer 'em tew ye for tew dollars a pair, one dollar struck off, that 's all ye paid for the shoes." " I never gi'n so much for handkerchers in all my born days, can't ye take no less ?" " Not a cent Widder, not a cent." TRADES WITH A PEDDLEE. HI " Well, then, I don't feel as if I could afford to take 'em." " And so I s'pose I may as well put 'em up agin — yrai., I 'm sorry, not that it would be any objict to me to let them go so cheap, only I thought I 'd like to set my mind at rest about the matter o' the shoes. I 've offered to make it up and you 've refused to have it made up, so the feult is youm, not mine, my conscience is clear; if folks will persirt in atannin' in Ijieir own light I can't help it, that 's aU." (He re- places them in the box.) "Lemme jest look at 'em once more, Jabe — ^these is purty — can^t take no less than tew dollars?" " Not a red cent less ; and I teU ye agin it 's the same as givin' on 'em away at that." "Sure they ain't half cotton ?" " Jest as sure as I be that my name 's Jabez Clark." "Well, then, I guess I shall hey to tales 'em." "I 'm glad on 't for your sake — as I said afore, t' ain't no objict to me. I 've got a piece o' sUk I want to show ye, Miss Bedott, a very desirable article for a weddin' dress." "Lawful sakes! I hope ye don't think /want such a thing." "Wal, folks tells singular stories. I heerd some- thing down here." " shaw I 't won't dew to believe aU ye hear." 112 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. " I sold Elder SnifSes a blapk satting stock and a bnzzoin pin yesterday ; s'pose he wanted 'em for a partichlar occasion!'' " Git, oat Jabel what sort of a buzzom pin was it ?" " Wal, 't wks a very desirable pin ; topiz sot in gold. I sold it tew him for a'most nothing. I always, make, it a pint to acoemmodate the clergy in that way, never charge 'em fall price. I always lookt upon the Elder as a very gifted man — ^I staid here over the Sabbath once to hear him preach — ^I tell ye, Widder, 't was powerfal pleadin'. I ?m rather inclined to the Baptist order myself— ben quaverin' on the subjict ever sence I was broaght out — in fact I 've thought hard o' givin' up the travelin' marcantile business and studyin' deol- ogy; but, on the hull, I've about gi'n it up — 'twould- ent do for me to be confined to preachin' — ^my health requires such amount of exercise. But here 's that silk, did ye ever see the beat on 't ? now that 's what I call splendid — it's ginnjwine French — they call it 'grody' — grody-^-grody' — what the dogs — them French names is so consarnid hard to remember^-^0,. I know now, 'grody flewry;' jest take a realizin' sense o' the colors — ^how elegant them stripes is shaded off, green and yaller and purple, reglar French try- color, as they call it." "It 's slazy though, ther ain't much heft to 't." ■ "Heft! to be sure 'taint heavy, but heavy silka ain't worn no more, ye know; they 're all out o' fash- TBADES WITH A PEDDLEE. 113 ion— these ere liglit Frencli silks is aU the go now — ye see folks lias found out how much more durable they be than the heavy ones — them 's so apt to crack — why one o' these ere '11 outlast a dozen on 'em. I 've got jest a pattern on 't left — had a hull piece — sold tew dresses off on 't, one to Judge Hogobome's daughter in Greenbush, and the other to the Eeverend Dr. Eogo's wife in Albany. Now Widder what do ye say to takin' that, 'twould make a most hyastical wed- ' din' dress." "Well, 't ain't for me so say I 'm wantin' such an article — ^but s'posen I was — ^I 've got a new one that '11 dew. Sister Magwire pickt it out for me. She hain't got much taste about colors — ^but she 's a good judge of quality." " Got it made up !" " No ; but the mant-maker's a comin' to morrer to make it." " Lemme see it, if ye please. I want to compare it with this." (She brings it.) " Jingo I — I '11 be darn- ed if 't ain't stun-color ! the fag end of all colors ! Why, a body 'd think 't was some everlastin' old maid instid of a handsome young widder that had- chose such a distressid thing for a weddin' dress." "Lawful sakes ! I dident say 't was a weddin' dress —and I dident say I chose it myself: for, to tell the truth, I dident more 'n half like it : but sister Magwire stuck to 't was more suitable than ary other color— 114 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. and tlien tew, slie thought 't was sucli an amazan' good piece." " Good piece t Jingo ! what did ye pay for 't ?" " A dollar a yard. Ther 's twelve yards on 't — got it o' Parker and Pettibone, and they said 't was fust- rate." " Wal, I don't s'pose tliey meant to cheat ye — ^they got cheated themselves when they bought that sOk. I al- ways know'd that Parker and Pettibone wa'rn't no judges o' goods. The fact is, them New York mar- chants puts off their old onsailable articles onto 'em, and make 'em think they 're ginteel and desirable. I tell ye, Widder, ye got most consarnedly took in when ye boijght that silk. Ye won't wear it three times afore it 'U crack out at the elbows, and firay out round the bottom." " Well, I hain't ben suited with it none o' the time — shouldent a got it if sister Magwire hadent a ding- dong'd me into 't. Ther was a blue one ther 't I liked a great deal better." " I tell ye, Widder, it raly hurts my feelins to think o' your standin' up along side of Elder Sniffles with such' a consumid lookin' thing on." " shaw ! — stop yer hectorin' about th© Elder. I ain't obleeged to hev every body that 's after me." " Wal, I know that — only such chances as Elder SnifBles ain't to be sneezed at, ye know. But speakin' o' that sUk — ^if 't wa'n't for standin' in my own light TRADES WITH A PEDDLEK. 115 SO consamidly, I '11 Ipe darned if I wouldent offer to swop for a small matter o' boot." "Boot! that'swuss tlian the shoes! S'poseI'dgo to givin' boot to git rid on 't after payia' an awful sight o' money for 't in the fust place ?" " Wal, 't would be ruther aggravatin' if you 'd got • a fall pattern — ^you hain't but twelve yards. Of course ye dident calkilate to hev no trimmin', or ye 'd a got more." " I thought I shouldent trim it considerin' — " " Yes, I understand — considerin' 't was for a minis- ter's wife — " " Git out, Jabe-rl dident say so — " " Itell ye, Widder, you 're tew particMer — ^minister's wives is as dressy as any body. The Eeverend Doc- tor Fogo's wife had hern made up with three wide cross- grained pieces round the skirt. Jingo ! they sot it off slick. These ere stripid silks look fust rate with cross- grain trimmin' — seems to go windin' round and round, and looks so graceful kinder. I seen lots on 'em in the city. How them city ladies would larf at such a dress as yourn ! But out here in the country folks don't know nothin'." " If I 'd a trusted to my own taste, I shouldent a got it. I wish to massy I hadent a ben governed by sister Magwire." "Jingo ! wouldent it be quite an idee for you to be the fust in Scrabble Hill to come out in a ' grody flew- 116 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. ry.' Them colors would be wonderf al becomin' to you. Jest lemme hold it up to ye and you stan' up and look in the glass. Jingo ! it 's becominer- than I thought 't would be. I tell ye "Widder, you must hev that silk, and no mistake." " Dear me 1 I wish I could afford to swop — ^What 's it woth ?" ■ " Wal, I can't expect to git the full vally on 't. I 'U sell it. tew ye as low as I feel as if I could — it's a high-priced silk — ^bein' as it 's so fashionable now; but I '11 tell you, Miss Bedott — ^though I wouldent tell every body — the fact is, I got that silk at a bargin, and of course I can afford to let it go for considerable less than I could if I 'd a paid full price. Ye see the marchant I took it of was on the pint o' faihn', and glad to sell out for any money. He dident ax but a dollar a yard.' — Ther 's fourteen yards left, as you can see by the folds— and you may hev it for fourteen dol- lars, jest what it cost me. I teU ye, widder, it 's a bargin." "Lando' liberty! fourteen dollars! I can't think on 't." " Wal, then, I '11 dew still better by ye. I want you should hev this silk — so s'pozen I take yourn off yer hands, and you take this, and jest pay me the bal- ance. Mabby I could sell that to some distressid old quaker woman that wants an every-day frock — and what if couldent, I should hev the satisfaction o' t ^' riinMLii vu. p&lks.}d -^ ■' Stop a minute, Jake I'll repk it. It's time I was my ovm mistress any how. I know Bister Maguire'll say it's tew gay for me and call it flambergaeted, but I Jon't care.'' patrellT. TEADES ■WITH A PEDDLEE. 117 -dewin' you a fevor any how. — ^What d 'ye say to that?" " Lemme see — ^the halance — ^that -would be tew dol- lars. I 've paid twelve for t' other already. I don't know about .spendin' so much money — don't know what sister Maguire 'd say to 't. She 's gone over to see old aunt Betsy Crocket — aunt Betsey 's sick. Sis- ter Maguire hates striped silk, and pedlars tew — ^won't never trade with 'em — •" " Jingo I come to think on 't, I 'm a tarnal goose to be willin' to stand ia my own light jest for the sake of accommodatin' the wimmin folks — 't ain't no object to me." (He folds up the silk.) "Stop a minnit, Jabe. I'U resk it. It's time I was my own mistress, any how. I know sister Ma- guire '11 say it 's tew gay for me, and call it flambergas- ted, but I don't care — " " Gay ! I wish to massy she. could see a dress that Elder Cole's wife out east has got — entirely red — the reddest kind o' red tew — stripes as wide as my hand ! Thai 's ruther flambergasted for a minister's wife. So ye think ye '11 take it, hey ?" " Dunno but I wiU on the huU." " Wal, I s'pose I 'd orto stan to my offer — but I tell ye, "Widder, it 's a bargin." "Fourteen yardS; ye say?" " Fourteen yards plump — je may count the folds at ibe edge* Ye can hev cross-grain trimmiQ' if ye take 118 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. a notion. Jingo I -won't it give the Scrabble Hill wim- min fits to see ye witli that on ?" " "Well, I 'U take it. See, how much do I owe ye now?" I " But can't I sell ye any thin' else ?" XII. f SOTS l0pc». " T SAY, sister Magwire — ^this ere 's a miserable mean kind of a world, for I 've — •" " I don't agree witli you, Sill;f , I think it 's a very- good sort of a ■world if a body looks , at in a rigbt point o' view. Most o' folks in it used me well, and I guess tbey '11 continner to dew so as long as I use them well. For my part I 'm satisfied witli the world gin- erally speakin." " Well, s'pozen ye be, tbat 's no sign 't every body else liad ought to be satisfied with it. You was al- ways a wonderful satisfied critter. You think every body 's dretful nice and dretfal clever." " Now sister Bedott you know that ain't so^ — ^you know ther 's some folks 't I 've got a turrible mean opinion of." " I know ther is a few 't ye don't like — ^but I mean as a gineral thing you seem to think the most o' folks isjest about iright. Far my part) I 'd nither see things 120 -WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. as the j. actilly be. I shouldent want to be so ainful contented." " I should think so — ^for you ain't never contented only when you Ve got some thing to be discontented about." "Well, if that 's the case, I 'd ought to be content- ed the heft o' the time, for my trouble is continniwal." " How you talk, sister BedottI . I thought you had- ent nothing to complain of now-a-days. I know't along after your husband died you wus in ruther poor circumstances and used to grumble a good deal — but seems to me you 'd ought to be contented and thank- ful now. Yer childr»n's growd up to be blessins tew ye, and now they 're both settled and dewin-fiist rate. And sence father was took away, and the property was divided, you 've had enough to keep ye comfort- able, and more tew." "O lawful sakes! I dident mean't I was^over^y struck. Ther 's other kinds o' trouble besides that — ain't thar ? If you 'd a ben in Wiggletown durin' the last few years, and seen how every body was a peckin' at me, and a tryin' to put me down, you 'd a thought I had someiMm! to try me. You wouldent jaw me for thinkin' the world 's a dretful mean place — ^full o' dretful queer folks." " dear suz ! Some folks is always a talkin' about other folks' bein' queer, while, like enough, it 's them- selves that 's queer, after aJl." DISCOUESE ON VAEIOTJS TOPICS. 121 "I hope ye don't mean to insinniwate 't I''m queer, Melissy." " O no, Silly. I dident mean to iasinniwate that — but then ye know almost every body has ther queer streaks." " Yes — I know it 's a pecooliarity natral to every body to be queer about some things — ^but then somo folks is queerer 'n others." "Jest BO, Silly — some folks is actilly queer — and some folks thinks some other folks queer' 'cause they don't happen to think jist as they dew on some pints. We think some indiwiddiwals is quepr cause they dififer from us, and mabbe they think we We queer cause wo differ from them. "We 'd ought to be earful how we call other folks queer, for the fact is we 're all queer more or less — and them that lives in glass houses mustent throw stuns." " I wa'n't a throwin' stuns as I know on when I said 't was a queer world — for 't is — specially that part on't called Wiggletown. Scrabble HUl don't seem to be such a sort of a place at all, as fiir as I 'm able to judge. I think the inhabbiters is quite intellectible, as a gia- eral thing— and oncommon perlite, tew. I 'm qiiite pleased with the Scrabble Hdl folks. There 's Dr. Lippincott — ^he 's quite a science man, I should think, from the way he talks." " Mabbe he is — can't say— for I can't understand much o' what he says, he talks so big." 122 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. " I shoTildent wonder if you couldent— tut that ain't no sign nobpdj can't. I was quite pleased with him, and his wife, tew— they seemed so friendly — ^took «wcA an interest in my health, and was so consarned about my cough that night they called on me." " Yes — I guess they 've got an ide^ your a rich wid- der, livin' on the interest o' yer money — ^husband says thpr 's such a story 'round — shouldent wonder if hus- band started it himself, jist to see what would be the effect on 't.!' " I shouldent nbther, he 's so fuU o' mischief—but you don't s'pose that 's what makes the Peabodys, and the Buels, and the Fusticks, and the Hugles so perlite tew me, dew ye ?" "01 ain't no rite to say 'tis^— I 'm sure I 'm glad they 're so attentiye — it '11 make yer visit pleasanter." "Jest so — seems to me Miss Deacon Fustick's a sing'lar woman — she seems to be intirely tookup with the ' anti-tea-and-coffee society' — talked to me all the time she was here about it — said I might depend on 't that all that madei me so thin, and have such a cough, was drinkin' tea and coffee. If she runs me so every time I see her I guess I shall keep clear on her — for I won't give up my tea and coffee for her nor nobody else." " lawful sakes I Ye heedent be afeard o' that — ■ she '11 be on to something new afore long. She takes up every thing that comes along, and gits all engaged DIBCOUESE ON VAEIOUS TOPICS. 123 about it. A spell ago slie was wide awake against Sabbath-breaMn'f and dident talk about notbin' else — tben 't was moral reform — next come Millerism — " " Now tbat niakes me think of old mother Green in Wiggletown. You remember old Jabe Green 's wife ! — she was always jest so carried away with every new thing, ye know. Tew or three years ago, when Millerism was makin' such a noise, ther was a ■feller along lecturin' about it — and a number o' the Wiggle- town folks raly thought ther was something in it. But old Miss Green was clear killed up with it. She give up all bizness, and dident dew nothin' but traipse round from house to house a takin' on about the eend o' the world — 't was a comin' afore long. Well — one day she come into Sam Pendergrasses — 't was afore old Miss Pendergrass, Sam's mother, died. She was a hvin' with 'em— and ye know she was a woman that always minded her own bizness. Well^she sot ther at her loom a weavin' away — she was a great hand to weave, the old lady was. Sam's wife was a settin' there tew— 't was Sam's wife told me about it. Well — Miss Green she sot down in the rockin' cheer, with her face half a yard long, an she hauled out her snuff-box (she was an all-torpieces snuff-taker ye know) and she begun to snuff and rock, and rock and snuff, as hard as ever she could, and every once in a whUe she'd heave a turrible Sythe. Byme-by says she, 'Miss Pendergraas, do you expect to finish that web ?' 124 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. 'Well, I ruther guess I shall,' says tlie old lady, says ste, ' if I live.' ' If you live,^ says Miss Green, 'that '3 the pint— for my part I 've sot my house in order, and^ I'm ready to go any minnit, and I wish you could say the same. It 's raly a moloncdlly sight to see you So occupied with the consarns o' this world that 's jest a comin' to and eend. I don't see how you can set there a weavin' a piece o' cloth when the day o' the Lord 's so nigh at hand,' and she took a normous pinch o' snuff, and gi'n a dretful gtoan. 'Well,' says old Miss Pendetgrass, says she, ' I 'm glad you feel so sar- tin about yer condition — I 'd as lieve the Lord would find me a weavin' cloth as a to/cm' snuff J " " Well, that was a good unl It ought to stopped the old woman's mouth and sot her a thinkin'. Miss Fustick is some such a woman in some respects." " I was pleased to hear Gappen Smalley take up agin her in fayor o' tea and feoffee, t' other night, in to Miss Xjrrimes's. ' By the way, Cappen Smalley 's quite an intellectible man, ain't he?" " Why, yes — -he knows enough. It kind o' strikes me he 's a steppin' up 'to Charity^ — 'seems to go there considerable." "You don't ! Well ther 's no accountin' for tastes, I dew say, I should a took the cappen for a man o' better judgment than to be pleased with such a critter. Don't you think she 's awful disagreeable ?" " Well, I muet say I don't admire her no great." DISCOtTESE': ON VARIOUS TOPICS. 125 " And tten' she 's so awful humbly tew. What a draw up nose she 's gotl And she 's so turribly af- fected and stuck up. I took a dislike tew her the first time I ever see her-^when she .come in here with her mother. The widder 's a skew-jawed oncomforta- ble lookin':old erittei', ain't she?" "Yes — and no wonder, for she 's tew stingy to fed comfortable, and of course she can't hok. so. You was sayin', a spell ago, that I thought every body was dretfal nice, and dretfal clever, and I told ye ther was some folks I had a turrible mean opinion of — well, the Widdef Grimes -is one on- 'em — she 's the meanest woman in the neighborhood." " Is, hay ! Well I reckoned whether or no she wa'n't •when I seen her." "And Charity 's a chip o' the old block. They git their livin' by visitin' and borrerin'. They keep that little black girl o' theirn on a trot the heft o' the time — -runnin' after a litth piece o' butter here, a half a loaf o' bread there, and a little o' this that and t' other in another place — and they ain't everlastin* partickler about payia'. They boTrer a good d^al o' me, and I ginerally let 'em have it. 'T ain't much they ax for at once, and I hate to refuse when I 've got it ia the house. They send every few days for a slice or tew of bread, and so it goes on for some time — tUl what they've got amounts to mabbe, half a dozen loaves — and then the little nigger comes in with a loaf p' bread, 126 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. and says she, 'Missy Grimes sends this loaf o' bread and -wants Missy Magwire to iahe off whut's right The last time she sent hum bread in that way— only a few days ago — ^hnsband was in — ^I took the loaf and was a gwine to cut off a piece as usual — but husband laid his Jiand on my arm, and says he, ' Stop, MeHssy — don't you cut that — here, Snowball, take it hum and tell Miss Grimes 't w:ouldent be right to take off none on 't.' I don't know whether they took the hint • — time '11 show. But I got rid o' ther borrerin' coffee the slickest^or ruther husband did — 't was his dew- ins. They used to send about once a week after coffee— and once in a while they 'd send hum a cup full, ready ground-^and of all. things !• such miserable stuff I never laid my mouth tew! 'twas as black as dirt. I biled some on 't once or twice, and then I gin it up — for husband nor Jeff wouldent nary one on 'em touch it — they declared 't wa'n't nothin' but burnt bread-crusts. At last, one day when Miss Grimes sent hum some- coffee, husband happened to be in. After the nigger 'd gone he says to me, says he, ' Now, Melissy, you save that coffee, and the next time Miss Grimes sends to borrer, jest give it tew her.' Wellj 't want long afore they sent agin. Dianny come in with' her cup and said Missy Grimes had company come oncxpected, and hadent no coffee burnt, and wanted to git a little. So I goes to the cubberd and fetches out the same old stuff and giv«s it tew her. DISOOUESE ON VABIOUS TOPICS. 127 I tell ye I felt rather mean when I gi'n it tew her, but then I 'd , promised husbafld I would, and besides, I kind o' wanted to see how 'twould operate. That was three months ago, and they hain't sent for coffee sence.'' " Well that was about the cutest thing I ever heerd o' your dewin, Melissy. You sarved 'em right. But ain't it curus 't Cappen Smalley should be pleased with Charity ? wonder if he knows how mean they be ?" " If he did 't would be a recommendation tew him." "What! Cappen SmaUey ain't a tight man, is he?" " Tight ! yes, tight as the skin tew his back."- "Well, now, I am beat! 'Why how oncommon good and ginerous he talked t! other night, when he come in to Parson Tuttle 's, when we was there to tea — seemed to be so ingaged in every menevolent opera- tion." " Yes, he 's famous for wishin' 't every Tjody might be warmed and clothed ; but somehow or another he never hands over. Whenever any body goes tew him with a subscriptiou-paper, he always seems highly de- lighted with it — says it's an excellent objick' — ^an objick he feels wonderftilly interested in — ^he does hope they '11 succeed in raisin' enough for 't — 't would be shameful if they dident. But he 'd ruther not put his name down — ^he has an aversion to makin' a dis- play — he wishes they 'd go all round and raise what they can, and if they don't git enough, come to him. 128 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. and lie 11 make up what 's lacMn^.. Somehow or another it' don't often iappen 't- he 'b called on to make-up what 's kckin' : when he is, he 's generally missin'. . Parson Tuttle don't seem to see through him yet — ^he thinks he 's a wonderful charitable man." " Speakin'^ o' Parson Tuttle— seeins^ to, me he ain't very deep." " 0, Parson Tuttle 's considerable of a man ; he 's young yet,, but I think he 's got a good deal o' stami- ny in him. He '11 improve as he grows older." " "Well, whether he improves or not, it 's my opin- ion he won't never be able to hold a candle to Elder Snifaes.", "Granf'ther grievousJ you ain't in airnest, Silly?" " I be tew. I think Elder Sniffles is equil to Parson Potter." "Well, I '11 give it up now. I always thought the elder was ruther of a dough-head." " No thin' but prejudice, Mehssy — ^nothin' in the world but prejudice, 'cause he happens to belong to a different seek from yourn'= — 't ain't right to be so set in^ yer way." "Deary me, SHly ! seems to me you 're got to be wonderful forbearin', lately ; you used to blaze away about the Baptists turribly." " I know I dident use to like 'em much, but 't was 'cause I dident know much^ about 'em, and husband you know, couldent bear 'em," DISOOTTESE ON VAEIOUS TOPICS. 129 " Well, I' disremember about that : but I dew remem- ber o' heariu'you blow Mm up once forgwine to Bap- tist meetin'." " Well, I say for 't, your memory 's wonderful good — considerable^ better 'n mine. Any how — s'posen a ibodycfoes dislike a sartin seek, and' express ther senti- ments agin _'em— ris that any reason why they should- ent be open to conviction; and alter ther minds con- sarnih' em ?" " To be sure not — ^but it does seem queer to me 't you should be so eat up 'with Elder Sniffles,, when you hain't heerd him preach but once : but he 's widdiwer now, and I s'pose that makes his preachin' a good deal interestiner. Shouldent wonder if you 'd heerd he 'd lost his wife, afore you went to his meetin' — hadent ye ? no.w, Silly, own up." " Melissy Magwire I I should like to know what you mean to insinniwate. If I take a notion to go to Baptist meetin' or any other meetin', I got a right to dew it, and I will dew it as much as I 'm a mind tew, and if my motives is impunged, I can't help it — ^that 's all." Enter Mr. Maguire — " "What ye jawin', about, now ?" "We wa'n't a jawin', was we, sister Bedott? we- was only, discussin'." " Cussin', . hey.? well, then, what was ye ciissin^ about?" " What a critter you be to misunderstand I I did- 6* 130 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEBS. ent say cussin\ but c^wcussin'. We was discussin' Elder Sniffles— ye know Silly thinks he 'a sometMng super- . natral." " Haw ! haw ! haw ! what if Silly should , git to be' a Baptist ! woiildent it be a joke, though? But look here, Silly, you must be carM how ye set yer traps for the elder — it might be dangerous to interfere with Sally Hugle's pretensions. Don't yes'poseWife, that Sally 's ruther a squintin' that way ?" " Well, I shouldent wonder if she was ; I don't is'pose she 'd have any serus objections to changin' her condition. That are piece of poitry o' hern, that cum out in the paper last week, looked ruther pintcd, did- entit?" " What ! sister Magwire, you don't mean to say 't Sally Hugle writes poitry ?" "Lawful sakes, yes ! she writes bushels on 't — curus kind o' poitry, tew. Ther 's some on 't -comes out al- most every week in the ' Scrabble Hill Luminary.' She signs it 'Hugeliner.' She generally calls 'em ' stiwnefe'— Jeff says they ought to be called mooinets, cause they 're always full o' stuff about the moon and stars, and so on. She's always groanin' away about her inward griefs, and unhnown miseries. I don't know what to make on 't. Sally Hugle never had no par- tickler trouble as I know on — without 't was her not bein able to ketch a husband." " See, wife — what was that she writ on the death of DISCOURSE ON VAEIOrrS TOPICS. 131 Elder Sniffleses mfe ? can't you remember some on 't. I thouglit that was about as rich as any tMng o' hem I 'd seen." "Lemme see. I 'm sure I 'd ought to remember it ; for Jeff bad it over all the time for about a ■week— 'a singin' it through his nose to the tune o' ' Saint Mar- ting'— that goes shakin' up and down ye know, kiad o' Bollem. Less gee — seems to me this was the way it begun. — ' As droops the pale effulgent flower, Py ■wintry treezea tried— So, in an onexpeoted hour. Sear Missis Sniffles died.' Now what comes next ? Oh, I remember — ' No more her sorrowin' pardner hears The voice he loved below — While tears, unmitigated tears, Eeveal his Tjesom's woe. -< In that respect anoh grief as hisen Is different from my own, Which, in my heart's dark mournful prison, Lies ranklin' unbeknown ;' " Ther 's more on 't, but I forgit what 't is." " That 's enougft any way,;wife — ^what do ye thiTiV on 't, sister Bedott — s'pose ye could beat it?" "I should be' sorry if I couldent — why I could make better poitry 'n that by throwin' an inkstand at a sheet o' paper. I wonder if she expects the elder '11 be took with such stuff. If he is, I 'm mistaken." " S'pose you take hold, then, and see if ye can't 132 'WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEBS. ■write her down — ^wouldent it be a capital idee, wife, for Silly to write a piece o' poitry to tlie elder, and have it printed ia the ''Luminary.' Come on, SiUy — that you writ on Miss Crane's death was \es:j touchin\ though it dident seem to touch Mr. Crane much." " Brother Magwire, I look upon 't as an insult, to have old Crane's name mentioned in my hearin' — con- siderin' all the lies that 's told about him and me, and all the trouble his disagreeable attentions gin me — and I hope in futur you 'II keep silent on that onpleasant Subjick." " I beg yer pardon, sister Bedott. I forgot you was BO sore on that pint. But I 'm in amest about that poitry. Why not try, and see if you can't beat ' Hu- geliner ' all hoUer." " Seems to me you 're changed yer mind about my poitry ; you used to turn up yer nose at it." " 0, well, my taste improves as I git older, tad- mire poitry more 'n I used to." " Well, I 'n show you some varses I writ a spell ago on the Mexican War — and see wha* you think on 'em." (She goes to bring them, anQ. Mrs. Maguire re- marks — ) ('Now, Joshaway, ain't you ashamed o' yerselfl You 'd ought to know better 'n to go to puttin' SUly Tip to writin' poitry — ^first we know she '11 be a sendin' some of her stuff to the 'Luminaxy,' and it 'U make her ridickilous, and us tew," DISOOUKSE ON VAEIOUS TOPICS. 133 " Don't fret your ^zzard, Melissy. -ITobody won't think nothing she does is ridickilous— for ye know its gineraljy thought she 's a rich widder, and every body '11 be ready to swaller her poitry — 1 don't care if it 's the tamalest mess o' stuff that ever was put together," XIII. Mrifes to |im. Deae Elder: X DON'T know but wliat you '11 consider it ratter forrard in me to trouble you witb. tbis epistol, bein' as I 'me a' most a strainger ; but I hope youle over- look my appearent want of judition, and attribit tbis communication to tbe oncommon interest I take in your welfare. Sence tbe first time I beerd you preaisb, I 've bad bad an undescriberble desire to bev some privit conversation witb you, in regard to the state o' . my mind — ^your discourse was so wonderful searcbin' that I felt to mourn over my backslidden state o' stewpidity, and my consarn has increased every time I 've sot under tbe droppin's o' your sanctuery. Last ■nigbt wben I beerd o' your sickness, I felt wonderful overcome ; enable to conseal my aggitation, I retired to my cbamber, and bust into a flood o' tears. I felt for you, Elder Sniffles — I felt for you. I was won- derfal exercised in view of your lone condition. 0, it 's a terrible tbing to be alone in tbe world 1 I know WRITES TO ELDEE SNIFFLES. 135 all about it by experience, for I Ve ben pardnerless fol- nigh twelve year^ it 's a tryin' tbing, but I thougbt 't was better to be alone than to run enny resk — for you know it 's runnin' a grate resk to take a second companion, espeshelly if they ain't decidedly pious — and them that's tried' to perswade me to change my condition, dident none on 'em give very satisfactory evidence of pioty — 't ain't for me to say how menny I 've refused on account o' ther want o' religion. Accordin' to my notions, riches and grander ain't to be compaired to religion, no how you can fix it, and I always told 'em so. But I was a telUn'.how over- come I was when I heerd o' your bein' attackted with influenzy. I felt as if I must go right over and take care of you. I wouldent desire no better intertaui- ment than to nuss you up, and if 'twa'n't for the speech o' peeple, I 'd fly to your relefe instanter ; but I know 't would make talk, and so I feel necessiated to stay away. But I felt so consarned about you, that I couldent help writin' these few liaes to let you know how anxious I be on your account, and to beg o' you to take care o' yerself. 0, elder, do be careftil' — ^the influenzy 's a dangerous epedemic, if you let it run on without attendin' to it in season. Do be kerful — con- sider what a terrible thing 't would be for you to be took away in the hai^t of yer usefulness ; and 0, elder, nobody wouldent feel yer loss with more inten- situde than what I should, though mebby I hadent 136 WIDOW B-EDOTT PAPERS. ouglat- to say so. 0, Elder Snifaes, I feel as If I couldent part with you, no how. I 'me so. interested in your preachin', and it 's had such a wonderfal at- tendency to suhdew my prejudices aginst'your de- nomination, and has sot me a considerin' whether or no I -nra'n't in the wrong. 0, reverend elder, I intreat you to take case o' yer preshus helth. I Send you herewith a paper o' boneset, you must mate some good stiff tea out, and drink ahout a guart to-night afore you retire. Molasses and Tiaegar's a good thing too for a cold or coff ; jest take about a piflt p' molasses and bile it down with a teacup of vinegar and a hunk o' butter as big as a hen's egg, and stir in about a half a teacup full of pepper sass, and eat it down hot jest afore, bedtime — and take a strip o' flannil, and rub some hog's lard on 't, though goose ile 's about as good, and pin it round yer throte right off; and I send likewise a bag o' hops ; you must dip it in bilin' vinegar, and lay it on yer chist when you go to bed, and keep a dippin' on 't as fast as it begins to git cool ; and jest afore you git into bed, soke yer feet in bilin' hot water with some red peppers in. it; now don't forgit nothin' I 've proscribed. But I was a tellin' how exercised I felt last night when I heaid o' your sickness. I went immejitly to my chamber, , and gin way to my grefe in a violent flood of tears. I retired to my couch o' repose, but my aggitation pervented my sleepin'. I felt quite* a call to express WRITES TO ELDEB SNIFFLES. 137 my feelin's in poitry — I 'me verjr apt to when enny thing comes over me — so I riz and lifted my candle, and composed these stanzys, which I hope will be agreeable to you. O reverend sir, I do dedare, It drives me a' inoat to Henzy, To" think' o' you a lyin' there DoTm sick with influenzy. A body 'd a thought it was enough To mourn yer wife's departer, Without such trubble as this 'ere To come a follerin' arter. But sickness and affliction is trials sent By the will o' a wise creation, And allways ought to Me underwent With fortytude and resignation. Then mourn not for yer pardner's death, But to suhmit endevver ; ' For s'posen she hadent a died so soon, She couldent a Eved forever. 0, 1 could to your bedside fly, And wipe yer weepin' eyes, And tiy my best to cure yon up, If 't wouldent create surprise. It 's a world o' trial we tarry in — But elder, don't dispair ; That you may soon be movin' agin, Is constantly mj prayer. Both sick and well, you may depend Youle never be forgot, By yonr faithful and affectionate friend, Peisoiila Pool Bedott. P. S. My nefew, Jefferson Magwire, will hand yon this epistol, I should be wonderful happifled to re- 138 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. ceve a few lines from you wlien yoli git able, jest to show wlietlier or no yon think me forrard in address- in' you in this manner. P. P. B. P. S. Now do be cerful o' yerself, dear elder' — ex- cuse me (for callin' you dear, it came out afore I Tvas aware on't — don't fail to foller my directions, espe- shelly about the boneset ; it 's the sovereinest cure in nater for influenzy — and be sliure to soke yer feet in the hot water and peppers-^ther ain't nothin' like, it to fetch down infermation— rand bind up yer throte in the iled flannel — it prevents swellin' — and I wouldent . have you forgit to use the hop-bag, for nothta' — -jest keep a pan o' hot vinegar on top o' yer stove, and dip the bag ia it about once in ten minnits, all night- it 'U give you such a good night's rest-^hops is sleepyfyin'. Committin' you to the care o' creation, and hopin' youle be about agia in a few days, I siae myself yourn, with consarn, P. P, Bedoot. ELDEE sniffles' EEPLT. >[osT Woetht Mrs. Bedott: Your communication of yesterday was duly re- ceived at the hand of your nephew. At the period of its reception,, I was laboring under too great a degree of corporeal prostration to dictate an imtnedi- atc response. But at present, feeling my physical con- ELDER. sniffles' EEPLT. 139 dition to be, to some extent, ameliorated, I hasten to respond-. Accept my most unqualified acknowledg- ments for the interest -which you apparently take in my welfare-^and for the articlfes which you so kindly transmitted by your nephew. Permit me, also, to assure you of my abundant gratification at the assur- ance that my unpretending discourses have -been the feeble instrument of exerting a saluta,ry influence upon your mind. I feel, most deeply do I feel, that I am ' but a poor unworthy worm of the dust ; . and it serves but to augment my humiliation to reflect that my labors in the field have been so signally blessed. Your remedies, most excellent madam, I have applied' in accordance ' with your directions ; and it affords me no inconsiderable satisfaction to be able to say that I think I can safely affirm that- their effects upon my System have been salubrious ; and I can but indulge the hope that they will tend to my ultimate , restora- tion. I must not, however, omit to mention, that I did not realize, to the fall extent, the efficacy of the hop- bag ;. for after having arisen agreeably to your direc- tions, some"five or 'six times (it may be seven, I will not venture to speak positively as to the number) and immersed the hop-bag in the boiling vinegar, I re- gret to say*that I unintentionally fell intp a state of ,unconsciousnesSj from which I unhappily did not awake until morning. Owing to this unfortunate oc- currence, I probably did not enjoy the refreshing 140 ' "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. repose wMcli a constant application of tlie Kot hop- bag -would liave afforded. However, notwithstand- ing this -unintentional neglect, I am happy to state that the virulence of my attack is decidedly abated. I acknowledge myself deeply indebted for the poem , which- accompanied your communication, It was truly gratifying to my feelings. Your remark therein embodied, that "we tarry in a world of trial," is a very just one— 7 very, indeed. This is incontrovertibly a life of trials — of disappointment? and fluctuations, sent, -undoubtedly, for the fortiScation of our faith. It will afford me most unmitigated pleasure to con- vese -with you privately, in regard to your mind, and to give you such iastructions upon doctrinal points as may be necessary and conducive to your spiritual edification. With that view, I in-vite you to call at my residence on Friday evening next, when, if no unforeseen contingencies intervene to prevent, and my , corporeal condition Continues to improve, I shall be unoccupied and most happy to attend to your case, and enlighten you in relation to such inquiries as you may be pleased to propound. "With sentiments of unmitigated regard, I remaia your obliged friend, 0. Shabrack Sniffles. XIV. %\i Mxiim ifMts to €M MM fax %d^imr 'intmttxav,. " XtTHEEE you g>-ine, sister Bedott?" ^^ " Well, I tHougM I 'd go to Parson Tu±tle's Friday evenin' leetiir.", " Wliy tter ain't none. Don't you remember Mr. Tuttle said last Sunday that lie 'd got to be away to- day, and- the lectur 'd be omitted?" " 0, sure enougb— -so he did." But come to think — don't you remember he said the brethern and sisters might meet and have a season o' prayer?" " O, yes— he did says so. But lawful sakes ! I don't think it 's very edifyin' to go set a hull evenin' and hear Deacon Pustick- and Deacon Peabody and old Parker hold forth." '^ " Nor I nother. But then I think it 's my duty to go once in a while. Ye know Scripter says we mus n't forsake the assemblin' of ourselves together. I guess I '11 go tew night." (She departs and proceeds to Elder Sniffles resi- dence.) 142 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. " Good evenin', Elder Sniffles. You see I 'm punc- table to the time. I always make.it a pint to be. I tMnk punctability 's very, important." " A very just remark, Mrs. Bedott — ^it is so — and I am most happy to receive you this evening." " Well, how 's your health now ? Oonvalessih', I hope?" - " It affords me the most unmitigated satisfaction to be able to state that my corporeal system has, in a great measure, recovered its usual tone." (With much fervor.) " how thankful I be to hear you say so. Elder Sniffles. You can't have the re- motest idee o' my anxiety on your account, and how delighted I feel to find you so much better, and I hope you 've recovered yer tone so 's to be able to sing agin. It 's a great blessin' to sing when a body has such a powerful voice as yourn. I 've obsarved it a Sabberdays in meetin'. how oneasy I've been about you when I thought you might be .took away, and me never hear you preach no more. I felt as if I couldent submit to 't no how. 'T was a dretful sub- jick o' retrospection to thftik o' your dessolution. ■ I was wonderful glad to git your letter, and know 't you dident think I 'd overtopt the bounds of propriety in writin' to you. I was so afeared you would. But I felt so consairned for fear you wouldent be comfortable and have such care as you 'd ought tew — livin' all alone so— nobody in the house but a little chore-gal— EESOKTS TO ELDER SNIFFLES. 143 and what does she know abput taking care of a sick man?" "0, Sally does very -well. As a general thing she discharges the duties devolving upon her with fidelity and—" "As fur as you know, undoubtedly^-but 't ain't likely you know jest how things goes on. I never know'd a gal o' her age but what wanted watchin' every minnit. You can't trust . 'em they 're such highty-tighty critters. And then the best on 'em wants a head to. oversee 'em all the time — ^the very best on 'em can't dew for you as a pardner would. O, when an indiwiddiwal 's sick then 's the time they feel the want of a companion, and ministers is so apt to git sick, ye kncJIs'." "A very just remark, ma'am — ^very indeed, ©ur profession is arduous. I myself am the subject of fiequent valetudinary attacks — ^the effects, undoubted- ly, of intense application." " Jest so. I remember Parson Potter, our minister in Wiggletown, used to have a great many poor iums, dispepshy-hke — his vittals- distresst him." " He was a Presbyterian clergyman, I suppose." " Yes. He labored in Wiggletown ten years. My husband was deacon all the time he was there. Died about a year after Parson Potter left there. Husband used to have such attacks aS' yourn, tew. He enjoyed miserable health for a number o' year afore he died. 144 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPBES. He tvas a feeble constitutioned man. I s'pose Be wouldent a lived no -wlier-nigli as long as he -did if, I hadent a bell uiidefateegable in takin' care of him. O, how I did watch that man!. For six or seven years afore his dessolution I gi'n up my hull time tew him. The neighbors used to say, ' Miss Bedott, you '11 sartinly wear yerself out takin' care o' the deacon.' '-Well,' says I, 'it '11 be in a good cause if I dew. I consider it a duty and a privilege to devote myself to my husband. I don't want no better occerpation.' And 'twas_a wonderful comfort tew me after his dizease, to think I had been so devoted. O elddr, mine was a dretful loss! I've always felt as if 't would be very difficult to make it up to me. My friends has wondered at me for continiwin single so long, but, as I obsarved in my letter," I always told 'em 't was a very resky bishess to take a second •pardner, very resky, indeed. Don't you think so, elder?" "I do, indeed; the selection of a consort, either first or second, is a matter of immense importance, and involves consequences of tremendous magnitude. In my opinion, it — " "I says to 'em, says I, when they was a teazin' me to git married agin, I says to 'em, says I, don't speak on 't, don't — I 've had one o' best o' men for a pard- ner, and I lived in the greatest conjugial felicitude with him; and that 's the reason why I'm so pertick- RESORTS TO ELDER SNIFFLES, 145 ler HOW — ^piety's every thing — don't you think so, Elder Sniffles?" "A very just remark, Mrs. Bedott— *piety is every thing, truly. Your late consort was, undoubtedly, a pious individual; though, as you begin to perceive, being a Presbyterian, he must necessarily have held some views which undoubtedly were^— were — " "Yes— husband was ruther sot in his way, and that 's the reason why I never got inlightened on some pints — ^husband always thought every thing Parson Potter said was jest right ; and Parson Potter was a wonderful prejudiced man. He writ a couple o' sar- mons aginst the Baptists, and had 'em printed ; and husband used to read 'em over and over again. Yes — 't ain't to be denied that husband was mistaken on some doctrinal pints — my mind has been wonderfully exercised about it laTely." " I should judge so from your letter; and I trust — " " Ever sence the first time I heerd you preach, I 've felt oneasy ; I says to my nephew Jefferson Magwire — (ye know he went witli me to the meetin') — Jeff, says I, I feel as if I must hear Elder Sniffles convarse. You see, Jeff had been a.tellin' me afore we went what an interestin' preacher you was ; but I 'd no idee I should be so much affected — ^mabby you obsarved I was quite overcome at one part o' the discourse ; 't was when you dwelt upon the changeable natur of artbly happiness — ^the onsartinty of every thing — ^it t 146 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. touolied a tender pint. I thouglit how it applied to Taj case — my circumstances is so clianged^ — alone in tlie world — ^wil^iout a sympathizing buzzom to lean on — nobody to take any pertickler intrest in me." [She covers her face with her handkerchief, and appears much agitated.] "But, Mrs., Bedott, in this mundane sphere, we should endeavor to be prepared for the innumerable fluctuations which — " "I'm aware on 't. Elder Sniffles — ^I 'm intirely aware o' the truth o' what you obsarve ; but then you ■know an indiwiddiwal in my sittiwation has so many onpleaaat things to incount^r ; if they 're ever so ker- ful, folks will talk and say they 're a gwine to change ther condition — and be all the time a picMn' out this one and that one for 'em — when they hain't no more idee o' changin' ther condition than they have o' flyin'. And then ther 's another dretful trial we have to uji- dergo ; dew what we will, we can't git red o' the im- partinent attentioijs o' the men folks. If we 're ever so stiff and haughty tew 'em, they won't seem to mind it a speck ; they mil keep a makin' up tew us — and you've no idee how dizagreeable 'tis — 'twaS the prin- cipal cause o' my leavin' Wiggletown. As long aa my son and darter was with me, I felt as if 't was my duty to stay there — ^but when they got married and left me, it seemed as if I couldent stan' it no longer — not that I 've got any thing to say against the indi- RESORTS TO ELDER SNIFFLES. 147 widiwals that was pleased with me — 't wa'n't their fault that I wa'nM; suited with ary one on 'em ; but 't was very onpleasant to be the objick o' their preference, when I coTildent recipperate none o' ther feelins — and was detarmined never to unite my destination to a per- son that was destitue o' religion. 'T was a tryin' siti- wation to be placad in-: but dear me ! it 's awful tryin' to be without a companion, as I remarked in some stanzys 1 was a writin' 't other day. What sittiwation ctm lie wuas Than not to haye notody to care far us} Eiohes and honors that most folks prize, Ain't of no vally in niy eyes In comparison with a congenial heart, In all our consams to take a part ; To recipperate all our hnzzom's emotions, And to take the lead in our daily devotions. ■" Ain't them your sentiments, elder?" " They are so, Mrs. Bedott ; the society of a conge- nial spirit is truly desirable. In particular, I consider congeniality of sentiments to be indispensable as re- gards religious opinions ; and as you have expressed a desire to receive some instructions relating to doctrinal points—" . ■ " Yes, I have felt very much exercised lately. I 've felt to deplore my lukewarmness and want o' zeal, but especially I 've felt to mourn over my former prej- udices against your seek : but you see I 've always ben placed under onfortinate circumstences — circumstences that 's had an attendency to exart an onfavoraljle in- 148 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. fluenoe on my religious faith ; and it actillj seems as if the hand o' Providence was in my comin' here to Scrabble Hill, instid o' concludin' to go to Varmount to mj brother, Christopher Colambus Poole's. They •wanted I should come there, but somehow another I felt a loud call to come here. I speak on 't in another stanzy o' the same poem I iUuded tew jest now. I says, says I — Yes, sartin there was a providence in it, And- 1 shall always hless the minnit That fixed my choice on Scrabble Hill, Instid o' the town o' Battonville — S'posen I 'd a went to Buttonville, and stayed all win- ter, instid o' comin' here — ^how different my circum- stences would a ben. 0, Elder Snif9.es, what a ptivi'* lege 'tis to set Sabberday after Sabberday under your preachin', and to be permitted to come to yer house and injoy the benefit o' hearin' you eonvarse on relig- ious subjicks. I dew feel as if I couldent be thankful enough. The day you was t' our house to dinner, I was wonderfully interested in yer conversation. I s'pose you obsarved I was ruther tackciturn most o' the time — 't was cause I felt under considerable con- straint. Sister Magwire and her husband is very well meanin' folks, but they 're dretful narrer minded and sot in ther way. I don't never feel free to express my mind afore 'em as I 'd like tew — ^you know a body can't when they 're so sittiwated-r-" EESOETS TO ELDEE SNIFFLES. 149 " Exactly — a very just remark — in order to enjoy tTie entire benefit of intellectual or religious discourse, an individual must be wholly unrestrained. The pre- sent occasion, therefore, is one suited to — " "Yes, felt so gratified when I got your letter andm- vitation to come round here to-night. 0, thinks me, what a blessid privUegg 't is — I dew hope I 'preciate -it — ^but 0, elder, elder, what if it should git out that I come here alone, and^ in the evenin' ! What would some folks say? You know ther's so many that's ready to ketch up every little thing, and make the most on 't. Gracious sakes alive ! what should I dew if the story should get round that I was settin' my cap for you ! and I know 't would if Sally Hugle should find out I come here to-night — they say she 's a dret- ful nieddlin' critter, and. I 'm sure she don't feel none o' the frenhest to me ; I s'pose it 's cause I hain't shew- ed no great anxiety to cultivate her society. The fact is the minnit I first set my eyes on her, I made up my mind she wa'n't a person I cared about havin' for an intimit : her countenance is so dizagreeable. I should know she had an onpleasant disposition; thinks me she 's got grit and no mistake. Brother Magwire says he should pity any man that would be draw'd in by her, cause she 's so lazy. They say when she ain't a spinnin' street yarn, she don't dew nothin' but write poitry ; her mother and sister Polly has the hull heft o' the housekeepin' on their shoulders; Now I say 150 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. tlier ain't no need o' neglectin' yer-duties to write poi- try : for I Ve writ a sight on 't in my day — enongli,- 1 should say, to fill a bushel basket— and nobody can't say 't I ever allowed it to interfere with my domestic consarns. A body can write poitry and be industrous tew. And massy on me ! such poitry , as hern ! did you ever ! — ^but 't ain't for me to crittycise other folkses writin's, nor I don't want to say nothin' deroggery to Sally Hugle — only I dew hope she never '11 find out about my comin' here. O, Elder Sniffles, I 'm a lone woman ; ther ain't nobody to stan' up for my rights, if the voice o' slander should be raised aginst me." [She weeps.] " Be calm, Mrs. Bedott — [he approaches and sits down beside her] — ^permit me to assure you that your apprehensions are utterly groundless. You are quife too sensitive — quite. It is no unusual circumstance for individuals of your sex to resort to me for religious instruction and private conversation in regard to the state of their minds." " Does Sally Hugle ever corae for private conversa- tion?" "I believe — ^indeed it strikes me that Miss Hugle has done so once or twice;" " 0, Elder Sniffles,. beware of that critter. Depend on 't 't ain't for the sake o' gittin instruction she comes. It 's jist for to insiniwate herself into your favor — and ju4gin' from what I 've« seen and heerd of her, I EESOETS TO ELDBB SKIFFLES. 151 shonldent ' wisli my worst inn^my a greater cuss than to git her for a pardner. Old maids always makes miseraUe wives — and of all things, to think o' such a person as Sally Hugle bein' united to a man like Elder Sniffles ! A man that ought to have the very salt of the arth f(5r a companion. 0, its awftd ! 'T would put an eend to your usefulness, depend on 't." " Compose yourself, my dear madam. Your fears are unfounded. The interest which you take in my welfare touches me deeply. If the period should ever arrive when I shall deem it essential to select a second consort, believe me, I shall — " "0, Elder Sniffles!" "I shall proceed with the utmost caution and pru- dence." • [A hurried knock is heard at the door.] " There ! some body 's a comin'. I must go." " Well, allow me to entreat you to lay aside all ap- prehensions, and resort to me whenever you wish to unburden your mind, or receive religious instruction." " I 'm very much obleeged to ye, Elder Sniffles, very much, iadeed. I feel as if your conversation this evenirf had done me a great deal o' good." XV. ^\tmnfsia ^autlu)iH tffittblul- " Q J]B here, Aiint Bedott, here's anotlier poem by ^ Hugelina." "Is, hey? "What's she groanin' about now? be- witched to die yet ?" " No — ^it seems to be a sort of a lament occasioned by Elder Sniffles's sickness." " You don't I now what a bare-faced critter she is to come right out so in the face and eyes of all creation — ain't it astonishin' ? She 's purty late in the da5" tew with her lamentin' — the elder's got about agin — preached last Sabberday." " Yes ; but you know he was laid up Sunday before last — and I suppose they dident get the poetry in time to bring it out last week." " "Well dew read it, for pity's sake — ^I want to hear what the critter says." SONNET. 0, lyre of mine, divulge thy saddest strain In melanolioly thunder-tones of woe ! In gloomiest accents deep of quivering pain, Thy mournful numhers on the midnight throw 1 A direful theme demands thy anguished flow : CONCLUDES TO PUBLISH. 153 For sighing on his lonely conoli of grief, Truth's champion languishetli without relief! Yon vacant, voiceless desk proclaims aloud The absence of his eloquential tongue. Which held in wondering chains the admiring crowd. And carried conviction both to old and young. The arduous duties of his sacred calling Have caused this casuallity appalling. While in dark weeds of crape my wailing Jyre is hnng) 1 , HCSELINA. " Well now, if tliat don't beat all! did you ever see any thing so redickilotis in all your born days ? you may talk as much as you 're a mind tew about ' hidden meanin'.' I believe if there 's any meanin' at all in a thing it '11 show out some wher — and for my part, I can't see a speck nor grain o' sense in that are piece. "What on arth does the simpleton mean by blazin' .^away so about her 'liar' and its 'thunder tones' and ' mournin! weeds,' and all that? I should think Elder Sniffles would feel insulted by such a mess o' stuff — shouldent you ?" " 0, no, I dare say he '11 consider it quite compli- mentary ; don't you see she talks about his eloquence • — drawing admiring crowds, and so forth ? I guess she means to catch the elder if she can ; any how she seems to be making a dead set at him, and I should n't wonder if she should succeed." "Well, if Sal Hugle ketches Elder Snifttes with' such trash as that, I 'U give it up that 's all ; but I don't bleve she wUl : he ain't so big a fool as to have the wool drawd over his eyes in that way." -7* 154 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. " But you know she may possess other attractions besides her poetical talents." " Other attractions ! goody grievous ! I wonder what they be ! Of all created critters she 'a the dizagree- ablest I ever see, and so awfully humbly I shouldent think she could feel comfortable. I guess she 's one o' them that 's tew humbly to relish ther vittals. But for all that, I bleve she thinks she 's quite handsome. "What a way she's got o' fixin' her hair — them great long stringlets a dang] in' down her cheeks — ^her phiz- mahogany's narrer enough without 'em, I 'm sure. I met her yisterd^y as I was gwine to the store, and 't was as much as I could dew to keep from bustin' right out a laughin' in her face. She had on that are everlastin' red hood that shows the. huO. o' her face, and her carls was a streamin' down over the corners of her mouth, so 't a body 'd a ben pestered to tell how far round it went; and she^was a sahn' along like a goose in a mud puddle, with her great eyes a starin' straight at nothin'. She 's got a way o' lookin' as if she was gazin' into fatewrity." "That's a mark of genius, you know — a sign that she lives in the shadowy regions of imagina- tion—" " Shaddery fiddle-stick?" " She was probably composing a sonnet when you met her." " Shoudent wonder if she was — she looked as if OONCLTTDES TO PUBLISH. 155 she was occupied witli sometliin' despirit. "Well, if I couldent make out better 'n slie does, I 'd hang up my fiddle— that 's aU !" "Well, aunty, wliy don't you write some poetry for the 'Luminary?' come,- suppose you try your hand at it — you 're great on poetry." " O, I don't feel wUlin' to make myself so con- spioiwus." " fadge ! that 's nonsense — every one ought to be willing to exercise their gift, you know." " Well, it does look reasonable, but your mar always discourages me about writin' poitry." " What of that ? father and I don't, and I 'm sure we 're quite as competent judges as mother is. Come now, if you '11 write a piece of poetry I 'U take it to the 'Luminary' to-morrow, before I go back to Coon- ville. I know you can beat HugeUna. Mother need n't know any thing about it till it comes out, and then she can't help herself." " Well, I don't know but what I will. I 've got a piece begun that I {hink 's about as' good as any thin' I 've writ in some time. Mabby I 'U finish that off and send it." "What's the subject?" " Well, it treats o' the onsartainty o' terrestrious things. 'Twas occasioned by a -remark in the first sarmon I ever heard Elder Sniffles preach. You know 156 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. he spoke o' our bein' onaMe to calkilate witli any degree o' sartainty." " yes, I remember it very well ; that woiild be a first-rate subject to write upon." "I begin by alludin' to the elder's sarmon, and tben I goes on to testify to the truth on 't by showin' how diffikilt 't is to make any kind . o' calkilatiop about any thing, bein' as all things of a transiterry natur is so onsartin. But I 'U go get it and show it tew ye^ and then you can see for yourself. Here 't is." (Jeff reads it.) " That's capital, Aunt Silly. Send it by all means. I '11 copy it off in a larger hand, so that it can be read more easUy. And what shall we call it ? Suppose we entitle it " Can't Calculate." " Well, I should think that would be very appro- briate." " On second thoughts, I guess we '11 just call it ' K. K.' -^that stands for 'can't calculate,' you know — and there '11 be something striking and original about it, too." " Jjsst so. Well, you may fix it out as you 're a mind to — ^but I '11 take it and add on a few more gtanzys first." " O no, you need n't, it 's plenty long enough — they don't like to print long articles." "Don't, hey ? Well, it seems as if 't wa'n't hardly long enough to pay a body for the trouble o' readin' on 't." CONCLUDES TO PUBLISH. 157 " Yes it is. It is n't so much the length of a poem as the excellence of it that folks look at, you know." " Well, I don't know but you 're right, though I remember how 't Zebidee Higgins used to write very long pieces. He writ a good deal for the ' "Wiggle- town Banner,' and when Minarvy Pike died he writ a piece on her death, and had it printed alone by itself on a big sheet o' paper, and sold 'em for a shillin' apiece. Ther was risin' a hundred rarses on't. I remember when he was a carryin' 'em around to sell, he come t' our house, and husband bought one. When he see how long 't was, he says, says he to Zeb, ' Why, Zebidee, what was yer object in havin' on't so long?' Says Zeb, says he, 'Don't ye s'pose I wanted folks should git the worth o' their money ?' But as I don't charge nothin' for this ere, 't ain't so much matter about its length, I s^pose. There, yer piar 's a comin', stick it away for pity's sake." * * * * * * » [Messrs. Gamble and Spratt, editors of the " Scrab- ble HiU Luminary," discuss the merits of the widow's poem.j ■ "See here, Gamble. What d'ye think! that hatchet-faced old woman down at Maguire's has sent us a piece o' poetry." . " The dogs, she has ! WeU, I swow I am beat now. She looks as little like the votary of the muses as any body I ever saw. What for poetry is it ?" 158 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. ."I '11 be bound if I know wbat to make of it, and so I told Jeff Maguire, wbo handed it in just now. Jeff says slie 's quite an eccentric cbaracter, and I sbould tbink so by tbis. I don't know what 's best to do about it." [Gramble reads it] "Jupiter I that 's rich, ain't it?" , ' ' Don't exactly like to reject it — don't want to make her mad — ^they say she 's rich as mud — 'liyin' on the interest of her money. What shall we do with the thundering stuff?" " Why, print it, to be sure. I '11 write a puff for it. I 'm great on editorials, you know." "Are you in earnest. Gamble?" " Certainly I am. I think there 's more sense in it than there is in Miss Hugle's poetry, and you never hesitate at all about accepting any thing from her." " But hers sounds big, yqji know, and half the folks in the world thinks that ^sipoetry whether ther *s any sense in it or not." " I know it, but ' Hugelina' is the only poetical con- tributor we have, and she 's almost worn out. I 've puffed her and puffed her tiU I am almost tired of the business. I should like a change. There 's something decidedly hew about this. You leave it to me, I '11 manage it. I confess you 're greater on politics, and so forth, than I am, but it takes me to do up the fine arts." "Jeff seemed to be sorry not to find you in when 41 CONCLUDES TO PUBLISH. 159 became. I suppose he saw that I hesitated a little about taking it, and he knew you wouldn't — ^you 're both of you up to all sorts of deviltry^-but he looked as serious as a parson. I '11 be hanged if I know whether he was in earnest about wishing us to publish this plaguy stuff or not." , " In earnest ? of course he was. If he was n't, I am. I never interfere with your department, and you ought not to with mine. My voice is for the old gal — so, hurra for the ' Editor's comments.' " "It affords us the most indubitable pleasure to be able to enrich^our ' Poet's Corner' of this week's Lumi- nary with a gem from the pen of a new contributor. The extreme simphcity of the diction presents a strik- ing contrast to the more highly wrought and elabo- rate style of OUT own gifted ' Hugelina,' and strongly reminds one of the effusions of the early masters of English poesy, when the muse was in. her pristine pmaty. All worshipers of the truthful — ^the pure — the earnest and the unadorned in poetry, will rejoice with us that a brighter day appears about to dawn upon our poetical horizon, and that the time is proba- bly not far distant when nature shall assert her supreme acy over art in the dominions of the muse. We hope to hear often from our fair correspondent." 160 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. K. K. — can't calculate. What poor Bliorb-sighted''worms w.e 1)6 — Por we can't calculate With, any sort of sartintee, What is to he our fate. These words Prissilla's heart did reaoh And caused her tears to flow, When first she, heard the elder preach Ahout six mouths ago. How true it is what he did state, And thus affected her, That nohody can't calculate What is a gwine to occur. When we retire, can't calculate But what afore the morn Our housen will conflaggerate And we he left forlorn. Can't calculate when we come in From ary neighhorin' place, yfhefh&T we '11 ever go out agin To look on natur's face. Can't calculate upon the weather, It always changes so ; Hain't got no means of telling whether It 'b gwine to raiu or snow. Can't calculate with no precision On naught beneath the sky ; And so I 've come to the decision, That 't ain't worth while to try. PsissnxA. XVI. " O AY, sister Magwire, can't you spend time jest to ' come here a minnit and look at my caps. I want to ax yon wliicli I 'd better wear to-day. I don't want to wear it to meetin', cause my bunnit would jam it all down — ^but I want to make up my mind aforeband about it so 's not to lose no time wben I git bum. Come quick, dew — ^tbe bell '11 ring in a minnit. 0, bere ye be ; well, now tell, wbicb o' tbese caps is tbe becominest." " Why, you 've got a regiment on 'em seems to me." " Yes ; I 'm well on 't for caps — ^but tbe balf on 'em was giv' tew me. Here 's one, though, 't I made my- self. I wore it to Kier's weddin'. How does it look ?" (Sbe puts it on.) " Somehow, I don't like that much— it sticks up tew high on top : and then them yaller bows looks -so kind o' darin^ ; and then them red artifishels is ruther extensive. I reckon you look better without artifishels." " Well, lemme try on this ere ; Melissy gin it tew me. I always thought 't was quite becomin'." 162 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. " Well, I don't agree with ye, Silly. I think there 's tew much ribbin on't — pink ribbin tew; don't you think pink ribbin 's a'most tew young for you?" " O, dretful suz, Melissy ! what foolish idees you 've got 1^ — ^you 're always a takin' me to dew about dressin' tew young. "What 's the use o' makin' an old woman o' myself afore I he one ? But come to think, this would be ruther dressy for to-day, seein' the minister 's a comin'. See 'f ye like this ere any better — ''t was a present from Sam Pendergrasses wife, not long afore I come away. I never wore it but- once." " "Well I reckon that looks woss than the pink one — ^blue makes you look kind o' sguawy:; you 're rather dark complected ; and blue 's a tryin color for dark skins." ""Well, I never thought I was so wonderfiil dark complected, I 'm sure. I wonder if this one 'U suit y» any better. Kier's wife gin it tew me. I hain't never wore it .at all; thought I shouldent, 'cause it's so turrible old-womanish and quakery. I fetcht it along, cause I thought mabby Seliny 'd be mad. if I dident — but I don't see what on arth she meant by givin' me such a Ipokin' thing." " Now, Silly, I don't see how you can talk so — for my part, I like that better 'n ary one you 've tried on. That are white satin trimmin' looks so kind o' neat and plain. It 's a purty shape tew — comes down fur- der 'n the others onto yer face — and that 's an ica- THANKSGIVING DAT. 163 provement, bein' as yon 're ruther long-favored. I 'd wear that "by all means. Silly." " You would ! — well now I am beat — ^wby tber ain't a color about it but white." "All the better for that; it's enough ginteeler'n them flambergasted blue and yaller ihings ; and then the elder 's a comin', ye know." "Jest so ; well I guess I wiU wear it considerin' — " "And yer black sUk gownd and muslin under- handkercher — you look best in them of any thing you 've got.'' "Well, I don't know but what I will — 'murder! there 's the bell, and I hain't begun to be ready ; never mind, I won't dress till I git hum ; this ere allipacker looks well enough to wear to meetin'. I 'U jest throw on my manMller and bunnit — ''t won't take me long ; wish you could go Melissy^ — ^but I know ye can't and git dinner tew; the elder 's a gwine to preach in your meetin'-house, hey ? — well, that looks brotherly ; Bap- tists preach in your meetin'-house one year — and your minister preach in theirn the next — ^I like the idee. Is my bunnit on strait? This glass makes me look kind o' skew-jawed — ^never know whether my things is in decent order and reglar rotation or not, when I git 'em on. How does this ere scarf go ? Where 's brother Magwire and Jeff, I wonder ? How thought- ful 't was in Jeff to ax the elder here to dinner — ^he 'd a ben so lonesome to hum all alone. Melissy, I begin 164 WIDO-W BEDOTT PAPEES. tb have coBsiderable hopes o' Jeff— shouldent wonder if lie should turn out quite a stiddy man aflBr alL Here they come." » * * * * * " Elder Sniffles, let me give you another piece o' the turkey." "I'm obleeged to you, Mr. Maguire; youprobahly recollect that I remarked in my discourse this morn- ing, that individuals were too prone to indulge in an excessive indulgence in creature comforts on thanks- giving occasions. In view of the lamentable fact that -the sin of gormandizing is carried to a sinful excess on this day, I, as a preacher of the Gospel, deem it my duty to be unusually abstemious on such occasions : nevertheless, considering the peculiar circumstances tinder which I am placed this day, I think I will waive objections and take another small portion of the turkey." " That 's right elder — what part will you take now ?" " Well, I 'm not particular-; a small quantity of the breast, with a part of a leg and some of the stuffing, . will be quite suf^ient." « "Pass the cramberries to Elder Sniffles, Jeff— elder help yourself; wife give the elder some more o' the turnip sass and potater." " Thank you, Mrs. Maguire. I am an advocate for a vegetable diet— and have always maintained that it THANKSGIVING DAY. 165 ia more congexiial to individuals of sedentary habits and intellectual pursuits Kke myself, than animal food." " Jeff, my son, pass the bread. Sister Bedott send your plate for some more o' the turkey." "■No, I 'm obleeged to ye^ — ^I Ve had sufBcient." " Jeff, cut the chicken pie." " Sure enough — ^I almost forgot that I was to carve the pie — Aunt SiUyyou 'U take a piece of it, won't you?" " "Well, I don't care if I dew take a leetle mite on 't. I 'm a great favoryte o' chicken pie — always thought 't was a delightful .beverage — don't you Elder Snif- fles?" " A very just remark, Mrs. Bedott — very indeed ; chicken pie is truly a very desirable article of food." " Allow me to help you to some of it, elder." " Thank you, my young friend ; as I before remark- ed, I am entirely opposed to an immoderate indulgence of the appetite at all times, but particularly on thanks- giving occasions — and am myself always somewhat abstemious. However, I consider it my duty at the present time to depart, to some extent, from the usual simplicity of my diet. I will, therefore comply with your request and partake of the chicken pie." " Take some more o' the cramberry sass, elder : cramberries is hulsome." " A very just remark, Mrs. Maguire — they are so ; 166 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. nevertheless, I maintain that we should mot indnlge too freely in even the most wholesome of creature comforts ; however, since you desire it, I will take a small portion more of the cranberries." " Husband, dew pass that pickled tongue — ^it hain't been touched — take some on 't Elder Snifles." " I 'm obliged to you, l\Irs. Maguire — ^but I confess I am somewhat fearful of taking articles of that de- scription upon my stomach, as they create a degree of acidity which is incompatible with digestion. Is it not so my young friend ? You are undoubtedly pre- pared to decide, as you are, I believe,_ pursuing the study of the medical science." " I think you are altogether mistaken. Elder Snif- fles. We should always take a due proportion of acid jWith our food, in order to preserve the equilibrium of the internal economy, and produce that degree of effervescence which is necessary to a healthy secre- tion." " Exactly. Your views of the subject is one which never struck me before ; it seems a very just one. I will partake of the pickled tongue in consideration of your remarks." " Take a slice on 't, Sister Bedott. You seem to need some tongue to-day — ^you 're oncommon still." " What a musical man you be, brother Magwire ! but it strikes me when an indiwiddiwal has an oppor- tunity o' hearin' intellectible conversation they 'd bet- THANKSGIVIKG DAY. 167 ter keep still and improve it. Ain't it so, Elder Sniffles?" " A very just remark, Mrs. Bedott ; and one wliich has often occurred to my own mind." " Take some more of the cMcken pie, Elder Snif- fles." " Excuse me, my young friend ; I will take notMng more." " What ! you dont't mean to give it up yet, I kope, elder." " Indeed, Mr. Maguire, I assure you I would ratter not take any thing more, for as I before remarked, I am decidedly opposed to excessive eating upon this day." "Well, then, we'll have the pies and puddins. Jeff, my son, fly round and help your mar change the plates. I '11 take the puddin, Melissy' — ^you may tend to the pies. Jeff set on the cider. So here 's a plum- puddin' — it looks nice — I guess you 've had good-luck to-day wife. Sister Bedott, you '11 have some on 't ?" " No ; I 'm obleeged to ye. I 've got ruther of a head-ache to-day, and plum puddin's rich. I guess I '11 take a small piece o' the punMn pie." " Elder Sniffles, you '11 be helped to some on 't of course ?" "Indeed, Mr. Maguire, the practice of indulging in articles of this description after eating meat is esteem- ed, highly pernicious, and I inwardly protest against 168 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. it; furthermore, as Mrs. Bedott has very justly re- marked, plum pudding is ricli— however, considering the pecuHar circjumstances of the occasion, I •wUl for once overstep the boundaries which I have prescribed for myself." " Am I to understand that you'll have somej or not?" "I will partake, in. consideration of time and place." "Jimmenil wife, this is good puddin' as I ever eat." " Elder Sniffles, wUl you take some o' the pie — ^here is a mince pie and punkin pie." " I will take a small portion of the pumpkin pie if you please, Mrs. Maguire, as I consider it highly nu- tritious ; but, as regards the mince pie, it is an article of food whifch I deem ■ excessively fleleterious to the constitution, inasmuch as it is composed of so great a variety of ingredients. I esteem it exceedingly difficult of digestion. Is it not so my young friend ?" " By no means, elder ; quite the contrary—and the reason is obvious. Observe, elder — ^it is cut into the most minute particles ; hence it, naturally follows, that being, as it were, completely calcined before it enters the system — ^it leaves, so to speak, no labor to be per- formed by the digestive organs, and it is disposed of without the slightest difficulty." " Ah, indeed 1 your reasoning is quite new to me — THANKSGIVING DAT. 169 yet I confess it to be most satisfactory and lucid. In consideration of its facility of digestion I wUl partake also of the mince pie." " Wife, fin the elder a glass o' cider." " Dfesist ! Mrs. Magnire, desist7 1 entreat you I I in- variably set my face like a flint agaiast tbe use of all intoxicating liquors as a beverage." " Jimmeni ! you don't mean to call new cider an in- toxicatin' liquor, I hope. Why, man alive, it 's jest made — ^hain't begun to work." " Nevertheless, I believe it to be exceedingly insa- lubrious, and detrimental to the system. Is not that its. nature, my young friend?" " Far from it, elder — ^far &om it. Eeflect a moment and you will readUy perceive, that being the pure juice of the apple — wholly free from all alcoholic mixture — it possesses all the nutritive properties of the fruit, with the advantage of being in a more condensed form, which at once renders it much more agreeable, and facilitates assimilation." " Very reasonable — very reasonable, indeed. Mrs. Maguire you may fill my glass." " Take another slice o' the puddiu'. Elder Sniffles." " No more, I 'm obliged to you, Mr. Maguire." " Well, won't you behelped to some more o' the pie?" " No more, I thank you, Mr. Maguire." 8 170 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEBS. "But you'll take another glass o' cider, won't you ?" " In consideration of tlie nutritious properties of new cider, which your son has abundantly shown to exist, I will permit you to replenish my glass." " So you won't take nothin' more, -elder ?" " Nothing more, my friends — ^nothing more what- soever — ^for as I have several times remarked during the repast, I am an individual of exceedingly abste- mious habits — endeavoring to enforce by example that which I so strenuously enjoin by precept from the pulpit, to wit — ^temperance in all thing." " Walk into the sitting room, elder. Mother '11 have to excuse us for a while. Aunt Bedott, you 'U give us your company, won't you ?" "Sartainly." " Father, are you not coming?"- " Not now, Jeff. I 've got to go out for a spell. I '11 try to be in soon." " Take this arm-cheer by the stove. Elder Sniffles — the room 's got ruther cool ; Jefferson, can't you accumelate the fire a little ?" "It strikes me very forcibly, Mrs. Bedott, that the weather is somewhat cool for the season of the year." "So it strikes me tew; but I think this is quite a cool climit — appearently considerably cooler 'n Wig- gletown." THANKSGIVING DAT. 171 " Why no, aunty-^there can't be any difference in tlie climate — tlie latitude 's just the same." " I guess not, Jeff— what is the latitude o' Scrabble Hill?" " Oh, it 's about forty-two." " Lawful sakes ! our 'n in Wiggletown 's as much as fifty, and sometimes in the summer ticae it gits up as high as sixty or seventy." "Ah! indeed! you surprise me, Mrs. Bedott, Speaking of Wiggletown — ^is- that your place of residence?" " It is so — ^the place where the heft o' my life has ben spent." " In what section of the country is it located ?" "It's sitiwated between Granderfield and Tuckertown, Slammerkin' crick runs along the south side on 't." " Ah, yes, I comprehend ; I think I have an iadia- criminate recollection of the place. If I am not mis- taken I journeyed through it some two years since, in company with my companion (now deceased), on a visit to her relatives in that section." " H-o-o-o 1 how you talk I that journey must be a mellancoUy subjick o' reflection noW' — 'how little you thought then that in tew year you'd be called to mourn her departer ! how onsartin' the ftitur is !" " True — a very just remark, Mrs. Bedott, very, in- deed — we are sojourners in a world of fluctuation 1" " 0, Elder Smffles— how true that is I" 172 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. " One moment tossed on tlie billows of prosperity and joy, and the next plunged into the abysses of desperation and despair." " 0, Elder Sniffles, what a striMn' remark ; every^ wotd you say goes to the bottom o' my heart. I tew mourn the loss of a pardner, and bein' as we 're simi- larly sittiwated, I feel as if we could sympathize with one another. You hain't no children — ^I ' ve got tew, but they 're married and settled, and I 'm as good as alone in the world. It 's a tryin' sittiwation — ^very tryin'." " It is so, Mrs. Bedott — ^your remark is a very jiist one — very, indeed — ^your situation is undoubtedly a trying one — ^but you are in easy circumstances, I believe ?" " Why, yes, ginerally speakin' I be purty easy, though sometimes I'm ruther oweasy when I think o' the futur — I was wonderfully struck with a remark in your sarmon- this mornin' — ^it described my feelins so egzaddy." " Allow me to inquire what that remark was, Mrs. Bedott?" [The conversation is here interrupted by the en- trance of Mr. and Mrs. Maguire]. "Well, elder, how do you come on — ^time pass agreeably ?" "Most agreeably, Mr. Maguire, most agreeably, in conversation with Mrs. Bedott." " Glad on 't — Jeff, here 's the last ' Luminary,' want it? I 've read it purty much all, exceptin' the poetry." THANKSGITIM-G DAT. 173 " Does it contain a poem by 'Hugeliua?' If so, per- mit me to request you to favor us with it, my young friend. She is indeed a most extraordinary writer." " She is, that 's a fact — Jeff, less have it." (Jeff reads)— " Those of our readers who are in any degree imbued with a love of the poetic — with an appreciation of the sublime and beautiful — will find a rich treat in the following exquisite lines from the pen of our highly gifted correspondent ' Hugelina.' Aside from the high degree of finish which her effusions always possess, the ensuing lines breathe a spirit of world- weariness and self abandonment ex,ceedingly touching. SONNET. Oblivion ! stretoli thine everlasting wings, And liide from human gaze my mournful lyre — For while my earth-worn, weary spirit sings, I frequently feel desirous to esrpire. 5 It is no vain and vanishing desire, But a oompulsatory wish tharseems To mingle nightly in my visioned dreams — A wish to leave, this uncongenial sphere, Which souls like mine are apt to ind so drear. for a residence in jonder orb Which doth the affections of my soul absorb I My spirit seeks in vain for sympathy here ; 1 feel aa I have never felt before — The one wild, withering wish — to die and be no more ! " A splendid production, truly — ^but does it not Strike you Mrs. Maguire, that there is a slight degree of obscurity in the poem ?" , 174 "WIDO-W BEDOTT PAPEES. " don't ax me — ^I can't make head, nor tail on 't — what's your opinion, Jefferson?" " "Well, I tMnk that the obscurity of which Elder Sniffles complains constitutes the greatest beauty of the poem. Don't you know, elder, we are never deeply interested in any thing that we can compre- hend at the first glance. , There must be some liiystery, some hidden raeaning to excite at once oiir curiosity and admiration' — Shakespeare' himself often writes obscurely, you know." " Shakespeare ! that is an author that I am not conversant with. What does he principally treat of?" " O, theology, and metaphysics, and so forth." "Ah, yes, I recollect now*— I think I have seen some of his sermons. On consideration, your reason- ing in relation to the poem strikes me as quite con- clusive. There should |)e — as you very justly re- mark — a hidden meaning to create an interest in any thing of that description." ""Well, then, that poitry must be awful interestin', for all the meanin' ther is in 't is hid, and no mistake — don't you say so, husband ?" " 0, I ain't no j'udge o' poitry — ax sister Bedott, she knows all about poitry, writes bags on 't." "Ah, indeed! is it true, Mrs. Bedott, that you cul- tivate the poetic art ?" " "Well, HairUtfor me to say." XVII. lihto xttxxts Iff K irato m i\t xmx 0f €M MM 3msL O HE sits down on a log and sings in a plaintive voice, Ere love had teadied my teara to flow, I> was onoommon oherful, But now Buoli misery I dew know I 'm always sad and ferfnL "What peaoefui hours I once enjoyed, All on a Bummer's day 1 But 0, my comforts was destroyed, When Sbadrack crossed my way 1 I heerd him preach — I heerd him pray — I heerd him sweetly sing, Dear suz 1 how I did feel that day i It was a dretfui thing 1 Full forty dollars would I give, If.we'd continnerd apart — For though he 's made my sperrit live. He 's surely bust my heart I (She sigEs profoundly — and the elder advances un- expectedly.) " Good gracious ! is that you, Elder Sniffles ! how 176 -WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. you did scare me ! Never was so flustrated in a]l tlie days o' my life I hadent the most remotest idee o' meetin you here^ — -wouldent a come for forty dollars if I 'd a s'posed you ever meander'd here. I never was here afore — ^but I was a settin' by my winder and I cast my eyes over here, and as I ohsarved the lofty trees a wavin' in the gentle blast, and heefd the feath- ered singsters a wobblin' their mellancoUy music, I felt quite a call to come over, it's so retired and mo- rantic — such an approbriate place to marvel round in, ye know, when a body feels low sperrited and uncon- solable, as I dew to-night. 0, d-e-a-r !" " Most worthy Mrs. Bedott, your evident depression fills me with unmitigated sympathy. Your feelings, (if I may be permitted to judge ftom the language of your song, which I overheard") — " You dident though, elder ! the dretful suz ! what shall I dew ! I wouldent a had you heerd that song for no money ! I wish I hadent a come ! I wish to gracious- 1 hadent a come !" " I assure you, Mrs. Bedott, it was unintentional on my part, entirely unintentional, but my contiguity to yourself, and your proximity to me, were such as ren- dered it impossible for me to avoid hearing you — " " Well, it can't be helped now, it 's no use cryin' for spilt milk, but I wouldent hev you to think I know'd you ever come here." , " On the comtrary, this grove is a favorite resort, of THE WIDOW RETIRES TO A GROVE. 177 mine ; it affords a congenial retreat after the extermi- nating and tremendous mental labors of the day. I ,not Tinfrequently spend the declining hours of the evening here, buried in the most profound meditation. On your entrance, I was occupying my customary seat beneath that umbrageous mounting ash -which you perceive a few feet from you: indeed, had not your mind been much pre-oocupied, you could scarcely have avoided discovering me." " 0, granf ther grievous ! I wish I 'd 'a stayed to hum I I was born for misfortin' and nothin' else ! I wish to massy I 'd a stayed to hum to-night ! but I felt as if I 'd like to come here once afore I leave the place." (She we^s.) "Ahl indeed 1 do you preject leaving Scrabble HlU?" " Yes, I dew, I calklate to go next week. I must hear you preach once more — once more, elder, and then I 'm agwine — somewher-^I don't care where, nor I don't care what becomes o' me when I git there." (She sobs violently.) 1' 0, Mrs. Bedott, you distress me beyond limitation — ^permit me to inquire the cause of this uncontrolla- ble agony ?" " 0, Elder Sniffles, you 're the last indiwiddiwal that ought to ax such a question. 0, I shall diel I shall give it up I" " Madam, my interest in your welfare is intense, al- 8* 178 WIDOW BEDOTT f APEES. low me to entreat you still more vehemently to un- burden your mind, perhaps it is in my power to re- lieve you." " Eelieve me ! what an idee ! 0, elder, you will be the death o' me if you make me revulge my feelins so. An hour ago, I felt as if I 'd a' died afore I 'da said what I hev said now, but you ve draw'd it out o' me." "Eespected madam; you have as yet promulged nothing satisfactory, permit me — " "0, granf'ther grievous! must I come to't! well then, if I must, I must, so to begin at the beginhin''. "When I fust heern you preach, your sarmons onset- tied my faith ; but after a spell I was convinced by yer argefyin', and gin up my 'roneus notions, and my mind got considerable carm. But how could I set Sabberday after Sabberday under the droppin's o' yer voice, and not begin to feel a mor 'n ordinary interest in the speaker ? I indevored not tew, but I couldent help it ; 't was in vain to struggle against the feelins that prepossest my buzzom. But it's all over with me now ! my fehcitude is at an eend I my sittiwation is hopeless I I shall go back to Wiggletown next week an,d never truble you no more." " Ah, Mrs. Bedott, you alarm — " " Yes, you never '11 see no more trouble with Pris- silly. I 'm agwine back to Wiggleton, Can't bear to go back there nother, on account o' the indiwiddi- wals that I come away to git rid of. There 's Oappen THE WIDOW EETIEES TO A GEOVE. 179 Canoot, lie 's always been after me ever since my Iras- band died, thougli I hain't never gin him no incnr- ridgement — ^but lie won't take no for an answer. I dread the critter's attentions. And Squire Bailey — ■ he 's wonderful rich — ^but that ain't no recommendation to me, and I 've told him so time and agin, but I s'pose he thinks I '11 come"^ round bumby. And Deacon Crosby, he lost his pardner a spell afore I come away, he was very much pleased with me, he 's a wonderful fine man — ^make a fast rate-husband. I kind o' hesi- tated when he promulgated his sentiments tew me, told him I 'd think on 't till I come back — s'pose he '11 be at me as soon as I git there. I hate to disappoint Deacon Crosby, he 's such a fine man, and my dezeased companion sot so much by him, but then I don't feel for him, as I dew for . He 's a Presbyterian tew, and I don't think 't would be right to unite my desti- nation to hisen." " Undoubtedly in your^ present state of feeling, the uncongeniaHty would render a union — " " 0, dear, dear, dear 1 I can't bear to go back there and'iudure their attentions, but thank fortune, they won't bother me long — I shall go into a decline, I know t shall, as well as I, want to know it. , My troub- les '11 soon be over — ondoubtedly they '11 put up a monnyment to my memory — ^I 've got the disoriptioa all ready for 't — ^it says, 180 "WIDOW BEDOTT PA'PEES. Here sleeps Prissilly P. Bedott, Late relic of Hezekier, , How mellanoolly was her, lot 1 How soon she did expii'e ! She did n't commit self-snieide, 'Twas tribbilation killed her, 0, what a pity she had nt a' died , Afore she saw the elder !— And 0, elder, you '11 visit my grave, won't je, and shed tew or tliree tears over it? 'T would be a' con- solation tew me to tMnk you would." " In case I should ever_ have occasion to journey thro' that section of country, and could consistently with my arrangements make it convenient to tarry for a short time at Wiggletown, I assure you it would af- ford me much pleasure to visit your grave agreeably to your request." "0, elder, how onfeelin' 1" " Unfeeling ! did I not understand you correctly when I understood you to request me to visit your grave?" " Yes, but I don't see how you can be so carm, when I 'm a talkin' about dyin'." - " I assure you, Mrs. Bedott, I had not the slightest intention of manifesting a want of feeling in my re- mark. I should regard your demise as a most deplor- able event, and it would afford me no small degree of satisfaction to prevent so melancholy a catastrophe were it in my power." THE WIDOW EETIEE3 TO A GBOVE. 181 "Well, I guess I'U go hum. If Sally should tno-w you was here a talkin' with me, she 'd make an awful fuss." •;, " Indeed, I see no reason to fear that my domestic should interfere in any of my proceedings." " 0, lawful sakes I how numb you be, elder ! I dident illude to Sal Blake — I meant Sal Hugle, she't you 're ingaged tew." "Engaged to Miss Hugle! you alarm me, Mrs. Be—" "Now don't undertake to deny it, elder; every body says it 's a fact." " Well, then, it only remains for me to assert that every body is laboring under an entire and unmitigat- ed mistake." " You don't say so, elder ! well, I declare I dew feel relieved. I couldent indure the idee o' stayin' here to see that match go oS. She 's so onworthy — so dif- ferent from what your companion had ought to be — and so lazy — and makes such awful poitry ; and then, she hain't worth a cent in the world. But I don't want to say a word aginst her ; for if you ain't in- gaged now, mabby you will be. 0, elder ! promise me, dew promise me how 't you won't marry that critter. 'T would be a consolation tew me when I 'm fur away on my dyin' bed, to know — " [she weeps with renewed energy.] *■' 0, elder, I 'm afreard I 'm a gwine to hev the highsterics. I 'm subjick to 182 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. spasmatic aflPections Trlien I 'm excited and over- come." "You alaxm me, Mrs. Bedott! I will hasten to the house, and bring the sal volatile, which may restore you." "For the land's sake, elder, don't go after Sal; she can't dew nothing for me. It '11 only make talk, for she '11 tell it all round the village. Jest take that are newspaper that sticks out o' yer pocket, and fan me with it a leetle. There — I feel quite resusticated. I'm obleeged tew ye ; guess I can manage to git hum now." [She rises.] "Farewell, Elder Sniffles 1 adoo! we part to meet no more !" "Ah, Mrs. Bedott! do not speak in that mournful strain ; you distress me beyond all mitigation" — [he takes her hand] " pray reseat yourself, and allow me to prolong the conversation for a short period. As I before observed, your language distresses me^beyond all duration." " Dew you actilly feel distressed at the idee o' part- in' with me ?" " Most indubitably, Mrs. Bedott." "Well, then, what's the use o' partin' at all? 0, what hev I said! what hev 1 said!" " Ahem — ahaw ! allow me to inquire— are you in easy circumstances, Mrs. Bedott ?" THE WIDOW EETIEES TO A GROVE. 183 " Well, not intirely, yet ; thougli I feel considerable easier 'n wliat I did a^ Houf ago." " Ahem 1 I imagina that you do not fully apprehend my meaning. I am a clergyman — a laborer in the vineyard of the Lord — ag such yon will readily un-, derstand I can not be supposed to abound in the filthy lucre of this world; my remuneration is small — hence — "' " O, elder, how can you s'pose I 'd hesitate on ac- count o' your bein' poor? Don't think on^t — it only increases my opinion of you ; money ain't no objiok to me." " I na,turally infer from your indifference respecting the amount of my worldly possessions, that you your- self have — " "Don't' be oneasy, elder, dear — don't illude tew it again ; depend on 't you 're jest as dear to me, every bit and grain, as you would be if you owned all the mines of Ingy." " I will say no more about it." " So I s'pose we' re engaged." "Undoubtedly." " "We 're ingaged, and my tribbilation is at an end." [Her head droops on his shoulder.] " 0, Sh^drack 1 what will Hugelina say when she hears on 't ?" XVIII. Deae Melissy : — T NOW take, my pen in hand to. tell you tliat I rutlier gness you '11 be considerably astonislied ■wben you read what I set down to rite. I Ve got some news to tell, that you can't guess if you try till next never, so you may as well give it up furst.as last afore you begin. And you ain't to let on a word about it only to Jubiter and Kier and Seliuy. Come to think, I don't care if you tell Sam Pendergrasses wife, bein' as how she 's a partickler friend o' mine. But don't. you open yer head about it to no other indiwiddiwal — ^for I want to supprise the Wiggletown folks, and make 'em open ther eyes a leetle. Come to considder, I guess you 'd better not tell Miss Pen- dergrass, for I 'm afeard she can't keep it to herseE She might let it out to the Kenipes, and they'd teU the Crosbys, and the Crosbys they 'd carry it strait to Major Coon's wife, and she 'd be sure to teU old Daw- son's wife (the widder Jinkins that was — she 't was WRITES TO HEE DAUGHTER. 185 Poll Bingham), and site 's the verry undentical person I want to ieep it from till it busts upon her all of a suddijig, like a thunder-clap. I guess I'll let her know 't I can hold my head as high as hem in futur, for who did she git but a decrippid old bung hea(^ that she wquldent a had if she could a got any body else. I guess on the hull you hadent better say noth- in' ■ about it to Kier's wife, for fear she '11 tell her folks, and they '11 sartinly devulgate it all round. If you dew tell her, you make her promise she won't tint a sillyble about it to her step-mother — she 't was Kesier Winkle — nor to nobody else. You must aU keep it a perfound secret till I come. If nothin' happens to pervent, we shall be in Wiggletown next week, a Saturday, on our bridal tewer. A Simday mornin' we calkHate to go to meetin' along a you and Jubiter, and in the afternoon we shall tend the Baptist meetin'. I tell ye won't ther be some starin' in Wiggletown that day. I guess they 'U find out that I 'm as good as enny on 'em if not a leetle better. I shan't her on none o' the things they 've ever seen me wear. My riggin 's to be iatirely new. Yer Uncle Magwire_has made me a present of a hansome green merino dress, and yer Aunt Magwire has gi'n me a new brown velvet bunnit, and yer Cousin Jefferson has presented me an elegant plaid shawl, and I calkilate to come out in 'em all in Wiggletown. Speakin' o' my new wardrobes, reminds me to tell 186 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. you that if Jabe Clark comes your way a peddlin', not to trade a cent's wotli witli liim. You remember how lie come it over me about tbe shoes, don't y«? Well it 's amazia' I should ever be such a fool as to be took in by him agin — ^but so 'twas. He come along here a spell ago, and sarved me the awfullest trick that ever you heerd on. I was alone ia the house — ^yer aunt had went to a sick nabor's, and the way he cheated me was perfectly dretful. My blud biles now a thinkin' on 't. He pretended he'd experienced re- ligion, and lamented over the way he used to cheat and lie ; and as true as I live and breathe, a;;tflly got round me so 't he preswaded me to swop away an ele- gant stun colored sUk, that cost me a dollar a yard, for a miserable slazy stripid consarn, that he said was all the fashion now — called it " grody flewry" — and what makes it more aggravatin' made me pay tew dol- lars to boot. But that wa'n't the wost on 't, for come to onroll it, we found that three or four yards away at t' other eend on 't was all dammidged and staiaed up— 't wa'n't fit for nothing. Yer aunt was mad at me for bein' so took in, and yer uncle he lafft and hectoTed me and went on about it — ^you know what a critter he is to bother a boddy. At last I busted out a cryin,' and went off and shot myself up in my room, and stayed there till tea time — and when I-come down, lo and behold, yer uncle stept up and handed me a new green meriao dress^ — he 'd ben off to the store WBITES TO HEE DAUGHTEE. 187 and bought it a purpose for me, fringe, and buttons and every tiling Jo trim it with, and I 've got it made up, and it sets like a dandy^— and I 'm gwine to be married in it. But I can't help feelin' awfally g'auled about the silk. I took it to Parker and Pettibone's and swoppt it for some things I wanted. They wouldent allow me but eighteen pence a yard, and 't was all 't was woth. Jabe made me take a couple o' hanker- chers tew, for a dollar a piece — said he 'd stake his repertation on 't they wa'n't half cotton— and no more they wa'n't, for come to dew 'em up, they showed out plain enuff that they was all cotton— did you ever ? Se got round the elder tew— made him pay five dol- lars for a buzzum pin — said 't was topiz sot in gold, and it turned out to be yaller glass with a pinchback rim round it. I was clear out o' pashence with the elder for bein' so green — ^but- sittiwated as I was I couldent say nothin' ye know. If ever I come acrost Jabe Clark agin, if he don't ketch it, no matter. But I 'm wonderful bizzy about these days — and so no more at present froin your affectionate mother, Peissilla p. Bedott. P. S. Give my love to Jubiter. I 'm gratified to hear that the baby is so forrard. Wh^t do you caUd- late to call him? I hope it won't be Jubiter — ^for somehow I don't egzactly like the name, tho' it sounds well for a rban. But don't in all favor name hiin arter 188 "WIDOW .BEDOTT PAPERS. ^ yer par. HezeMer 's an awful name. How do ye like Shadrack ? That 's the name o' his .-grandfather that's to be. Yer uncle and aunt and Jeff sends love. • • P. P. B, P. S. Yer cousin, Jeff axed permission to read this letter, and he says I hain't told you who I 'm gwine to be married tew, nor when, the weddin' 'b to be, nor nothin'. But 't ain't to be wondered at that I forgot, for I 've got such a numerous number o' things to think on now. My future companion is the Baptist minister o' this place — by the name o' Elder Snifles. The way we come acquainted was quite singular. You see I took to attendin' his meetin' because the Presbyterian minister here is such small potaters that 't wa'n't eddifyia' for me to set under his preachin', and understandin' that Elder Sniffles was a very gifted man I thought I 'd go to hear him. Well, I liked him wonderful weU, he's a powerful speaker and his prayers is highly interestin'. So I goes to hear him a number o' times. He obsarved me and was' evidently pleased with me — ^but during all the time I was creatin' such a sensation in his feehhs I never knowd but what he had a wife. How I did feel when I found out he was a widdiwer. I was dretfuUy flustrated, and kep myself as scarce as possible. But he foUered me up and parsevered, till at last I consented to accept o' him. It 's mellancolly WRITES TO HEE DAUGHTER. 189 to he alone in tie ■world, and then ministers don't ~ grow on every bush. The -^eddin' is to take place next week a Wensday evenin' at yer uncle's. Elder Ya-wpers, from- Slabtown, is to reform the ceremony and preach in Elder Sniffleses place the next Sabbath when we 're gone. The elder lives in a gamble ruffl yallar house. , I mean to niake him put wings to 't and make it look ruther more fashionable. It stans on a descendin' elevation that slants down to the canawl on the one side, and not fur behind it is a morantio grove. He hain't no family but a little highty tighty gal that they brought up. I tell ye if I don't make her stan' round when I get there I 'm mistaken. "We shall start for Wiggletown a Thursday, in the stage — and git there, I s'pose, Saturday evenin'. Now Melissy Smith re- member you 're to keep it a profound secret. I don't want nobody in "Wiggletown to know a word about it till 'they see us come a walkin' into meetin'. If you anser this afore we come, direct to the Eeverend Mrs. Sniffles. Your affectionate mar, P. P. Bedott, (tUl next week). P. S. I 've writ an elegy on my marriage that Jeff thinks is one o' my best poims. He 's gwine to send it to be printed in the " Scrabble HiU Luminary," right under the marriage notice. He ""s a keepin' it from 190 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. Lis par and mar, cause ttey hain't no sense o' poitry-— yer aunt espeshelly, has always disencurridged my ■vmtin' for the papers. But she can't h©lp herself, . P. P. B. . [From the Scrabble Hill Luminary.] Married. — ^In this village on Wedensday, the 20th lost., by the Eev. lElder Yawpers, of Slabtown, the Eev. O. Shadrack Sniffles, of Sdrabble Hill, to Mrs. Priscilla p. Bedott, relict of tlie late Deacon Heze- kiah Bedott,. Esq., of Wiggleto-wn. The fair bride has sent us the following morceau — which our readers will unite with us in pronouncing equal to a former effusion from the same gifted pen. We wish the happy pair aU the felicity which their 'distinguished abilities so richly merit. — EdS. Lum. TO SHADRACK. Prissilla the fair and Shadraok tlie wise, Have united their fortunes in the tenderest of ties ; . And being mutually joined in the matrimonial connection, Have bid adoo to their previous affliction. No more mil tbey mourn their widdered sittiwation, And oontinner to sythe without mitigation ; But pardners, for life to be parted no more, Their sorrers is eended, their troubles is o'er. Shadraok, my Shadraok! Prissilla did.speak. While the rosy red blushes surmantled her cheek, And'the tears of affection bedoozled her eye, Shadraok, my Shadrack 1 I 'm yourn till I die 1 The heart that was scornful and cold as a stun, Has Burrerdered at last to the fortinit one ; Farewell to the miseries and griefs I' have had, 1 '11 never desert thee, Shadraok, my Shad I XIX. T EFT Scrabble Hill this morniii' in tbe stage for Libertjyille. Felt like death about leavin' my beloved companion, but he insisted on 't ; said 't would be onpleasant for me to stay to hum while the par- sonage was undergwine repairs; and, besides the journey 'd be for my health ; so at last I yealded to conformity and went 'Twas determined I should visit the Crippinses, at Libertyville — Mrs. Crippin bein' my husband's cousin. The mornin was derlioious, and Aurory shone with undiminished lusture. The feathered songsters wob- bled in the groves ; the breezes was ladened with the fragrance of ten thousand flowers, while natur seemed to vie with creation to render the scene one of unmit- igated splendor. But I scercely noticed it a bit ; for I wa'n't in a sittiwation to enjoy it a mite. Alas ! my hull soul was with Shadrack. Ther wa'n't but tew individiwaJs besides me in the stage, and they was men folks. I should a found the 192 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. journey awful tejus if I hadent amused myself by courtin' the muses, as Shadrack^alls it. I liad a pen- cil and a piece o' paper iii my ridicule, and I axed one o' the gentlemen to lend me his hat to write on. He handed it out very perlitely, and I composed the fol- lerin' stanzys : TOMTOWNONE. Farewell to Scrabble Hill 1 Farewell to my dear Shad ! I leave you much against my will, And so I feel quite bad. O Shadrack tbink o' me When I am far away ; iBartingly shall think o' thee Wherever I do stray. Adoo ! a fond adop ! Dear pardner o' my heart. The idee o' comin' back to you' Sustains me while we part. if my Shad should"be Onwell while I'm from home, 1 shall feel most onpleasantlee, And wish I had n't a come. But I will hope and pray That we may both be able To meet agin some futur day, Alive and oomfortoSfo. Every thing conspired to remind me of my absent one. The men that was my feller passengers smoked the heft o' the time. My Shadrack loves his pipe, and it does me so much good to see him enjoy it. The in- THE REV. MES. SNIFFLES ABROAD. 193 diwiddiwal that lent me his hat brought him very for- cibly to my mind. He -was drest, in blact, and had a wonderful dignified and thoughtful cast of expression. I made up my mind he was a clargyman as soon as I sot eyes on him ; so when I handed back his hat I ventured to inquire where his field o' labor was. He hem'd and haw'd, and seem'druther imbarrised, So I says, says I, " I s'pose I ain't mistaken in takin'r you for a clargyman ?" But afore he had time to answer, t' other one — ^he was quite a young man^-spoke up, and says he, " You 're right, marm — ^it 's the Eeverend Mr. Beadle, of Punkin Hook." "And this is my principal deacon, Mr. Snobs," says Mr. Beadle. So I told 'em who I was ; and after the ice was broke, we had considerable interestin' conversation on a number o' tropics, espeshealy on the state o' religion In this section, particklarly in our respectable places of abode. They seem'd wonderful grieved at the in- ikity that prevails in our midst. Informed me that they 'd jest ben attendin' a convention to suppress the railroads runnin' a Sabberdays. They never travel'd on 't, cause it dident lay by a Sabberdays. They seem'd to be very much interested in me. I show'd 'em the poetry I 'd ben writin' which they was wonderfully struck with. Brother Beadle proposed settin' on 't to music, and all on us singin' it together. 194 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. The deacon tlioiiglit 't would go in " Away with inel- lancolly :" but not bein' conversant with that tnne, I proposed ' ' Haddam " — a great favorite o' mine. They said they 'd amost forgot Haddaiii ; so I sung one stsin- zy to show 'em how it- went, and then we all put to and sung it together. They dident make out very- well I dident. think; dident keep no time; seem'd to be what Jeff Magwire calls independent singers, that is, each one went intirely on his own hook, without pay- in'' no attention to the rest. But nb > doubt they done the 'best they could, and I hadent ought to find fault. The deacon requested me to give him the poim, in order to have it printed in the " Punkin Hook Patriot and Journal." After some hesitation I consented. At Pukin Hook my interestin' feller travelers got out. I regretted partin', and so did they. I invited Brother Beadle to come to Scrable Hill and preach for -us sometime. He squeezed my hand, and said he was delighted to have met with such a sister in Israel — ^he never should forget the reffeshin' season he 'd enjoyed in my society. The rest o' the way to Libertyville I was the only passenger ; but 't wa'n't no great distance. Jest as the horrizon was sinkin' behind the western skies, I arriv at Cousin GrippinSes. When I told 'em who I was they received me with open arms, for they set a- great deal by the elder. They 're olderly people, very well off; hain't no family but a son and daughter, both THE EEV. MES. SNIFFLES ABROAD. 195 inarried and settled. The daughter lives in the same placej is married to a risin' .'doctor by the name o' BriggS. In short, I thinfe I should hd quite contented here if my beloved companion was only with me. But the accumulatin' shadders o' night, aggravated by the descendin' of my candle into the socket, warns me that it is time to seek: my piller, and resusticate ex- austed jiater by repose. "0 for a siglit o' Sliadrack'a face, To sliine amid the gloom I To mitigate this lonesojaa place, AncTshed a sw6et perfume. ' . Wed-night. — Agin I take my pen in hand to re- cord the occurrences that have occurred durin' the day. I riz at an, arly hour, and sallied forth into Cousin Crippinses garding to view the works of natur. how it expends and illuminates the religious affections to contemplate the wonders of creation. The pinies was all in.fuU blow, and the yallar lilies riz up strait and stiff to court the revigoratiH' atmosphere. Also the cabbidge leaves was a glitterin' with dew drops, and looked like ever so many fans kivered with span- gles. My hull soul was evaporatin' with delightful meditation, when cousin Crippin blowd the horn for breakfast, and I was obleeged to go in, though I 'd ten times ruther a stayed there than to eat. Cousin Crip- pin sets a tolerable good table— ^makes fust rate coffy, though.! must say I can beat her on griddle cakes ; 196 -WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. wonder wliether slie spungea 'em over niglit : don't be- lieve she does ;, can't have good griddle cakes without spungin' 'em, accordia' to my lyay o' thinkin'. This afternoon Cousin Crippinses daughter, Mrs. Briggs, she 't was Susan Ann Crippin, called on me j ruther an ornary looking woman, but quite ginteel and intelleetible. The Crippinses had told ' me so much about her that 1 was prepared to be wonder- fully struck up with her. She writes poetry for the " Libertyville Eeflector." She invited me to attend a literary swearee at her sittiwation to-morrer evenin'. She says they hold thqir swearees, once a fortnight, and she thinks they have a great attendancy to elevate the tone o' society, and axed if we had any such thing at Scrabble, Hill. I told her no, that they was pretty high strung ther already, and dident heed nbthin' to elevate their tone. She smiled at this observation, and remarked that I was rather sarcastical. She said they dident admit none to membership without they'd had something printed; but others was sometimes invited to attend and enjoy the benefit of the intelleetible feast. And they 'd be happy to see me. I 'd have the pleasure o' meetin' a number of literary charicters ; among 'em " Nell Nox," the cele- brated critic, and " Kate Kenype," the weU-known and greatly admired advocate of women. She pre- sumed I 'd heerd of 'em both. " NqII Nox" was very severe, very sarcastical, very, indeed. I told her I 'd THE EEV. MES. SNIFFLES ABROAD. 197 a 1111011561 o' poims printed myself. She lookt quite surprised, and I, confess I .was surprisder yet that she hadent seen or Heerd o' my pieces in the "Scrabble Hill Luminary." On the hull, I was rather disap- pointed in Cousin Briggs. " But I mean to go -to that sweatee any how, if nothin' happens. ' But we 're - poor short sighted mortals. .Poor ignorant oritterB we 1 To our short-sighted race Things fiitur in life's mystery And like enough never '11 take place, Fkidat. — Last night attended the literary swearee at Cousin Briggses, and was highly intertained. Ther was ten or a dozen present, and four on 'em had orig- inal productions. The most extinguished article was the Widder Eeade's. She signs her perductions " Nell Nox." She 's a very fleshy woman, with -a wonderful small head. I took particular notice of her 'cause she 's so notorious in a literary point o' view. She had a singlar lookin' head-dress stuck atop of her head. Her nose is awful, long, and turns up at the eend ; very handy, saves her the trouble o' turnin' on 't it up every time she reads a poor piece o' poetry, and she don't seem to read no other exceptin' Cousin Briggses. She was drest in a sky blue muslin dress with flounces almost up to her waist, that made her look shorter and fleshyer than she actilly was, " She had a dretful severe critisism on the American 198 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. poits, espesMally a oerting long:feller, as sTie called iiaj, , some tall . indiwjidiwal I s'pose. She- cut him aE to pieces, declaring that he had never writ a line that could be call poitry in all his born: days,^ She said that his Eve Angeline was a perfectly nonsensical humbug. I presume that 's some young -woman he 's ingaged to. I thought if she was a mind to whale away aginst the long- feller she might, but she might a let his intended alone. Cousin Susan Ann axed me after-, wards if I dident think Nell Nox was awful euttin'. She said she shouldent like to come under her lash. She wo.adered what long-feller 'd say when he come to see that critisism, as lae ondoubtedly would, for 't would come out in " The Eeflector" afore long ; JSTell contribbits to that paper. Thinksme I ain't afeared of her ; I guess she '11 change her sentiments when she hears my piece. She '11 think ther is such a thing as poitry in Ameriky then. For I had in my pocket the stanzys I writ in the stage — I 'd brougM 'em along, thinkin' like enough I should be called on to read something. . , , The editor of " The Eeflector " was there ; he 's presi- dent of the swearees. A wonderful small, jandery- lookin' young man, with blazin' red hair, and exceed- inly pompous, but oncommon talented. He had an article on the prospects of the literary horizon through- out the world. His sentiments differed from JSTeU ISToxes inasmuch as he held . that Ameriky was the THE REV. MRS. SNIFFLES ABROAD, 199 only country where poitiy had. reached the hight of its zenith. To prove it, he brought forrard Cousin Briggse^ ■writins, said that even Nell ISTos, the severest critic of the age, spared /ler; ther wa'n't nothing in her poitry'that no critic could git hold of. He/wound up, at last, by glortfyin', in a most eloquent manner, that both o' these remarkable writers were contribbit- ors to his paper. ' Next come Cousin Susan Ann Briggs with her article. 'T was a very affectin' poim on, the death o' Deacon Paine's daughter. I don't' remember but one stanzy, and that come in at the eend of every alternative verse. It runs thus: Fond parents -vj-eep for me no more. That I no more am given ; We '11 surely shall meet -when life is ore, Higli tip above in iieaven. I must as Cousin Briggs for a coppy on 't,'it 's very good, though I actdly think I can beat it; 't ain't for me to say so, however. Her newspaper name is "FenellaFitzalien." The last indiwidiwal that read was an elderly young woman, named Samanthy Hocum, a wonderful tall, slab-sided, coarse lookin' critter. Her hair looked singular, 't was all raked back off her forrard, and tnade her phizmahogany l^k. a,mazin' broad and brazen; She certainly was oncommon odd and ornary lookin'. Had on a red calico dress, and a queer kind 200 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. of a bottailed little thing, made o' green silk, with brass buttons down it. Take ber altogether, she was about as singular a critter in her appearanca as I've seen in some time. But she 's oncommon smart. She had an article on the subject o' "Woman's Eights." 'Twas a powerful perduction. She hild that the men hadent no bizness to monopolize every thing, and trammil the female sect. I thought to myself they •hadent showed no great disposition to trammil her so far.-' She writes for the "Pidgin Pint Eecord of Genius," and signs Kate Kenype. Them was all the articles that was read last night, though ther was several more literary indiwidiwals ther. A fat, pudden-faced young man that writes poetry for the "Newville Star and Trumpet," and signs " Phil Philpotts." And then ther was a rather good lookin' young woman that writes the amusin' articles for the same paper, and signs 'em " Betsy But- tertub," and some more, but I disremember their news- paper names. After the readin' was over, the company diverted the time till the refreshments come in to walkin' round and round through the foldin' doors to the hall, and then from the hall through the foldin' doors agin, as if ther lives depended on 't. The editor, he Avalked with Nell ISTox, and Pfeil Philpotts with Betsy But-- tertub, and Kate Kenype, she stramanaded round alone, wonderful independent. I sot on the sofy and talked THE BEV. MES. SNIEPLE9 ABROAD. 201 to tli§ Briggaes till I got as dizzy as a fool, seein' 'em go round and round. I wanted, to read.my pbinj, and I seed plainly that Cdusin. Susan Ann dident mean to ax me to (shouldent wonder if ste was a little jealous). So I determined I would read it whetlier or no ; so wlien the company sot down to take refreshment, I speaks up and ^ says, that- seein' I 'd ben so eddified myself; I thought I'd ought to contribute my share to the evenin's intertainment ; and then without furder ado, I takes out my piece and reads it. -T was very much admired". Nell Nox declared 'twas what she- called poitry, and the" editor requested a coppy oiji 't to put in " The Eeflector." I gi'n it tew him. It dident strike me till after I got hum that I 'd gi'n it the 'Ritttfend Mr. Beadle, to be printed in the " Punkin - Hook Patriot and Journal." So I s'pose the tew papers '11 be accusin' one another o' stealin' on 't, and there '11 be a reglar newspaper quarril about it; and I shall be drawn into public notice in a manner very imbarrassin' to rny retirin' disposition. But I can't help it. We literary characters must expect to be subjected to a great many more onpleasant things than falls to the lot o' priyit indiwidiwals— -it's the fate o' genius. Don't know but what I'd try git- up a Literary Swearee Society in Scrabble HiQ, if I dident s'pose Sally Hugle 'd make herself so eonspickiwous in it. But I. know she would. She's so awfol vain, and 9* 202 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES., thinks herself such an amazin' poitess, though as to that, every l)ody knows she can't write. I feel kinder sorry for her, she mistakes her calling so. I should lament to. have her' make such a laffia' stock of herself, as she would if ther was any literary dewins. there. Saturday Evewifg. — ^Larnt to-day, through Dr. Briggs, and by a long chai:ti o' circumstances tew nu- merous to be detailed here; that the indiwidiwals that past themselves off for aclargyman and deacon in the stage, was nothing but a coupfe of hoss dealers from Varmount, with no. more sense o' religion than the animals they trade in. O, 'tis mellancoly !' I feel to la,ment that human natur. should be sunk to such a turrible a pitch as to deceave a reverend lady so aw- fully. I pitty the poor degraded, deluded critters from the bottom o' my heart. I hope they may have grace and space to repent. To think o' my bein' so took in! Well, they'll have it to answer for, that 's a comfort. But I hope they '11 be led to see ther sinfulness afore it 's tew late. . To think o' my lettin' 'em have my poitry tew, that galls me. I wish they 'd steal some bosses and be took up and sent to the sta,tes prison, the miserable wretches — but I for- give 'em — I always forgive — ^I never, lay up nothing aginst nobody — the consarnid critters I To-morrer 'H be Sunday — intend to go to meetin' if I can command my feelins sufficient. But ondoubt- THE EEV. MES. SNIFFLES ,ABEOAD. 203 edly I shall be all day a counterastin' tlie preacher witli my companion, and so sha'n't enjoy my mind, and Have as refiresliin' a season as I otherways should. Agin the sacred day Of Bacred rest has come, And to my inmost feelins brings My Shadrack's imagahum. I 'd rather spend the day With him than where I am, A hearin' of him preach and pray, And givin' out the pslam. XX. %\t ^£lj. Itrs. Sitiffh^ Ki Jffmj. " T MUST show ye my daggertype, sister Magwire,- tliat I had took wliile I was gone." ' \ - " I -want to know if you Ve got one o' them things J I 've heSrd about 'em, and had a great curiosity to see 'em. Pray how do they take 'em ?" " Well, I '11 tell ye. Sal ! Sal Blake, come in here ! Why don't ye never start some time or other when I call ye ? You go up stairs to my chamber, and fetch here that thing kivered with morocker, that lies on^ the stand. Step quick, you — and don't ye be gone longer 'n till nest day after to morrer, if ye can help it. And here ! don't you open it — ^you fetch it right straight along down — d'ye hear. That young one does try my patience the worst way — ^she's the slowest o' all created critters. I don't b' leve it done her any good stayin' with you while we was gone. I wish the elder 'd a gent her to the Widder Grimeses — I guess she 'd a made her fly round. I don't s'pose you trained her a mite." " Well, I did n't see no occasion for it. She seemed THE RET. MRS. SNIFFLES AT HOME. 205 mlliii' enougTi to dew without drivin'. And besides, I don't approve o' workin' half-grown gals so hard as some folks dew. It stunts 'em, and injures their con- stitutions." "■ "I declare, if that ain't a bright idee ! jist as if — As true as natur, there shercomes ! What 's got into ye, Sal, to make ye so spry all of asudding? I guess ye seen a ghost on the stairway, did n't ye ? There Sister Magwire, isn't that strikin' ? Sal, you huzzy 1 where 's yer manners? don't ye know no better 'n to be a gawpin' over Miss Magwire's shoulders 2 go iato the kitchin — ^budge 1" " Why Sister Sniffles, dew let the poor child look at it — what harm '11 it dew ?" " Sister Magwire, I wish you would n't interfere in my domestic arrangements — Qal, you put for the kitchin, and finish pearin' them apples and when ye 've got 'em done, take hold and scour them pans — and don't ye stop to look out o' the winder — and as soon as ye git done scouria' the pans, come here, and I -U teU. ye what to do next. I rather guess I '11 km that critter to know her place, afore I've ben here much longer. She hain't never had no instruction about what belongs to her sittiwation, at all." " Poor thing I dotft blame her, I 'm sure. You know, Miss Sniffles, the eider's first wife, brought her up as if she was her own daughter." " Well, I mean^to show her the difference betwixt 206 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. genteel folks and tliem that's born to be underlin'g. But ain't that a wonderful strikin' picter?" " It is, actilly ; looks as nat'ral as life — especially the elder's specs and your cap." " I had a couple Inore just like it took at the same time : one for Melissy, and t' other for Sam Pender- gras'ses wife. I think the position 's very interestin' —me a leanin' on the elder's shoulder, and holdin' hold o' his hand." "They must cost a good deal — don't see how you could afford it." " Well, I '11 tell ye how 't was— 't was a curus cir- cumstance. At Miss Pender^asses party-^see, I hain't told ye about her makin' a party for us, I guess; well, she did, and it was a reglar kind o' a would-if- ye-could consarn, jist such as she always makes out when she tries to cut a spludge. But Sam's wife meant well enough. And on the hull 't was quite pleasant. Most o' my old acquaintances was there: Major Coon and his wife, pompious as ever; Mr. Crane and his wife — she 't was Kesier Winkle. She don't paint her face no more now her market 's made — ^looks wonderful humbly. And there was old Daw- son and his wife — Widder Jinkins, ye know — she 'twas Poll Bingham. She and Miss Coon had their heads together half the evenin', a whisperiii' about me and the elder. But I did n't care — I teU ye, I hUd my head as high as any on 'em, if not a leetle grain THE EEV. MES. SKIFFLES AT HOME, 207 higker. ' Ther was a great deal o' notice took o' me and the elder. He talked tip and made considerable o' a sensation. I told him aforehand to do his pur- tiest, for I wanted old Dawson's Wife to see 't I 'd got a pardner rather above a common plow-jogger, such as hern is. And I guess she felt it some, for she looked mighty spiteful. While the elder was a talkin', she kept a hunchin Miss Coon,. and grinnin'. Sam Pendergrasses wife said she obsarved to her that she should think I 'd be in a constant state o' consarn about the elder, for fear he'd git choaked with a big word stickin' in his throat. Miss Pendergrass said she would n't care a cent about it, if she was me ; for 't was plain enough 't wa'n't nothin' but envy because her husband could n't talk so." " But you was gwine to tell about them dagger- types." " O yes. Well, Sam Pendergrasses wife axed Miss Coon to play on the planner. They 've got a planner for Ann Elizy— piece o' extravagance in my opinion • — don't see how Sam Pendergrass can afford such things — ^besides, I don't b'leve Ann Elizy '11 ever make much of a musicianer, for she can't play but a few tunes yit, and she 's ben a takin' lessons amost three months. I spent the day there one day, and she thumpt away on the consamid thing half the time. 'T was enough to split a body's skull open. Well, Miss Coon she sot down to the planner — and o' aU 208 WIDOW BEIXOTT PAPEES. tilings I I wish you could a ben therej. If 't Wn't ldlli7i\ tlien no matter. She throw 'd back her head, and she rolled, up her eyes, and she thrum 'd it off ^ with the tips'o' her fingers. .But good gracious! her -sin^' ! you 'd a gin up^ I know, if you 'd a heerd it! The way she squawked it out. wag a caution to old gates on a windy day! See, what was it she sung? G, I renaember — .adretful nonsensical_thing, that kept a sayin' every. little while 'e7»mme?i?.' fondly thine own.' r was perfectly dizgusted." - , " But what has all that to dew with the dagger- types ?" . , "Well, I was a gwine to tell— why can't ye have- patience ? I was settin' right by the pianner when she sung, and I obsarved that she had on a wonderM curus buzzonj-pin. So, after she'd got done her music, and gone back t' other side o' the room, I says to Melissy, says I, what a sing'lar lookin' buzzum-pin Miss Ooon 's got on — wonder what it 's made of! ' Why, mar,' says she, ' it 's a daggertype o' the Major — did n't you never see a daggertype?" ' No,' says I; ' but I 've heerd o' 'em.' So Melissy she got right up, and went and axed Miss Coon if she would n't be kind enough to let mar see her pin. I was ajrful mad at Melissy — did n'.t want that stuck up critter to ^now't I noticed her pin — so I speaks up, and I says, 1 1 want yt to understand, Miss Coon, that I didn't request Miss Smith to ax ye to show me yer pin,' ' 0,.law,' THE EEV. MES. SNIFFLES AT HOME. 209 says she, ' you 're perfectly -welcome to see it.' So she onfastened it, and handed it to Melissy, mighty graci- ous. She 's . always wonderful polite to Melissy — don't know, I'm sure, what's the reason she -treats her so much better 'n ever she did me; but I s'pose ther ain't nothin' about Jier to be jealous of. Well, Melissy she fetched it over^ and I could n't help lookin' at it ; and sure enough, there was the major, nat'ral as life, with all his tranin' regimentals on — 't was complete. Miss Coon axed me how I liked it. 'T ain't wonderful hansome,' says, I, 'but it looks fall as well as the major.' Miss Coon turned rather red, and 't was plain to be seen she felt cut up. Melissy' — silly thing— she kind o' wanted to plaster over what I 'd said, so she praised it up to the skies — said she never see any thing so perfect — and axed Miss Coon where 't was took. Miss Coon said the major had it took in G-ambletown a few days afore. Ther was a gentleman stayin' 'there a few weeks, that done 'em uncommon correct. 'O, mar,' says Melissy, 'I heerd the elder say he meant to go home by the way o' Gambletown —why can't you stop and have yourn and the elder's took for me ? Jubiter 's got a cousin livin' there— a young man named Jo Baker, and he 's a Comin' out here in a few weeks. Yoii can leave 'em with him to fetch.' ' Well,' says I, ' I '11 see about it.' After that, Melissy she teazed us till we promise to git 'em for her. She concluded she 'd like to have us represented 210 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES, together in one pieter. We 'd made oui calculations to stop in trambletown a day or te^ on our way hum. The elder was some acquainted with Elder Cumstork, the minister .there — ^had inet him at the meetin' o' the Baptist Presbytery. We left Wiggletown a Mondaj^, went round by Pidgin Pint, a-nd stopped there to- ■ward night. The elder inquired where "the Baptist minister lived, and we went there. We had n't never - heerd o' him afore — ^but 't was better to go there than, to have a tavern bill to, pay.. His name was ■ Elder Hawley. The elder he introduced himself as the Eev. Eider Sniffles, from. Scrabble Hill, and his con- sort. Well, brother Hawleyinvited us in and intro- duced us to his wife. She was a sick lookin' woman, with a hull raft o' young ones squaUin' round her. 'T wa'n't very pleasant there, they did n't seem to be in wonderful good circumstances. But they treated us very polite, and we staid tUl Thursday, for Brother Hawley was a holdin' a protracted meetin', and invited the elder to stay awhile and assist. A Thursday we come on to Gambletown, got there in the afternoon. Elder Cumstork was very glad to see us, aad so was his wife. I was quite surprised when I seenher, for I used to know her some. Her name was Mary Cushman. She used to keep school in Wiggletown when Melissy was a little gal. I sent her to Miss Oushman's school. Melissy liked her very well,. but I never thought much o' her. She was kind o' proud THE BEV. MBS. SlsTIFFLES AT HOME. 211 -^ould n't git acquainted -with her. She would n't talk about nobody. She had quite a quarrel with the Widder Jinkins about Alyiry. Miss Jinkins took Alviry^ out o' school. There was a great deal said about it. Every body was a takin' sides. Miss Jinkins went all around blazin' away against Miss Cushman. But I couldn't hear o' Miss Cushman's saying any -thing, though I s'pose Miss Jinkins did abuse her shamefully. Well, I invited her to drink tea at our house a purpose to see if she wouldn't have some- thing to say about it, but she never' opened her head. I tried my best to draw her out — expressed my opin- ion o' the Widder Jinkins without resarve. But still the' provoldn' critter never said a syllable about the matter. I tell you 't was the last time I axed her there to tea. I was disgusted with her. I took quite a dis- like tew her, and when she went away I did n't care whether I ever heerd from" her agin or not. And I had n't heerd since — did n't know what had become o' her. But I know'd her the minute I clapped my eyes on her in G'ambletown, for she 's xuther a singu- lar lookln' woman. 'Law me,' says I, 'Mary Cush- man, I want to know if that's you?' 'Jest sOj' says she, but I can't for the hfe o' me tell who you are.' ' The dear me/ say I, ' why I 'm the Eeverend Miss Sniffles, she 'twas Widder Bedott, o' Wiggletown.' ' Sure enough,.' says she, I wonder I did n't kj^ow yoUj but I 've seen so many folks since I was there, it 212 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. ruther confuses me ^ sometimes.' I tTiouglit 't was a pretty poor excuse fpt fogcttin' me, but I passed it off. She was wonderful po]ite to us. They 'd ben to dinner, but she went and got dinner for us right off. She don't keep no help, does all ber own work, and I must say she keeps the bouse in Tery nice order, and cooks pretty well consideriii' she used to be a scbool- marm ; school teachers don't ginerally make no great o' housekeeper's. Her busband seemed to be wonder- ful proud o' her; told bow well sbe got along, and what a good manager she was, and all that. But I tbought I 'd let 'em know 't I had n't no great opinion o' ber bousekeepih'. She sot on a leg o' biled mutton for us, and some vegetables and bread and butter. So when we sot down to the table I declined takin' any o' the meat. Miss Cumstork axed me if I wa'n't hungry. 'Yes,' says I, 'but I don't like biled vittals, ain't used to 'em.' She felt awful bad, and went and feteht on some cold roast beef. But I told her she need n't a troubled herself, for I could n't eat cold meat. .So she said sbe 'd cut off some slices and beat 'em in a stew-pan. I begged o' ber not to dew it, for in my opinion warmed up vittals' wa'n't fit to eat. ' I 'U make out -with a potater/ says I, ' anda piece o' bTead.' At last she gin up tryin' to make me take any thin' else. But the elder he eat wonderful bearty. I kept a winkin' at him to hold up, but he wouldn't take tbe bint. Afterward sbe brought on a rice puddin', THE BEV. MES. SNIFFLES AT HOME. 213 and the elder let into 't in' arnest. I eat, some tew, for, to tell the truthf I was awful hungry, but didn't want 'em to think I eat.it because 'twas good, so, I says, says I, * rice puddin' 's terrible plain ; but it 's better 'n nothin', arid I s'pose I shall be sick if I don't eat somethin'.' When we was alouQ the elder un- dertook to take me to do about findin' fanlt with the vittals, but I told him he need n't be oOnsarned, for I meant to let the Cumstorks see 't I know'd what was what, though I had n't been a. school-marm. And I made it a pint to turn up my nosa at every thing in the house all the time I was there ; and I .tell ye, I Gould n't help laughin' in my sleeve to see how on- comfortable it made 'em feel. "Well, we stayed till the next Monday, and the elder he preached for brother Curostork. The Gambletown folks was very much taken with him, and with me tew, all the most extinguished indiwiddiwals in the place called on me. I see that they seemed to think Miss Gumstork was an amazin' smart, intellectible woman, but whenever I got a chance I let 'em kno w 't Jdid n't think so, nor the Wig- gletown folks did n't think, so nother. I ruther guess the Cumstorks '11 have, to draw in their horns after this — " " Well, now, Sister Bedott — Sister Sniflies I mean— I want to know if you think 't was Christianlike to, go there and abuse that poor woman in her own house, and talk aginst her to her own congregation into the bargain, when, accordin' to yer own story, 214 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. ste done all slie could to make yer visit pleasant? I 'd be ashamed to tell on 't if I 'd aeted so ridicilous, I don't see what yer ohject was cuttin' up so." " I tell ye I wanted to show 'em 't I know'd what was what." " Well, I guess ye show'd 'em one thing pretty plain — that ye dident know -whsit politeness was." " I guess, Sister Magwire, 't I know what politeness is as well as you. dew. It looks well for you to be a' tellin' OTe what 's right and what 's- wrong, when my first pardner was a deacon and my present one's a niinister — when I want your advice I 'llax for it." " Well, well, I want to hear about them daggertypes — ^how they make 'em, and all in relation tew it. It 's a wonderful art — ^beats all I ever heerd of. How is it they take 'em in so little while ?" ." Well, I '11 tell ye. Ther 's a pole stuck Tip in the middle o' the floor, with a machine atop on 't— kind of an uplong shaped consarn — ^looks for all the world like the old cannon they haul out on Independence and training days, about so wide and so long. In the little eend on 't ther 's a hole, and into that hole the daggerotyper slips the steel plate that the picter 's to be ma,d.e on, and kivers it up. Then ye have to set down in a cheer about, as fur from the machine as from here to that stove, on an average. Then he fast- ens yer head in an iron consarn to keep it still — for ye 've got to set as onmovable as a wax- work, and as THE EEV. MRS. SITIFI'LES AT HOME, 215 stiff as stillyards, or tlie picter '11 be spiled. Then ye must look strait at the machine that stans there a pint- in' right at yer face — " " Grammany ! I should -fehink H, wpnld be an awful sittiwation. I should be frightend out o' my wits." " Lawful sakes ! I wa'n't a bit skairt. Well, ther 's a winder right aside o' ye, and a white sheet fastened u^ all round ye, and when ye 've got fixt, he takes the!^v-^ er off o' the machine, and the light reflects into the win- der and onto yer face, and from yer face it refragerates onto the steel plate, and executes the picter in a minit." " Well, I don't understand now a bit better 'n I did afore." " I never ! how dumb you be ? it 's as clear as day- light to -rfle. I. seen right through it at fist." " Well, what do they call them daggertypes for ?" " 0, I s'pose that 's on account o' the dagger they use to polish off the plates aforehand. Seems to me that was what Jabe said." " Jabe who ?" " Why Jabe Clark — ^he took that picter." ' "You don't !" • "It 's a curus cirojimstance. I'll tell ye how it happened. I 'd no more idee o' the daggertyper bein' Jabe Clark than nothing in the world. Nobody did- ent know. it. He was there in Gambletown cuttin' a mighty swell with his daggertypes — ^makin' money like dirt. Had hia gallery over Smith's store — altered 216 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. his name— had a great flarin' sign stuck up over his door that had on 't, 'Mr. Augustus Montgomery, DaggertjpeTi' Well, we went in there a Friday to look at his picturs, and -see what he taxed for tafcin' 'em — ^thought mahby he 'd strike off some on account of our belongin' to the clargy. Brother Oumstork ^ent with us and introduced us ; and Mr. Montgom- ery was wonderful polite— showed all his picters; told us all about 'em teW' — ^the way he took 'em and so on; though most on 'em was his own likenesses. There was Mr. Montgomery a readin' — Mt; Montgomery a smokin' — Mr. Montgomery a shavin' — and ever so many more. I forgit what they was all a dewin'. All the time I kept a thinkin' I 'd seen the man afore ; but to save my life I couldent remember when nor where. He looked kind o' natral some how, and his voice sounded jest as if I 'd heerd it afore. But then he lookt so different, no wonder I dident know him at first. He 'd cut ' off his whiskers all, only a bunch on the tip of his chin ; and he 'd got on spectacles though I noticed he looked over the tops of 'em. He had a wig, tew, considerable blacker 'n his own hair. The elder and me we stood up together and axed him if he thought we 'd take well. He looked at us a min- ute, and then says he, ' Jingo ! you 'd make an admy- rable picter.' Then it popped right into my head who 't was. I was on the pint o' screamin' right out • — ^but I happened to think and hild my tongue, for THE EEV. MRS. SNIFFLES AT HOME. 217 tMnks me, I '11 come up -with ye old feller for that ' grody flewry ' afore I quit ye. So I told him we 'd set for our picters ; and he fixed the plate 'and the ma- chine, and arranged us in our cheers the way we wanted to be represented — ;and then he took us. But the first one wa'n't good. The Elder he Itysted his eyebrows — ^it 's a trick o' hisen — and so his pictur had as much as a dosen pair of eyes. 'T was ruther big- ger 'n I wanted it tew. I axed him if he couldent make one ruther smaller. He said, ' yes, he had a process by which he could manage 'em down to any size.' So we sot agin, a little fiirder off from the ma- chine, and that time 't was good. I was so much pleased with it, I told him I 'd have another one took for Miss Sam Peudergrass, a friend o' mine. The el- der looked ruther surprized, but he dident say noth- ing. Well, he got another one full as good as the first; and I liked it so well, I concluded to have an- other one to fetch home with me. The elder opened his eyes and looked suppmeder 'n ever ; but I gin him a look, and he hild his tongue. After he 'd finished 'em all up, and got 'em all sot in the cases, says I, ' Well, now, Mr. Montgomery, what d' ye tax ?' ' Well,' says he, 'my reglar price for a double picter is tew dollars ; but I always want to dew the feir thing by the clargy — ^ginerally make a pint to throw off some for them. So in your case I wont tax but ' five dollars for the hull.' As good luck would have 10 218 . WIDO'W BEDOTT PAPSES. it, I happened to have that ar buzzpm-pin he jold me elder in my work-pocket. It had ben there ever since the Elder first showed it to me. So I takes it out and holds it up afore him. 'T was as green as grass, and any body could see in a minit that 't was brass. ' There,* says I, ' that 's a bnzzum-pin that my husband bought of a pedlar and paid him five dollars for it. He was a wonderfal pious pedlar — had jest ex- perienced religion — and of course he wouldent take the advantage of a minister o' the Gospel ; and he said 't was woth double the money he taxed ; but seein' he was tradin' with the clargy, he wouldent charge but half-price. To be sure, it dident look so green then as it does now — the greenness was princi- pally on husband's side. Now I 'm willin' to dew as well by you as Jabe Clark done by my husband. I '11 - let ye have this pin to pay for the picters, and won't ax no boot.' Then I gin him a knowin' look. I wish you could a seen the critter. I tell ye 't was rich, as Jeff says. He turned pale, and then he turned red, and looked as if he was completely stumped. The eldep'he begun to ham and haw as if he was a gwine to say something. But I looked at him in away that made him think 'twa'n't woth while. Elder Chimstork tew looked perfectly as- tonished. He examined the pin, and says he, " Why Sister Sniffles, this ere 's brass and no mistake — that pedlar cheated brother Sniffles most wickedly." THE REV. MES. SNIFFLES AT HOME. 219 "What!" says I, "you don't s'pose that a pedlar that had experienced religion at a protracted meetin', and sold splendid ' grody flewry' silk for only a dol- lar a yard, and linen cambric handkerchersthat wa^nH half cotton, for half price, would put off a brass buz- zom-pin onto a dargyman for gold! what an idee!" Brother Cumstork dident say no more.. Well, Mr. Montgomery he stood there with his knees a shakin' and a lookin' as if he 'd like to exasperate through the key hole. At last says I, " Come, what do you think o' the offer?" "Well, well," says he, "raly, I— I—" Then I marched strait up to him, and hild the pin right under his nose, and says I, " Mistopher ! do you darst to say that are pin 's brass?" He ketcht it out o' my hand and stuffed it into his pocket, jind says he, " Well, bein' as you belong to the clargy, I s'pose I 'd ought to accommodate ye." So I took my dagger- types and started off. Jest as I was a passin' out be- hind the men, Jabe ketcht me slyly by the sleeve, and says he, "Widderl" "That ain't my name," says I. "Miss Sniffles, I mean," says he, "I hope ye'U keep cfor/c." I dident say nothing ; but after we 'd got into the street, right by the comer of the store, where ther was a hull mess o' men standin', I looks up to his winder and shakes my daggertypes in his face, and says I, " Jaby Clark, don't you feel, green .?" Then I explained it to Elder Cumstork ; and he told 220 ■WIDOW BEDOTT P.APEES. Smith— and I tell ye it flew like every tting. ' The next mornin' Mr. Montgomery was missin\ There comes the elder — he 's ben over to Deacon Hugle's. I 'U be hanged if he ain't a comin' ia with- out cleanin' his feet. I wonder if any woman ever hajl ther patience so tried as mine is all the time ! Here ye be — mud and all, I wonder if it ever occur- red tew ye what that scraper was put to the door for ? Ye never think o' cleanin' yer feet no more 'n as if ther wa'n't such a thing in the world. I guess yer first wife must a ben a wonderful partifeklar wo- man." " I assure you, Mrs. Sniffles, I was not aware that any particles of mud adhered to the extremities of my boots." "I presume ye wa'n't aware on't. Ye'd go head foremost into a mud puddle as big as a meetin' -house, and not be aware on 't. Sal I fetch here the dust pan, and brush, and. clean up this mud, quick. There! jest like ye ! can't take it up without gittin' down on yer knees to dew it." "I got down to look after it — couldent see where 'twa&" " Couldent see it, hey ! Hain't ye qo eyes in yer head ? Ye 've ben so used to mud and dirt all yer days, I s'pose you actilly don't see it without it 's a lump as big as yer head. Scoured them pans yit?" "Yes, ma'am." THE EEV. MES. SNIFFLES AT HOME. 221 " Well, wliy dident ye come and let me know when ye got done — say?" "Because I only just got done this minute." " That 's a likely story ! I '11 bet a dollar ye Ve ben a lookin' out o' the winder, or talkin' to Bets Wilson this half hour. Go along and make up a fire, and put on the tea kittle, [boxing her ears] and then go out and mop off the steps, and git 'em ready for Mr. Snifi3.es to dob up with mud agin next time he comes in." " Well, Sister SnifiSes, I guess I must go." "What ! I thought ye was a gwine to stay to tea." " No, I can't— husband '11 be expectin' me hum to drink tea with him." " Well, then, I '11 jest throw on my things and run over and take a dish with ye, for I 'm tired, and don't feel like gittin' vittals myself." " Brother Sniffles you come along tew." " Well, then, Sal you may take off the tea-kettle ; and don't ye make no more fire — shet up the stove, and let it go down, and take yer knittin'-work and stick to 't stiddy. If ye want any thing to eat afore we git back, ye may git some o' that cold pork and taters. Thank fortin the cubbard 's locked, or I s'pose she 'd be a pokin' her nose into the rest o' the vittals — moopin' critter." XXI: ®|« i^Jr. lln. MM €^xism lia ^mtimtrdi m ^i^w'ii to t\i frammge. " T SAY I 'm disgusted witli tHis old house ; 't ain't fit for ginteel folks to live in ; looks as if 'twas built in Noah's time, with its consarned old gamble ruff and leetle bits o' winders a pokin'^ out like bird cages all round. Painted yaller, too,, and such a hum- bly yaller ; for all the world jest the color o' calomel andjoUupl" " But you are aware, Mrs. Sniffles — " " I say 't ain't fit to live in. I 'm ashamed on 't. I feel awful mortified about it whenever I look at Miss Myerses and Miss Loderses, and the rest o' the hansome sittiwations in the neighborhood, with their wings and their piazzers and foldin' doors, and all so dazzlin' white. It 's ridicilous that we should have to live iu such a distressid lookin' old consarn, 'when we 're every bit and grain as good as they be, if not ruther better." " Nevertheless, the house is very comfortable." " Comfijrtable I who cares for comfort when gintili- EXPSESSES HEE SENTIMENTS. 223 ty 's consamed ! / don't. I say if you 're detarmined to stay in it, you 'd ought to make some alterations in 't. You'd ougtt to higher the ruff up and put on some "wings, and build, a piazzer in froat with four great pillars to 't, and knock out that are petition be- twixt the square room and kitchen, and put foldin' doors instid on't, and then build on a kitchen behind, and have it all painted white, with green winder blinds. That would look something Wee, and then I shouldent feel ashame'd to hare ginteel company come to see me, as I dew now. T' other day, when Curnel Billins and his wife called, I couldent help noticin' how contemptible she looked round at the housf and furniture — ^I actilly was so mortified I felt as if I should sink right through the floor." " But you know, Mrs. Sniffles — " " I say we 'd ought to have new fumitur — sofys and fashionable cheers, and curtains, and mantletry orna- ments, and so forth. That old sq^ee looks like a sight. And them cheers, tSw, they must a come over in the ark. And tRen ther ain't a picter in the house, only jest that everlastui' old likeness o' Bonyparte. I '11 bet forty great apples it 's five hundred years old. I was raly ashamed on 't when I see Miss Ournel BU- lins look at it so scornful when they called here. I s'pose she was a counterastin' it with their beautiful new picters they 're jest ben a gittin up from New York, all in gilt frames. I seen one on 'em t' other 224 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. day in to Mr. Bungle's shop, when I went in witH Sister TibHns to look at her portrait that lie 's a paint- in'. I seen one o' Miss Billinses picters there. ■ 'T was a splendid one, as ,big as the top o' that are table, and represented an elegant lady a lyin' asleep by a riyer, and ther was a little angel a hoveritt' in the air over her head, jest a gwine to shoot at her with a bow and arrer. I axed Mr. Bungle what- 't was sent to his shop for, and he said hpw 't Miss BiUins wa'n't quite satis- fied with it on account o' the angel's legs bein' bare, and she wanted to haye him paint some pantaletts on 'em, and he wasa gwine to dew it as soon as he got time. ^ He thought 't would be a very interestin' picter when he got it fixed. I think so tew. I dew admire picters when they ain't all dirly and faded out like old Bony there. Them Scripter pieces fiiat Sister Myers has got hangin' in her front parlor — ^them she painted afore she was married, strikes me as wonderful inter- estin', especially the/one that represents Pharoh's daughter a findin' Moses in the bulrushes. Her para- sol and the artificials in her bunnit is jest as natral as life. And Mosfis, he looks so cunnin' a lyin' there asleep, with his little coral necklace and bracelets on. it 's a sweet picter. And I like that other one, tew, that represents Pharoh a drivin' full tilt into the Eed Sea after the Isrelites. How natral his coat-tails flies out. I tEink some Scripter pieces would be very approbriate for a minister's house. We might git Mr. EXPRESSES HEB SENTIMENTS. 225 Bungle to paiat some for tlie front parlor, and our portraits to hang in the back parlor, as Miss Myers has theim: But law me ! what 's the use o' my talk- in' o' havin' picters or any thing else that's decent? You don't take no interest in it. You seem to be per- fectly satisfied with this flambergasted old house and every thing in it.'" " My former consort never desired any thing supe- rior to it." " Your former consort ! I 'm sick and tired o' hear- in' about her. 'T aint by no means agreeable to have dead folks throw'd in yer fe,ce from momin' to night. What if she was satisfied with her sittiwation? 'T ain't no sign I should be. I s'pose she hadent never ben used to nothin' better, but I have." "But, Mrs. Sniffles, you taust recollect that — " " I say 't ain't to be put up with. I want to have some company — ^ben wantin' tew ever sence we was married ; but as for invitin' any ginteel people a visit- in' to such a distressid old shell as this is, I won't dew it — and so — Miss Billins and Miss Loder and them would say I was tryin' to cut a swell, and couldent make it out. And I don't mean to accept no more invitations amonkst theni that hves in style, for it ag- gravates me, it does, to think how different I 'm sitti- wated. So you may make yer pastoral visits without me in &ture, for I 've made up my mind not to go out none as long as we live in thiS'ridicUous old house." 10* 226 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPERS.. " But recollect, Mrs. Sniffles, tMs touseis a parsonage — I occupy it rent free." " I don't care if 't is a parsonage. I say the congre- gation might afford you a better one, and for my part, I 'm disposed to make a fuss about it." "Mrs. Sniffles, you must be aware that I am not possessed of inexhaustible means. I have never at- tempted to conceal from you this fact— therefore, you must also be aware that there exists an entire impossi- bility of my erecting a new residence on the plan which you propose. Nor is it at aU probable that the congregation would be willing to mate such altera- tions in this as you suggest. Yet, I assure you, that I have not the slightest obj,ectioti to your employing your own means in the construction of a more elegant edifice." " My own means 1" " Yes, Mrs. Sniffles. Your dissatisfaction with the parsonage is so great, that I have for some time past been expecting you would propose building a new res- idence ; and I repeat that such an appropriation of a portion of your funds would meet my concurrence." " My funds I" " Your fiinds, Mrs. Sniffles. It is a delicate subject and one on which I have hitherto hesitated to make inquiry, although possessing an undoubted right to do so. I have been expecting ever since our union, that EXPRESSES HEB SENTIMENTS. 227 you would inform me how and - where your property is inrested." " My property !" "Your property, Mrs. Sniffles. In what does it consist, if I may be permitted to inquire ?" "Land o' liberty ! you know as well as I dew." " What am I to infer from that observation?" " Jest what you 're a mind to. I ain't woth money, and I never said I was." "Mrs. Sniffles, you are well aware that on your ar- rival in this place, common report pronounced you to be an individual of abundant means, and I have al- ways labored under this impression — an impression which, allow me to remind you, yourself confirmed in a conversation which occurred between us in the parsonage grove." " You don't mean to say 't I told you so, and you darsent say 't I did." " A-hem — ^I mean to say that you did not deny it when I delicately alluded to the subject. On the con- trary you led me to infer that such 'was the fact, and under that impression I was induced to accede to your proposal." " My proposal ? What do you mean to insinniwate ?" "I should have said your — your — evident inclina- tion for a — a — ^matrimonial engagement. I deeply re- gret, Mrs. Sniffles, that you' should have allowed your- self to practice upon me what I can not consider ia any 228 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. other light than that of' a heinous and •unmitigated deception. I regard it as an act quite incompatible with your religious professions." " You dew, hey ? well, you can't say 'tT! ever told you out and out that I was woth property ; and if you was a mind to s'pose so from what I did say, I 'm sure 't ain't my fault, nor I ain't to blame for other folkses saying I was a ftch widder." " Mrs. Sniffles, I lament exceedingly that you should view it in that light. You can but acknowledge that it was your duty when I requested information on the subject, to have given me a correct account of your property." " I hadent no property to give ye an accont of." "You should have told me so, Mrs. Sniffles, and not have suffered me to infer that you was in easy circumstances." ' " I tell ye agin, I couldent help what you inferred, and s'pozen I could, which was the most to blame, me for lettin' you think I was rich, or you for marryin' me because you thought I was rich? For my part, I think that was ruther incompatible with your profess- ions. Ministers had ought to have their affections sot above transiterry riches." "Mrs. Sniffles, this is a — a — deHcate subject, we wdl waive it, if you please." " But I think the congregation ought to fix up the house," EXPRESSES HBE SENTIMENTS. 229 " I will lay it Before the session at tlie next meet- ing." "WeU, dew, for pity's sake. And if they agree to fix it, I'll go a journey somewhar while it 's a bein' al- tered, and you can board round, and Sal can stay at sister Magwire's." Extracts from Mrs. Sniffled Diary. Sabbath Day Evening. — 0, what a precious sea- son this day has been to me! My pardner has hild forth with uncommon unction. O, may he long be a burnin' and shinin' light to the world ! My feel- ins to-day has been of the most desirable natur. O that I could say so every night 1 but, alas I . ther is times when I feel as cold as a stun, when the face o' creation seems to frown, and evidences is wonderftd dull. And then agia, I 'm as bright as a dollar, and have such wonderful clear manifestations, and such oncommon nearness — and such a sense of intarnal satisfaction. O that I could alway? feel as I 'd ought to feel. Dear suz ! I 'm often reminded o' what my deceased companion, the lamented Deacon Bedott, used to remark, " We 're all poor critters." To-day we 're liable to Ml, To-morrow up we climb, For 't mn't our nature to enjoy Beligiou all the time. Monday. — ^Have ben very much exercised to-day on account of SaUy Blake, our help. Her depraved 230 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. natur lias stowed out in a very tryin' manner. But I feel to rejoice that' I 'ye ben enabled to be faithful witli her. How I have wrastled day and night for that dis- tressid child I O, that I may have grace to bear with patience and resignation the daily trials I have to un- dergo with her ! I feel to be thankful that thus far I have ben supported and hain't sunk under it as many would a done. O that I may be enabled to feel and realize that such afflictions is sent for the trial of my faith. Thursday. — 0, what a responsible sittiwation is mine as President of the " F. TJ. D. Gr, E., and A. So- ciety !" I 've realized it in an overwhelmin' degree to-day. Attended the meetin' this afternoon, and some very onpleasnt circumstances occured. But I feel to be truly thankful that I had grace to presarve my uniformity in the midst of the diffikilties. I wish I could say as much for some o' the rest o' the mem- bers, especially Sail Hugle. 0, the vanity and pride o' that critter 1 it grieves me to the heart. Saturday. — My beloved Shadrach has jist inform- ed me that the parsonage is to be repaired and made comfortable. My dear pardner has requested it to be done intirely to please me, and quite unbeknown to me. It 's true it needs it bad enough, but then I never should a thought o' complainin' about it. I feel that I 'm'a pilgrim and a sojourneyer here, and hadent ought to be partickler, and so I told the elder when he EXPEESSE-S HER SENTIMENTS. 231 proposed havin' tlie house repaired. But he insisted on 't and -I consented more for his sake than my own. O that I may be truly thankful for the blesains linjoy especially for such a pardner I Blest he tho day o'. Bacred mirtli That gave my dear companion tirth; Let men rejoice wMle Silly sings The bliss her precioos Shadrack brings. XXII. "r\ON'T care a snap for liim, hey? "Now Nancy Haniagton, I want to know if you tHnk you 're a gwine to make me believe sucli a story as that ? I know better. I can See as fur into a mill- stone as any body — and I know and have know'd for better 'n six months how 't you and Jasper Doolittle tuck a notion to one another. 'T is extrawnary how gals will talk ! If you don't care a snap for him, what makes you go with him to lecters, and concerts, and sleigh -rides, and a,ll kinds o' dewins 7 Don't teU me you don't care a snap for him. He 's a real nice young man tew — stiddy and industrus and dewin' wpll — ^you never 'U have a better chance in yer life — mabby he hain't said nothin' partickler to you yet-^ but that 's no sign he ain't a gwine tew as soon as he gits his cuiridge up. He 's ruther bashful, you know — it takes them sort o' fellers longer to come to the pint in such matters ; they want considerable spurrin' up, and I advise you not to let nobody else hear you say you don't care nothin' about Jasper Doolittle-— trouble AFNT MAGUISB'S EXPERIENCE. 233 comes o' tliein kind o' speeches. I know by experi- ence — ^I come piirty nigh losin' yer Uncle Joshaway by makin' an imprudent remark o' that nater. I '11 teU you how 'twas, and mabby you'll take wamin' by it. I remember egzackly when 'twas — 'twas in the month o' March, about tew year and a half arter Sister Bedottwas married; yer uncle and me 'd ben keepin' company all winter : he come t' our house every Sabberday eyenin' regularly, besides always seein' me hum from singin'-school andr evenin' meet- ins, and so forth— -^'t was town talk that we was en- gaged — Joshaway Magwire and Melissy Poole — ^that was the story all roimd. But all this time, mind you ■ — ^he hadent said a word tew me about havin' on him, though I was suspectin' every day when he would. You see he was awfal bashful. Well, one night ('t was in the month o' March), we was gwine hum^ from singin'-school — nary one on us dident say nothin' for some ways. At last yer uncle ham'd and haw'd tew or three times, and then says he to me, says he, " Melissy !" says I, " Hey ?" — ^but he dident continner for some time^ — arter a spell he ham'd and haw'd agin ■ — and he says to me, says he, "Melissy!" says I, ' "Well — what?" but still he dident continner. At' last I see we was a gittin' purty nigh hum — so I says to him, say I, " Joshaway^ — what was you a gwine to remark?" So then he says, says he, "I was a gwine to say — " but his curridge Mled and he dident finish. 234 WIDOW BfiDOTT PAPEES. Afore long we come to the gate, and there -we stopt (we used to stop awhile at the gate in a gineral way), and says he, " MeHssy !" says I, " Joshaway Maguire, what dew you want?" '^ Why," says he," ''I was a gwine to ax you — ^." Jest then yer granfther Poole ■ opened th^ door and came out, and so yer uncle went off and I went in. Well — ^next day Hanner Oanoot come in t' our house — and she begun to joke me ahout yer uncle — now 1 never covM bear Hanner Canoot — she was a reglar mischief-makin' old maid — always a meddlin' with every body's bizness in the place — and sure as she see a young cupple appearantly attached to one another, she 'd insiriiwate sutin' or other against 'em. She couldent git no sweetheart herself, and it made her awful cross-grained and mad at them as could git 'em. I hadent never had no diffikilty with her — ^but I dispised her — and yer gram'ther Poole used to say to me frequently, " Me- lissy, dew be keerful what you say afore Hanner Canoot-^she 's a dangerous critter" — and I was kerful in a ' gineral way. * And then, you see, ther was another thing about it — there was her brother, Josiar Oanoot — ^he 'd ben tryin' to be perlite to me tew or three year — and I wouldent keep company with him, nor have nothin' to say tew him — and Hanner she know'd it, and felt awful spiteful to me on account o' thai. Speakin o' Siar Oanoot — the last time I was up to Wiggletown, yer Aunt Bedoot telled me he was AUNT MA.GUIEE'S EXPERIENCE. 285 qtiite perticHer to her. He hain't never ben married. I s'pose .nobody -wouldent hate him — he was so lazy and so consarned disagreeable, and so awful humbly. Why his hair was as read as blazes — and he hadent no nose at all — and what ther was on 't turned right tlj) straight. When yer Aunt Bedott tell'd me about his steppin' up to her, I say, says I, "I hope you won't incurridge him. Silly— for he 's a poor shiftless critter." " Why no he ain't, nother," says she, " he 's ben in the millentary and got to be Oappen Canoot." " I don't care for tliat," says I ; " 't wouldent make no difference to me if he was gineral — he 's Si Canoot and always will be." Well, I felt awful worried about it, and when I come hum, I telled yer uncle on't, and says he, "0 don't you be afeard o' SiUy's marryin' him.- I'll be bound he hain't no idee o' marryin' her. She always thinks the men has serus intentions if they look at her" — ^that's what yer uncle said — and I don't say but what H is so — Sister Bedott 's a curus critter — tho' she 's a nice woman in the main. Well, I was a gwine to tell what Ha^nner said; she begun to joke me — and says she (I was a spinnin' on a gret wheel you know), well she begun at me and says she, " Melissy, they tell curus stories about you ;" whiz — whiz — wHz went the wheel, and I pertended I dident hear her. Arter a spell she spoke up louder, and says she, "Melissy — ^they tell strange stories about you and Joshaway ;" whiz — ^whiz — whiz went 236 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. the wheel, I made as if I dident hear a word, she said — ^s& bymebye she turns to your gram'ther (she was a ^ettin' there), and says she — " How is it, Miss Poole? when 's that are weddin' comin' on ?" " What weddin ?" , says mother, says she. " Why, Melissy and Joshaway Magwire, heshure," says Hanner, says she. "Never — not as I knows on," says mother, says she, " I -idon't know nothin' about no such bizness." Well — sh^ see she couldent git no satisfec- tion out o' mother, so she hollers to' me agin, and says she, " seems to me yer ruther hard o' hearin' to-day, Melissy." Whiz-z-z-z-z went the wheel louder 'n ever, and I dident take no notice o' what she said. Party soon she bawled out agin, and says she — ''I guess what makes you so deef, you must a ketcht cold in yer head last night— 't was rather a long journey you tuck to git hum" — (you see yer uncle and me went hum by the turnpike instid o' gwine cross lots — ^but how the critter found it out, dear knows). WeU, I dident pay no 'tention, but I tell you I was a gittin' awfal mad. Arter a spell she gits up and comes and dumps herself right down aside o' me, and says she, "Say, Melissy, dew tell when you and Joshaway 's a " gwine to step off — ^he 's a very nice young man, tho' I guess he won't never set the river, afire." When she said that, I was completely ryled up. I 'd ben a growin' madder and madder all the time — ^to think o' her tellin' right afore mother about our comin' hum hin!" ^ ^ ''■ Waa-inro, I woi,l,l'„l «i,,Pm.v oM shoes on page 237 Tdj the turnpike — and then sayin' " lie wouldent never set the river afire" — 't was tew much, I couldent hold in no longer; so I turned round and shook my wheel- pin in her face, and says I, " Hanner Oanobt — yer a meddlin' old maid. - I wish you 'd mind yer own bizness and lem 'me alone about Josh Magwire— / wouldent wipe my old shoes on himy Now what did the critter dew when I spoke so ? "Why she snorted right out a laffin, and says she, " 0, don'tgit in a pas- sion, Melissy-7-don't ; dew keep your temper till yer married — dew." Purty soon she went hum. This was a Friday. Well — Sabberday come and I dident see nothin o' Joshaway. I thought 't was ruther queer, but I reckon'd on seein' on him to Wensday evenin' meetin' — so I waited with patience till Wensday evenin' come, and I went to meetin'. Well, he was there, and I s'posed of course he 'd wait on me hum — ^but when meetin' was out, lo and behold ! he went straight apas me and axed Oloey Foggerson if he should have the pleasure o' seein' her hum I Then 'it all come thro' my head like a flash o' hghtnin', what I said" to Hanner Canoot — and I know'd she 'd told him on 't as well as if I 'd heerd her. I tell you I felt like death I I never know'd till that minnit how much I sot by Joshaway Magwire — ^the idee o' loosin' on him was awful aggravatin'. Well, I got hum somehow or other and went straight off to bed — hM I dident sleep nun that night. 238 WIDOW BEDOTT PAYEES. In the momin' I got up witli a tremenjuous headache, and lookin' as pale as a ghost. Mother, she axed me whether or no I -wa'n't sick. I teUed her no ; but all that dayl wa'n't fit for no .bizness — dident have no appertite — and when night come yer gram'ther felt so consarned about me, she gin me a dose o' perrigar- lick — cause she said if I dident sleep that night I 'd sar- tialy be attacked with the fever. In spite o' the per- rigarlick I dident sleep a wink that night nother, Next day I felt woss than ever,' but I was awful high sperrited, and I was detarmined nobody shouldent know the reason. Thinks me if Joshaway 's a mind to use me so, he may and be hanged to him. I ain't a gwine to kill myself on account o' him — he ain't the only young man in the univarse. That was the way I tallced — ^to myself— but taUdn' and dewin 's tew things, you know, Nancy. The more I tried to de- spise yer uncle, the more I couldent — ^the more I tried to hate him the better I liked him. "Well, so it went on for a number o' weeks. Yer uncle never come nigh me. I used to see him to singin' school and meetin', but he never offered to see me hum — Always went with Cloey Foggerson. Afore long, every body was a talkin' about him and Cloey Foggerson. But what worked me most was — ^the gals begun to blag- guard me about losin' my sweetheart, and thinks me, I 'U git him back if I die for 't. So artef ponderin' on't a spell, I made up mind I 'd inourridge Siar AUNT M'^GTTIEE'S EXPERIENCE. 239 Canoot, and see 'f that wouldent bring yer uncle tew. Si was ready enough to step up, you know, but I 'd gi'n Mm tbe mitten so many times, he was afeard to ventur. So one day I goes by his shop (he was a waggin,-maker by trade, you know) — he was a stand- in' in the door as he always was — ^in a gineral way — (he was everlastin' lazy) — ^well, I says, says I, " How de dew, Mr. Canoot?" I tell you I never see a sur- prisder critter 'n what he was — I hadent spoke tew him in better 'n a year. " Well as common," says he. . Says I, "Why don't you never come to see us now days, Mr. Canoot ?" The critter was mighty tickled — and says he — " The reason I hain't ben 's , cause I reckoned my company wa'n't agreeable." " ! Mr. Canoot, you mustent think so," says I — and then I went off. Well, next night he come t' our house, and artef that he come every night — and I tell you 't was an awfal cross to me to treat him any w^y decent — for I hated the critter like pizen : but I managed to be perlite tew him, and afore a week's time he poppt the question. I tell'd him 't was very onexpected and I must consider on 't a spell afore I gin him an anser. He seemed appearantly satisfied, and continnerd to wait on me ; and I could see 't yer uncle felt oneasy by the way he lookt sideways at us whenever he see us together — ^but still he never come nigh me nor of- fered tew speak tew me — and so it went on for tew hull months. All the nabora begun to talk about 240 WIDOW BEDOTT PAP ready — and I tell ye all the rest o' the house was jest as full as it could stick. The parlor and the hall and the bed-rooms was all qrowded and cram- med. You'd a thought from the number o' folks that was there, that ther 'd been a wonderful sight o' donations brought — ^but as true as I 'm a livih' critter — that table wa'n't half full. But then ther was a good many families that fetcht one article to answer for the hull. For instance, Deaflon Skinner and his wife and four darters and tew sons was all there — and Miss Skinner fetcht a skein o' yarn to knit Parson Scrantum some socks. Miss Hopkins and her three darters and her son and his wife, that was a visitin' her, and their three children all come — and Mis§ Hopkins brought half a pound o' tea. And the Eunyons with their four young ones — what do you think they 256 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. lirouglit? why, Miss Eunyon fetdit a little fancy basket to stick on tlie center-table and put visitin' cards in. And tlie Miss Footes, three on 'em they brought Miss Scrantum a pair o' cuffs. And all the Binghams, they fetcht a neck ribbon for Susan. And Deacon Peabody and his tribe, ther 's as much as a dozen on 'em, they brought a small cheese. I heerd afterward that half o' it -was a donation and t' other half was to go for pew rent. And Cappen Smalley and all his children was there. He fetch a box o' raisins out o' his store, ther was twelve pound in 't^and Susan told me afterward that ten pound was to go toward pew rent and the rest was a present. The Widder Grimes and Charity w;as there, of course. They dident go. nigh the donation table for some time, and I was kind o' curus to know whether they 'd brought any thing, and so I watch'd 'em, and bimebye, I ob- served Charity go up slUy, when she thought nobody did n't see, and lay a little paper on the table. I had the curiosity to see what was in it, so as soon as I got a chance I took up the paper and peeped into 't, and lo and behold ! there were two skeins o' thread ! did you ever ? Widder Grimes is well off, but she 's tew stingy to be decent, and Charity 's jest Kke her. Then there was ever so many belonging to other denomina- tions, that didpnt bring nothin' ; they come to show their good will, to let folks see that ther/ wa'n't bigoted and prejudiced, though ' they did differ in a religious ^ THE DONATION PABTY. 257 pint o' vie-vv, and git their supper. And besides them, I noticed a great many that I never see before — no- body knows where they come from nor where they went tew. I guess they must a been raised up for the occasion. And then ther was an awful sight o' chil- dren that straggled in .from every where. Doctor Lippincott, he was there, bowin' and scrapin' round as usual — awfully anxious about every body's health j and his wife, tew, as much consarned as he was — and their promisin' red-headed boy, and interestin' darter, Anny Marier, with her six starched skirts on — ^takin' up more room than ary ten decent drest girls in the room. The doctor always goes to all the donation parties for fifteen miles round, to make himself popilar, but nobody knows of his ever takin' any thin'. On this occasion, Anny Mariar took a hook-mark to Mr. Scrantum, with a thing on it that looked like a cliop- pirH-knife, and a mess o' French nonsense below it. But the greatest part o' the performance was the semi- nary gals and their donation. Ther was twenty-five on 'em, and what do you suppose they fetcht ? Why, the hull kit and cargo on 'em had conspired together and made a rag-baby for little Adeline Scrantum, and rigged it up in gauze and tinsel, and they all come together and brought that. Miss Pinchem, their teacher, wa'n't there. She was sick o' somethin'. I guess if she had a come, she 'd a kept 'em a little straighter. Land o' liberty! I never see such an 258 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. actin' set o' critters ia all my born daysl Tbey carried on like all possesst. I see some on 'em 'a flourisHn' round Jeff— he 's always ready for a scrape, you know — and I was afeared lie 'd git to carryin' on witli 'em and I wouldent a had him for any thing, so I gin him a caution. " Jeff," says I, " you let them seminary galls alone ; they 're a wild set ; 't ain't proper to cut up so in the minister's house." Jeff promised to keep clear on 'em — h'e generally does as I want him tew. I '11 say that much for Jefferson, he 's always been good about mindin'. But it went hard with him to dew it then ; he was ripe for fun, and determined to let off the steam some way or other. So he looks round and he sees Charity Grimes stuck up on the settee 't other side o' the room. Stiff as a poker and prim as a pea-pod — you know what a starched up, affected old critter she is. Jeff went to school tew her when he was little, and she snapped his ears and cuffed him round, so he 's always hated her like pizen ever since. She 's ben tryin' this twenty year to git married and can't make it out. She'd chased after Squire Fuller ever since his wife died. Squire Fuller got married about a month afore that — and yer uncle says he verily believes he did it in self- defanse, jest to get rid o' Charity Grimes — shebother'd him to death ; he couldent go out in company but what she 'd contrive to hook on to him. He 's a very peiiite man, the Squire is, and he dident want tew be THE DONATlbjS" PARTY. 259 rude to her, but lie couldent bear her, though she tried hard to make folks think he was her beaux. At last he got married, quite suddenly, to a young woman in Chenang county ; and yer uncle says,he don't believe he 'd a done it, if it hadent a ben to get rid o' Charity Grimes; for his wife had ben- dead five year, and he seemed to be uncommon contented for a toiMiwer. But I was gwine to tell you what Jeff done. He see Charity a sittin' there a tryin' to dew the agreeable to Cappen Smalley (Ais wife hadent been dead long-~ by the way, they 'd make a good match, wouldent they ?) Well, Jeff says to me, says -he — " Mother, may I go stir wp Charity Grimes?" " I don't know what you mean by stirrin' on her up," says I. " 0," says he, "I jest want to condole, with her a little on the loss o' Squire Fuller." "ISTo," says I, "you needent dew no such thing; 'twould be very im^ proper, indeed, and very aggravatin', tew." " Well,'' says he, " may n't I jest go and talk a little Shake speare tew her? (Jeff's always quotin' Shakespeare, you know.) " I 'm afeerd you '11 say something sassy, says I. "No I won't," says he. "I '11 be all-killin' perlite." " Well go, then,!' says I. So off he steps, demure as a deacon. " Good evenin', Miss Grimes, says he. "Good evenin', Mr. Magwire," says she, " It seems like old times to see you agin," says he and then he obsarved to Cappen Smalley — "I used to go to school to Miss Grimes when I was young." 260 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPKES, Charity puckered up lier mouth and grinned, and says she. " Yes, you -was quite a "boy then — and I was a mere child myself, exceedingly youthful for a teacher." " Well," says Jeff, says he, "you hain't altered a spek since — -you hold your own amazingly' — ^you looked every hit as old then as you dew now ; but how do joufeel about these days?" "Eeel!" says she, pickin' up hej- ears, "I feel as well as common — why should-- ent I?" "Excuse me," says Jeff, "I only axed be- cause I did n't know but you felt ruther nonplussed, put to 't for business as it were, since Squire Fuller got married. ' Old feller's ocerpation 's gone' now, I s'pose, as Shakespeare says." Gracious! how mad Charity was ! She brustled up like a settin' hen, and, says she — "Jeff Magwire, I don't care a straw for what Shakespeare nor none o' the rest o' your rowdy acquaintances says about me, I 'm above it ; but who- ever he is, you may teU him he 's an impudent puppy, for callin' a young lady an old feller — and you're another for teUin' on 't." So she got up and flounced out into the hall. The folks aU giggled and seemed wonderfal tickled; but Jeff, he looked round as astonished as he could be, and says he — " I wonder what ails Miss Grimes. I thought for the life o' me she was a gwine to snap my ears, as she used to when I was young." I was vexed at Jeff, and took him to task as soon as I got a chance ; but he declared TKE DONATION PARTY. ' 261 't wa'n't " old feller" he said, but somethia' else — how- ever, it sounded jest like it, any way. Just then the door was thrown open, and we was invited out to supper. So we went squeezin' and crowdin' into the settin'-room. Some o' the folks ptished and jammed as if they were afeared they shouldent git the best;chan(Je. Glory Ann Billing sot at one end o' the tablje a pourin' coffee, and Jo Gip- son's wife at the ^t other end a pourin' tea; and I tell ye, 't was as much as ever they could dew to pour it fast enough. Jeff, he flew round and helped t^e ladies. For my part, I dident feel like eatin' much — I was jammed up agin the wall and coulcjent stir hand nor foot. So I told Jeff to fetch me a cup o' tea and nut-cake, and he did ; and I took 'em and managed to eat the nut-cake, but somebody hit my elbow and made me spiU the heft o' the tea ; so I stood and held my empty cup, and looked on to see, the performance. I say for 't if 't wa'n't worth seein', I 'm mistaken. Why, if I was a starvin' to death, I shouldent be willin' to act as some o' them folks did. They pushed, and elbowed, and pulled, and hauled, and grabbed like crazy critters. 'Twas amusin' to see 'em put down the vittals — I 'd a gin a sixpence, Nancy to had you there ^ 't would a ben fun for you to look on and see ^the dewins. You 'd a thought the biggest part o' the company hadent had nothin' to eat since the last 262 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. donation party, and didenj expect to have notiiia' more till the next one. ^ The -wimmin, as a general thing, took^.tea, and eat the cake and pies, and so forth. And the men, they let into the coffee, and biscuit, and cheese, and cold meat, and such like. » I actUly see Deacon Skinner drink six cups o' coffee, and eat; in proportion. And Dr. Lippincott, my grief! 'twas perfectly astonishin' to me that one mortal bodj- could hold as much as that man put in^— no wonder he 's so fat — they say he gits the heft of his livin' away from home — contrives to git to one patient's house jest as dinner 's ready, and to another's jest at tea time, and so eats with 'em. And I wish you 'd a seen the Widder Grimes. Gram- many ! how the critter did stuff! I took partickler notice of her, and J see she had an awful great work- bag on her arm, and every little whUe she 'd contrive to tuck a piece into 't when she thought nobody wa'n't a lookin'. As soon as I got a chance, I hunched Jeff, and says I — " For pitty 's sake, Jeff, do obsarve the Widder Grimes." So Jeff, he watched her a spell. "By George!" says he, "if that ain't rich !" I tell ye, 't was fun for Jeff. Bimeby — after she 'd got her bag purty well filled, says Jeff to me, says he — " Now, mother, may I stir her up a little?" " I don't care," says I. So he reached forrard and hollered across the table tew her, loud enough for every body to hear— - Grimes, may I come to your party ?" " My THE DONATION PARTY. 263 party ?" says slie ; "^hat do you meap ?" " Why," says Jeff, sayS he, " I reckoned from the size o' your bag, and the quantity o' proTissions you -was 'a layin' in, that you was a calculatin' to make a party, and I thought I 'd like to come." Every body looked at , Miss Grimes ; and, I tell ye, she looked as if she 'd like*to crawl into some knot-hole — and I don't, know but what she did, for she made her disappearance amazin' soon after. And, then, them seminary gals — gracious ! how they did eat ! I s'pose they was half- starved at Miss Pinchem's. Afore long the table was purty well cleared, and Miss Scrantum had to go to the buttry and bring on all 't was left, "'♦guess every thing in the house that could be eat, without stoppin' to cook it, was made way with that night. When the seminary gals had eat all they wanted, they amused themselves a throwin' hunks o' cheese and buttered biscuit at the young men. After most o' the other eatables had been disposed of, Dave Eunyon, great gump ! went into the buttry and brought out the box o' raisins that was to go toward Cappen Smal- ley's pew-rent, and handed 'em round. Every body grabbed, especially the seminary gals, and children, tin t^er wa'n't one left in the box. When supper was about finished,- Jane Elizy Fustick (she's always a tryin' to dew something cunnin'), she went into the store-room and got a chain o' sassages, that old Miss Crocker brought, and come along shly and throw'd 264: WIDOW BED.OTT PAPERS. it round Lipli_ Peabody' s shoulders. Liph, lie was a standin' by tbe tea board a drinkiu' a cup o' coffee. When he felt the sassages come floppin' round his neck, he was skairt, and whisked round suddenly and hit the tea-board, and knocked it off onto the floor, and smash went every thing on it I What made it more aggravatin' was, ther was a dozen chany cups and sarcers on it that Miss Scrantum had fetcht out after the folks come out to supper. They was some that she sot a great deal by ; her mother giv 'em tew her, and her mother was dead. She dident bring 'em on at first, for fear they 'd git broke. She sot on all her common crockery, and borrerd a good deal at Smalley's store, calculatin' if any on 't was broke to pay for 't. But when she see so many folks come crowdin' out, she was afeard ther wouldent be cups enough, so she fetcht out her mother's chany cups and sot 'em on the tea-board. But Glory Ann got along without usin' 'em, and there they sot, and when the tea-board fell, they fell tew, and every one on 'em was broke or cracked. Gracious I how Miss Scrantum looked when she see her precious chany all to pieces. She dident say a word, but her lips quivered, and she trembled all over. But she seemed to overcome it in a minnit, and went away and brought a basket and begun to pick up the pieces, and Jeff and I took hold and helped her. A good many o' the company had gone back into the parlor ; but ther was eneugh left THE DONATION PARTY. 265 to trackrtlie sassage round, and, my goodness I what work tliey made with 'em 1 While we was a picMh' up the crockery, all of a sudden ther was a terrible hul- lerballoo in the~parlor — Jeff and me rushed in to see what- was the matter, and gracious granfather! what do you s'pose it was ? Why one o' them pesky sem- inary gals' had throw'd^a hunk o' cheese and hit Miss Scrantum's parlor lamp that was a settin' on the table, and knocked it over and broke it all to flinders. But that wa'n't the wost on 't — ^where it tumbled over it fell right onto that plum-colored sattiii: bunnit, and the ile run all over it in a minnit. Afore anybody colild ketch the bunnit, one side on 't, ribbon and all, was completely ruined. Such a sight as 't was, you'never sot your tew lookin' eyes on ! All the Ue that dident go onto the bunnit was soaked up in the paper that Jeff took, that was a lyin' right aside on 't, and the biggest part o' that was spiled tew. My grief! how I did feel when I see that beautiful bunnit in such a condition 1 And poor Miss Scrantum turned pale as death, and Susan cried like every thing. I axed Sam Lippincott (the doctor's red-headed boy) who 'twas that throwed the cheese- — he pinted out the gal, and I goes up to her, and, says I — "You good-for-nothin' little huzzy hain't you no better manners than to be a throwin' cheese at other folkses lamps in that way ?" She was a real sassy little thing, and dident care a straw for what she'd done. She looked up and 12 266 -WIDOW BEDOTT FAPEES. grinned as imperdent as could be, and says ste— "Ex- cuse me, marm — -I tad n't the most remote idee o' hittm' tlie lamp. I meant to aim at Sam lippincott's head, and mistook the lamp for it. I 'm sure you can't blame me for makin sich a natral mistake." Did you ever ! I was a good mind to hit her a cuff aside o' the head, but I dident, I told Miss Pinchem on 't, though, the next day — and she punished the huzzy by keepin' her on bread and water a week. Jeff said 't was a very, equinomical kind o' punishment. Well, the party broke up purty soon after this scrape, and Jeff and me went hum. Jeff went off to bed. Yer uncle was out ; dear me I how I did dread meetin' him! Afore vlong he come in. "Well," says he, " how did the party go off^" " 0, well enough," says I; "but I'm tired and sleepy, and we won't talk about it to-night." The fact is, I felt tew mean to tell him the truth — but in the momin', when Jeff come down, he let it all out. My grief! how yer uncle did crow over me. "Didn't I tell ye so?" says he; " don't ye wish you hadn't a went?" " Yes," says I, " if it 's any satisfaction tew ye to know it — I dew wish so." "I know'd ye would," says h.e. I verily believe he was glad the bunnit got spiled. The next mornin', as soon as I got my chores done up, I went over to Mr. Scrantum's to see how they come on, and help 'em regilate a Httle. Murder-alive 1 Buoh a sight as that house was, from one end to t' other, THE DONATION" PARTY. 267 I never sot my tew ■ lookin' eyes on! The carpets was all greased up with, butter, and cheese, and sassa- ges. And then the lamp lie had done more mischief than we know'd on the night afore. It had run off the table and made a cruel great spot on the best car- pet ; and I found Miss Scrantum a tryin' to wash it out. I sot tew and helped her — ^but 't want no use — 't wouldent come out. ' Susan, she was a settin' on a little stool a scourin' teaspoons, and cryin' as if her heart would break. "What's the matter, dear?" says I— but the poor child couldent answer me. So her mother said she was a cryin' about the bunnit bein' spiled. "No wonder," says I, "it's enough to make any body cry. I s'pose you can't dew nothin' with the bunnit, can you?" " O, yes," says Miss Scrantum, says she ; " I 've ben lookin' at it this morn- in', and I think I can -get enough out of it to make a bag of. It '11 make a very nice bag— and I shall keep it as long as I live, for your sake, Miss Maguire." I looked at the woman with surprise. There she sot on the floor, a rubbin' away at that grease spot, and a talkin' as calmly about that six dollar bunnit, as if - it hadent a cost more'n six cents. I was kind o' vexed a her for not makin' more fuss about it. I ac- tilly begun to think she hadent no feelin', and dident care for nothing. "And then," says I, "to think o' their breakin' your beautiful chany — 't was shameful —a present from her mother tew ; and you sot so 268 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. mucli by it ; and I 've ]ieerd ye say 't was the last thing yer mother ever giv ye." I was a riinnin' on in that way when I thought I heerd Miss Scrantum sob — I looked up and she was a cryin' dretfully. She couldent hold in no longer when I spoke o' the chany. I was sorry I said a word aboiit it ; but it convinced me that Miss Scrantum had feelins, deep feelins ; but she'd larn't to control 'em, poor woman! Well, I stayed a spell and helped 'em clean up, and then I went hum. Susan went to the door with me. When we got outside, I axed her whether ther was many provisions brought in the night afore. She told me to come to the store-room and look. So I went into 't and took a view, and there was tew or three punkins, a couple o' spare ribs {sj)are enough, tew, I tell ye), three or four cabbages, a chicken, what was left o' Deacon Peabody's cheese, and a codfish. "Is that all?" says I. "Yes," says Susan, "and half o' .the cheese, and one o' the spare ribs and the chicken are to go for pew-rent — I heerd pa teU ma so ; but you mustent let 'em know I told you about it — ^for they 'd think it wrong for me to speak of it ; you won't tell 'ebi, wil] you. Miss Maguire?" "No, darlin'," says I, " I won't let it out." So I went hum — and as I went along considerin' the matter, I come to a unanimous conclusion in my own mind, that donation parties was a humbug. Well, the next Sunday Parson Scrantum requested THE DONATION PABTY. 26^ fhe male members of his congregation to meet him the next evenin' at . the meetin'-house. Ter uncle •went to the meetin'. I was in a wonderful fidgit to know what was the object on 't — and quite impatient for husband to come hum. When he come I obsarved he was oncommonly tickled about something. " "What is the matter? dew tell, for pity's^ s*ake,"' says I. ""Why, the minister's axed a dismission," says he. "You don't!" says I. "Jest so," says he; and then lie haw-haw'd out a laffin. " "What ails ye, man alive ?" says I ; "I don't see what ther is to laff at in that ; for ' my part, I look upon 't as a great misfortin to Scrabble Hill, to lose such a minister as Parson ScranWm. I'm astonished to see ypu laff." " "Well, you won't be," says he, "when I tell ye about the meetin'." 'So he went on and gin me the hull description. He said, that when Mr. Scrantum told 'em he wanted a dismis- sion, they was wonderful surprised — Deacon Skinner he riz and axed the reason. So Mr. Scrantum stated that he found it bnpossible to support his family on his salary. Deacon Skinner said that was curus — he thought four hundred dollars was purty well up. Dea- con Peabody said he thought so tew, especially with a donation party besides. Deacon Fustick, he put in, and sp,id 't was ruther a queer time for a minister to com- plain of his congregation, jest after they 'd gin him a hee — and he axed Dr. Lippincott what was. liis opinion. (Now Dr. Lippincott ^never had, an opinion in all his 270 "WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEE3. life, on any subject — if lie tad, lie never expressed it for fear of injurin' Ms practice ; 't ain't even known, what his politics is — ^he always contrives to be awr on election days.) So he hemmed and hawed, and said that really he had n't made up his mind — ^he hoped Mr. Scrantum 'pr6ciated his donation party — ^he hoped the congregation 'predated Mr. Scrantum ; he wished — he wished things was n't sittiwated jest as they was sittiwated ; and that was all they got out of him. Old Parker observed that minister's families, somehow, * took more to support 'em than any body else. Mr. Scrantum said that his family was as equinomical as they could be, but he had a good many children, and 't was purty dif&cult to dew as he 'd ought tew by 'em on four hundred dollars a year ; axed 'em whether they thought ary one o' them could dew it. Cappen Small ey, rich old curmudgin, stuck up l^s head and said he guessed he could dew it — any reasoiiabh man could dew it — especially with the help of a donation party every, year; but he hoped Mr. Sorantum's re- quest would be g'ranted unanimously for his part, he'd long ben of opinion they 'd ought to have a cheaper minister, and one that had n't such a snarl o' young ones. I don't s'pose Parson Scrantum would a said any thing severe if it hadent a ben for Cappen Smal- ley's speech. He seemed quite stirred up by it. He riz up considerable flustrated, and says he — " I thank God, that what ever else I lack, He has ben pleased to THE DONATION PARTY. 271 give me plenty o' ttie poor man's blegsins — yea, a" quiyer full of them. And it 's for their sakes, not fliy own, tliat I come here to-night. If I was alone in fihe world, I could 'and would dew on a' most nothing — though Seripter says the laborer is worthy of his hire. Brethren, since I come among you, I 've done my best to be a faithful pastor — if I 've failed I hope to be forgiven. At first I had an idee that I should be able to rub along, on my small salary ; and I don't know, but I might a done it, if it had n't a ben for one thing." Here he paused. " What was that?" says Deacon Peabody. Mr. Scrantum continued — ."I've ben here teV years, and you 've had the kindness to give me tew donation parties. I 've stood it so fur, but I can't stand it no longer; brethren, I feel con- vinced that one more donation party would completely breah me down, I wUl now retire and leave the meet- in' to decide as they see fit." Yer uncle said that for about five minutes after he went out universal silence prevailed. The firsi to speak was Deacon Skinner. " Strange !" says he. " Gurus I" says Deacon Peabody. " iSeemarkable !" says Deacon Fustick. " Onaccoiint- able !" says Cappen Smalley. " Singular circum- stance !" says Dr Lippincott. Then yer uncle got up, and, says he — " Gentlemen, I don't see as any thing's to be gained by settin' here and wonderin' all night. For my part, 'I think all Parson Scrantum 's said is true — his request is perfectly reasonable — and I 272 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. move it be put to vote." So 't was put to vote and granted. A few days afterward the minister's folks packed up and started off for Miss Scrantum's father's, to stay till they could git another place. Ter uncle gin 'em ten dollars when they went. He 'd a ben glad to give fifty if he 'd a ben able. They was very thabkful for 't, and the parson gin us his partin' blessin', and I'd ruther have that than all Cappen Smalley's money. We all felt bad enough when we said good-by. Miss Scrantum cried hard — she dident try to conceal her feelins. then. Susan cried tew, and so did I — and we had-a gineral time kissin' all round ; as true as I live, Jeff, he kissed Susan tew — ^but don'f you teaze him about it ; ,1 was glad to see him dew it, though Susan did blush awfully. They made us promise to come and see 'em if ever they got another sittiwation. We 've heerd lately that the. parson had got a call to Bangtown. I don't know nothia' about the village, but I hope to gracious it 's a place where donation par- ties is a thing unknown. XXIV. ^smti at ^mMi fill TTTE 're a gwine to have a Sewin' Society at Scrabble Hill. Miss Birsley, lawyer Birsley's wife, -was the first one that proposed it. She hain't lived here but about a year, and she 's always ben used to such societies where she come from, so she felt as if she 'd like to have one here. Miss Birsley's jest the woman to take hold o' any such thing. She's a wonderful active little body, and a real good woman tew. But, above all,' she 's got a way o' sayin' jest what she pleases to every body without even givin' any offense. I 've often wondered how it was that Miss Birsley could speak her mind so freely and never make no enemies by it. Why, if I should venter to talk half so plain as she does I should be univarsally hated. But she comes right out with every thing she thinks, and yet she's more popilar than any other woman in the place. I guess it must be because folks has found out that she never says no wuss about 'em to their backs than she says to their faces. 12* \ 274 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. * "Wellj slie come into our liouse one day last week (sTie and I 's very good friends) ; she come in and axed me how I 'd like to jine a Sewin' Socifety for benevolent purposes? I told her that not knowin' I couldent say, for 'I hadent never belonged to none. So she went into an explanation ; and after I understood the ,natur of 'em I liked the idee, and said I 'd go in for it. So she wanted me to go round with her and talk it up to the folks ; and as I dident see no reason why I shouldent, I put on my things and off we ' started. The first place we went to was the minister's — ^we thought we 'd like to see what Miss Tuttle thought about it afore we spoke to any body else. Well, Miss Tuttle said she approved o' sowin' societies — she thought they was quite useful when they was properly conducted. She dident know how the plan would work here — at any rate, it t^^s well enough to try, and she 'd be glad to help uslill she was able to. N"ex;t we went to Deacon Skinner's. The Widder Grimes and Charity was there spendin' the day, so we discussed the pint with 'em all. Miss Skinner and the gals seemed quite took with the idee ; but Charity and her mother rather hesitated at first, but after they'd axed forty questions, and we'd told 'em all about it, and they 'd satisfied themselves that they could git along without givin' any thing more than their time for an hour or tew a week, and git their tea to boot, they agreed to jine. So Miss Birsley took CONTEMPLATED SEWING SOCIETT. 275 down their names. We dident tSbnclnde ■what we should dew with the avails o' our labor — ^thought we 'd discuss that matter at the first meetin', and Miss Birsley said she 'd have 'em meet to her house the next week a Wensday. When we come away fi-om there, I says, says I, " We must n't forgit to go to see Liddy Ann Buill." " yes," says Miss Birsley, " the old maid that keeps the milliner's shop." Now I hadent the least idee she 'd jine, but I know 'd she never 'd forgive us if we dident call on. her. She's a curus critter — consates that some folks feels above her, and it makes her won- derful oncomfortable. She 's always on a look out for slights and insults, and o' course she thinks she gits plenty on 'em. She hates Deacon Fustick's wife like pizen, on account o' some remarks she heerd o' Miss Fustick's makin' about the ostridge feathers she wore on her bunnit winter afore last. Miss Fustick said afore old Miss Crocker, that she thought Liddy Ann Buill was tew old to wear pl.umes. Old mother Crocker went straight and told Liddy Ann on 't, and she was hoppin' mad about it. She went round talkin' about Miss Fustick at a terrible rate; Of course. Miss Fustick talked back agin, and it led to an awful quarrel that ain't made up yet. That bunnit was 2k curiosity though. Blue velvet with a couple o' great long jailer feathers tipped with pink on' t, and red flowers in the inside. " I know she won't jine," 276 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. says I ; " but we may as well call, for slie '11 be- awful mad if we dou't." " I guess I can manage her," says Miss Birsley. "I know she tbinks I feel above ber, but I '11 see ef I can't convince ber she mistaken." So in -vfe goes — Liddy Ann was a sewin' a straw bunnit. She 's ginerally pretty perlite to me — I s'pose sbe thinks I ain't proud;— but when she see me long o' Miss Birgley, she thought I 'd naturally feel ruther lifted up (bein' as Miss Birsley belongs to the upper -crust), and so she 'd treat me accordin'ly. She looked up when we come in, and gin us a wonderful stiff bow — never laid by her sewin' — dident even ax us to sit down — ^but there she sot, head up, nose ia the air (she 's got a sing'lar way o' turnin' up her nose at folks), with a real I 'm-as-good-as-you-be look on her face, and sewed away as if her life depended on 't. I felt ruther aukerd, but Miss Birsley dident seem to. She looked down into the show-box that sot on the counter, and says she, " What a beautiful assortment o' ribbins — ^you 've jest got 'em up, hain't you, Miss BuiU ?" " I have," says Liddy Ann. " That green and white plaid one 's a beauty," says Miss Birsley — " "Won't you please to let me look at it ?" " Can't you lift the kiver and take it out yerself ?" says Liddy Ann, says she. "O yes, to be sure," says Miss Birsley — " I dident know as I might." So she took " it out and admired it wonderfully. " What a firm stout ribbiu it is tew ?" says she—" Why, Miss Buill, CONTEMPLATED SEWING SOCIETY. 277 you make better selections than the merchants dew." " When /buy ribbins I buy ribbins, and not shavin's," says Liddy Ann. " So I see," says Miss Birsley. "I'll take three yards on 't, if you please." I won- dered whether the critter 'd condescend to git up and wait on her — ^but she couldent help it — so she riz with a great deal o' dignity and measured it off.' Miss Birsley paid for 't; and then she happened to notice a straw bunnit that laid on the shelf— 't was one that Liddy Ann had been Sewin' over for Loanthy Petti- bone — " How white this bunnit is !" says she — " I don't see how you can make old straw look so nice." " When I bleech hats I bleech 'em," says Liddy Ann ; " I don't tan 'em." " So I perceive says Miss Birsley, says she — " but I declare I 'd a' most forgot my arrand — we 're a tryiri' to raise a, Sewin' Society, Miss Buill, and we called to see whether you wouldent jine ?" "Me!" says Liddy Ann, lookin' a leetle grain pleasanter'n she did afore^-" well, T don'tknow — ■ I'm fearful you won't succeed in yer undertakin'." "'Why not?" says I. "0," says she, "society here ain't united as it ought to ,be — ^indiwiddiwals don't pull together at all." " Well, then," says Miss Birsley, "mabby a Sewin' Society would be the means o' makin' 'em more united-— it promotes good feelin' to meet together atid work for some benevolent objict — makes folks take an interest in one another, you know." " 0, but 't wouldent be the case here," says 278 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. Liddy Ann ; " ttere 's tew mucTi rastocratical feelin' ' — some o' the members would carry their heads so high, and think themselves so much better 'n some others ; and them others would know they was jest as good as the rest — ^for my part, shouldent want to put myself in the way o' bein' put down and stompt on afterward by Deacon Fustick's wife and such." Miss Birsley, she raised her hands and eyes, and says she, " Thailand alive I — well, I declare, if I ain't beat now to hear you go on at such a rate, Miss Buill ! You look well a talkin' about aristocracy when you 've got more on 't than.anytody else in the village. Why, I always thought you was very proud and haughty ; and I guess it 's the general impression that you feel ■ above your neighbors. I was half afeared to come in here to-day, you 've always been so*scornful toward me ; but now I am here, I feel as if I must speak plainly — and I '11 teU you what, if you raly want society to be united, you' must be the first to set the example. You must lay aside some o' yer pride, and consent to associate with yer neighbors on equil tirms." (Liddy Ann's nose come down a peg, and she raly looked quite gratified. Thinks me, these ere folk^ that's forever a blazin' away about aristocracy, are always willin' enough to have the name o' bein' aristo- crats themselves, and would be so actilly if they had a chance). Miss Birsley went on — " Now, if you 're sincere ' in- what you say, do, for pity's sake, show it OOITTEMPLATED SEWING SOCIETY. 279 by comia' to tte Se-win' Society. We expect all the other girls '11 come — the Skinners have agreed to, and we intend to call on the rest, and no doubt they '11 jine." Liddy Ann's nose come down another peg to hear hCTself classed with the girls. She looked eny most good-natered. ""Well, I'll see about it," says she — "but why don't you take some cheers and set down?" "Because you hain't invited us tew," says MisS Birsley. " Dear me," says Liddy Ann, " how forgitful I be!" '/No matter," says Miss Birsley, " we can't stay to set down now — but you tw.7Z jine ns, won't you? we depend a great deal on your taste, and the other girls all seem to give up to you in that re- spect." Liddy Ann fairly dropt her nose to a level -with other folkses, and actilly smiled, and says she — " Well, takin' all things into consideration, I ruther guess I will jine." So Miss Birsley took down her name, and told her not to fail to attend the first meetin' at her house next Wensday. She promised she 'd come ; and then she went to the door with us mighty gracious, and hoped w© 'd call on her agin. After we 'd got on a piece, says I, " WeU I dew say for 't, I never was more beat in all my born days than I was to see you git round that cross-grained old critter as you did ! I dident know afore that you ever used any soft soapf but I 'm sure you daubed it onto Liddy Ann right and left ; 't was the best way after aU though, for if you 'd a took her to task about beiu' 280 WIDOW J3ED0TT PAPEES. jealous and' suspicious, she 'd a ben tearin' mad, and like endugli showed us the door, and then went round and jawed about us afterward." " Jest so," says Miss Birsley, " the only way to deal with such folks is to try to make them satisfied with themselves ; make 'em think you look upon 'em as persons o' some conse- quence, and they '11 dew any thing you want 'em tew; and then, tew, there 's a satisfaction in it, because it makes 'em feel so much more comfortable and good- natered." The next place we went to was Dr. Lippincott's. Miss Lippincott was pleased with the idee of a Sewin' Society, and said she 'd jine. Anny Mariar sot there a playin' on the pianner, and we axed her if she wouldent take hold and help us? "Dear me, no!" says she ; "I can't bear to sew, and, besides, I don't understand it. I never had to sew any." " How old are you?" says Miss Birsley. " Eighteen," says Anny Mariar. " The land alive !" says Miss Birsley, " eight- een year old and don't know how to sewl — and you can set there and tell on 't without blushin' ! Why what 's yer Aa ben thinkin' about all this time to neg- lect yer eddication so ? I declare, I must tell Dick o' that ; I shan't allow him to git interested in a young lady that don't know how to sew" — (Dick was her nephew ; he was a studyin' law with Mr. Birsley, and was quite 'attentive to Anny Mariar.) " "Well," she went on, " it 's high time you larnt, and if you '11 come CONTEMPLATED, SEWING SOCIETY. 281 to the Se-win' Society, I'll engage to teach you." MissBirsley said all this in a pleasant, good-natered ■way, but Miss Lippincott felt it, and so did Anny Ma- riar. I guess she begun to suspect that, after all, 't wa'n't so wonderful lady-like not to know how to sew. She promised she 'd attend the meetin' next week. '.'That 's good," says Miss Birsley ; " but don't for pity's sake, wear all them petticoats, for I don't think ther 'U be room for 'em if the meetin's large." "When we come from there, we started for Deacon Fustick's and while we was a crossin' the road we ob- served Cappen Smalley a standin' in hia store door. " There 's the cappen," says Miss Birsley, " now we '11 go in and make him give us something to begin with." "Gracious sakes !" says "I, "I hope you don't expect to squeeze, any thing out o' him?" " To be sure I dew," says she. " Well, you '11 find yerself mistaken," says I; "for he never gives nothing to no objict — al- ways takes it out in talkin'." "You see 'f I don't make him hand over," says she. "When the cappen see us a comin' he w'ent in so 's to be ready to wait on us. " Cappen,' says Miss Birsley, " we hain't come to trade to-day ; we 've come on bizness. "We ladies are thinkin' o' startin' a Sewin' Society for benevolent objicts, and it 's quite important to git the opinion o' the leadin' men o' the place afore we begin. What do you think 9' the plan, cappen?" "A' capital plan, says he, " a most excellent idee. I 've long been of 282 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEE3. opinion that somethin' o' .the kind was needed here — ■ it 's a great satisfaction to be laborin' for the good of our feller-critters. To what particHer purpouse do you intend to devote the avails o' yer labor ?" " Well," says she, ",we hain't decided yet; we shall \f ait till we git started, and then consider the matter — ther 'p enough ways o' dewin' good with money, you know." " Exactly," says the cappen, says he, " and I would suggest the idee o' your expendin' yer funds in the purchase of articles o' clothin' for the poor ; ther 's a great number in destitute circumstances in this place, and it strikes me it would be a great satisfaction to the ladies to furnish 'em with comfortable apparril." " That is a good idee," says Miss Birsley — " don't you think so. Miss Maguire " " Yes," says I. " I 'm glad it strikes you favorably," says the cappen, says he ; " and come to think, I have on hand a variety o' ma- terials that would be suitable to make garments for the poor ; and if you see fit to purchase, I 'il let you have 'em at first cost, seein' it 's for a benevolent objict. In such cases it 's always a satisfaction to me to sell low." " You 're very kind," says Miss Birsley, " we '11 mention it at the meetin' ; but we 've got to have some funds to begin with. You can give us something, Is'pose?" " Well, raly," says the cappen, says he, rubbin' his hands together, " I 'm very sorry, very, indeed, that it's happened so. It's very inconvenient jest now — ■ in fact, its onpossible for me to give any thing at this CONTEMPLATED SEWING SOCIETY. 283 time. I have a large remittance to make very soon to New York, and, of course I can't spare a penny. "We men o' bizuess that have large outstandin' debts are often more put to 't for ready money than- a day-labor- er — ^jt 's very vexatious, very, indeed." "Yes," says Miss Birsley, " it must be so — ^it must be very tryin' to you to be scant o' money when you have a call to contribbit, it 's such a satisfaction to you to give " — (here she gia me a hunch) — " but that don't make no difference to us, we 'd jest as live take something out o' the store^^for instance, some o' this ere cotton cloth — (and she stept up to a pile o' shirtia' that laid on the counter) — " you 'd esteem it a privilege to give us a piece o' this." "But — ^but," says the cappen, "I raly don't feel." "Now, cappen," says Miss Birsley, "you needent apologize a word,, this is very nice cloth and it '11 be jest as good to us as money — ^it 'II make first rate shirts, and we can always fiiad ready market for good shirts." " But," says he, " consider a minnit — a piece o' shirtin' is — " " O now, don't talk so, cappen," says she ; " a piece o' shirtin 's jest exactly as good as "any thing else, and we 'd jest as live have it as the money; for if we had the money we should have to spend it to buy materials to begin on. "We know 't would be more of a satisfaction to you to give us five dollars if 'twas convenient; but seein' it ain't, we 're perfectly willin' to take this. — so j«st please to dew it up ;" so she picked out one o' the best pieces 284 WIDO-W BEDOTT PAPEES. and tumHed it down toward tim. The cappen lie looked awfal womblecropt — I declare, I raly pitied the poor man — he hesitated a minnit, and then, c^n you believe it? -he actilly took the cloth and done it up !- — but I tell ye, I never see such an oncomfortable look- in' countenance as his 'n while he was a dewin' on 't. "Now," says Miss Birsley, "I '11 trouble you to write on 't — ' Thirty-one yards shirtin' presented to the La- dies' Sewin' Society by Captain Smalley.'" So he took a pen and writ it, and I '11 be hanged if he did- ent look as if he was a signin' his own death warrant. "Much obleeged to ye," says Miss Birsley, and she took np the cloth and we come off. When we got to the door, she turned round, and says she, " Mabby it will be a satisfaction to ye, cappen, to buy some o' the shirts after we git '.em made ?", The cappen he gin a ghastly grin, and a peculiar kind of a bow as much as to say — "You see 'f you ketch me agin," and so we bid Mm good-afternoon, and left him to his medita- tions. " "Well," says I, "I'U give it up now! — ^if I hadent a seen it with my own eyes, I never 'd a be- lieved it, never ! How astonished every body '11 be when they hear on 't?" "Yes," says Miss Birsley; " but we mustent let on how we got it out of him — 't ain't right to tell o' such things — we must let folks think he gin it of his own accord." " Jest so," says I; but, thinks me, its tew good to keep, and I must teU Mr. Qod^ on 't, though I won't mention it to any body CONTEMPLATED SEWING SOCIETY. 285 else. Well, it -was a pretty Beavy load to carry, and Miss Birsley proposed we should take it into her hus- band's office and leave it. ' The office was nigh by, so we goes in. Miss Birsley huT it down, and says she to her nephew, " There, Dick, I wan't you to bring that up when you come home to-night." Squire Birs- ley looked at it and read the wrii/in', and says he, "You don't mean to say that Cappen Smalley gin you this?" "To be sure he did," says she ; "don't you believe his own words ?" " Pretty cunnin' in you," says the squire, " to git it in writin', for fear he 'd be down on yer society with a bUl." " law I" says she, "jest as if I done it for that." Dick Wilson he look- ed up kind o' knowin', and says • he, " It talces you to come it, Aunt Lucy." Next we went to Deacon Fustick's. Miss Fustick and Jane Elizy had gone to Deacon Peabody's to tea, so we went round there, and had a chance to see 'em all at once. Miss Peabody's entirely governed by Miss Fustick in every thing, so she waited to see what Miss Fustick would say afore she expressed her opin- ion about the Sewin' Society; and Miss Fustick don't want to go into any thing without she can be head man, and as she was n't sure how she 'd stand in the Sewin' Society, she hesitated a spell. At last she said she had her doubts about it — dident like to undertake a thing tUl she was convinced 't would promote the interests o' religion— (Miss Fustick 's awful pious ♦&<;- 286 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. cordin' to her idees o' piety.) Of course, Miss Pea- body had her doubts tew, about jinin' the society. Miss Birsley and me, we both said tew 'em that Ve 'd no doubt but what the Sewin' Society would be the means o' dewin' a great deal o' good if 't was properly conducted. Well, Miss Fustick said she was onsartin' about bein' able to attend — ^her time was pretty much took up — she was Superintendent o' the Maternal So- ciety, President o' the Daughters o' Temperance, and Gorrespondin' Secretary to the Friends o' Humanity, and she was afeard she couldent consistently do much for the Sewin' Society ; but she 'd try to attend occa- sionally — at least she 'd make it a subject o' prayer, and try to find out what was duty in the case. Of course, Miss Peabody said she 'd try to attend tew — and then we axed ther daughters whether they 'd come ? Sophrony Peabody inquired whether the gentlemen was a gwine to attend ? We said that hadent been thought of yet. ■ And Jane Elizy Fustiok said she hoped in all favor they wouldent — if they did, she wouldent any how — she couldent bear to have the fel- lers stickin' round. "Why can't you speak the truth," says Miss Birsley, " and say you won't come without they do ?" At last they both said they 'd jine. Next, we went into Jo Gipson's, and there we found Tom Hodges' wife a visitin' with her young one. Of aU the children I ever see, that boy 's the disagreea- blest i but his mother don't think bo. She makes a CONTEMPLATED SE-WING SOCIETY. 287 natral fool of him — always takes him every where with her, and it takes every body in the house to at- tend to him. He was a settin' on his mother's lap eat- in' an awfal great hunk o' cake, makin' a dretful growl- in' noise over it that any most prevented our hearin' one another talk. After we 'd discussed the Sewin' Society with the ladies, and they 'd both said they 'd' jine, Miss Birsley says to the young one, " Come here and- see me, bub." "Me won't I" says he. "He'd ruther stay by his mommy, hadent he, darlin' ?" says Miss Hodge. " Stay there, then, if you want to, little cross-patch," says Miss Birsley. I felt ruther sorry to hear her speak out so, so I says, " What 's yer name, ducky?" "Nun o' oo bidness!" says he. "0 now," says his mother, " can't he be a little man and tell the ■ lady his name ?" " Me won't I" says he, and he hit his mother a slap in the face, "Now that ain't prit- ty," says she ; " mommy '11 cry," so she put her hands up to her face and pretended to cry; After a spell, says she, "Now^ell the lady his name nice and pritty, and then mommy '11 stop cryin'." But instid o' tellin' his name, he begun to bawl for more cake.. " "Wait a minnit. Miss Gipson," says Miss Hodge, "I want the ladies to hear him tell his name, he says it so sweet and cunnin'. Now tell the lady his name, and then he shall have more cake." "Yando Puffle Hogs," says the little torment. - "That's a darlin'," says his mother — " now, Miss Gipsoa may git him a great big 288 WIDO'W BEDOTT PAPERS. pieee o' cake." " "WTiat did lie say Hs name was?" says Miss Birsley. " Orlando Percival Hodge," says his mother. "The land alive !" says Miss Birsley, " I . declare I don't blame the young one for not wantin' to tell his name." "What! don't you like it?" says Miss Hodge. " No," says Miss Birsley ; " I don't ad- mire double names any ■way, especially such awful jaw-breakers as that." " "Why how you talk," says Miss Hodge, " for my part, I think boyS names always ought to be double. I told his pa I wanted to give him a name that would sound well in Congress one o' these days, and I think 'Orlando P. Hodge' will." "The land alive!" says Miss Birsley, "I s'pose you think that Henry Clay 'd be a much greater man if his name was Henry P. Clay. And George Washing- ton, tew, no doubt he 'd a made a great deal more noise in the world if his name had a ben Greorge P. Washington. What a pity 't wa'n't — but you needent be calculatin' on seein' your boy a member o' Congress — his name 'U be the death of him afore he comes to matiuity. Did you ever considerv that 't was 0. P. H?" "Gracious !" says Miss Hodge, " it never struck me afore." "Miss Birsley," says I, "it's time for us to go." "So 'tis," says she. "Well, ladies, we shall expect to see y6u at the meetin' next Wensday ; but. Miss Hodge, don't you bring 0. P. H., for I shan't have time to stuff him." Well, from there, we went over to Professor Stub- CONTEMPLATED SEWING SOCIETY. 289 bleses to preaent the case to Miss Stubbles and Jeru- sby. Miss Stubbles is quite a clever woman, and a good member o' society as fur as she dares to be ; but she 's dretfuUy under the Professor's thumb, and he 's a wonderful curus man ; he 's got some o' the oddest notions in his head that ever you heerd of— thinks that property ought to be equOly divided— calls all rich men oppressors, and all the laborin.' class abused and deprived o' their rights — holds that men and wim- min ought to be eddicated jest alite. He 's always a whali^' away about the dignity o' labor — ^has jest ben deliverin' a course o' lecters on the subjict, and he calls all men that don't take hold and dew kitchen work, domestic tyrants ; but he has such a bhnd, twistical way o' talkin', that a body can't tell what he means half the time^husband says he don't know himself what he 's a drivin' at. When we got there, Miss Stubbles was in the side yard a splittin' wood ; she come round and went in with us. They hadent no fire only in the kitchen, so she took us in there. The professor was a ehurnin' — I thought I should go off when I see him. He 's a great, tall, lank, ongainly man, and there he stood with a check apron on, a ehurnin' away like fury — he did look like old Time. Their overgrown gawkey son, Nathan, was a settin' the tea-table. There 's somethin' wonderful quizzical about the boy's looks. ' His clus is a great deal tew small for him, and he looks as if he was jest a gwine 13 290 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. to bust out of 'em like a cMoken out o' tlie shell. He looked •wonderfal sober a settin' tbe table; but they say lie 's up to all sorts o' tricks away from home. We inquired for Jerushy, aiid they said' she 'd gone to milk. Well, we told our bizneSs, and axed Miss Stubbles if she 'd jine the society ? - She' looked at the Professor to see how he took it afore. she answered us — so I says, says I, ^' What do ytm think o' the plan, Professor Stubbles ?'' The Professor giv three or four awful hams to clear out his throat, and then says he, " Did I believe 'that an organization of this descrip- tion would be a labor-promotin' association, I would give it my heart-willing approval." "No doabt it win be so," says Miss Birsley. " Ladies," says he, " it is high time that the dignity of labor was appreciated world-wide." (We see he was in for a speech, so we let him go on.) " It 's high time that -the -purse-proud and vice-bloated aristocracy o' the land was compelled to toil like the hard-handed sons and daughters of honest poverty ; — ^it 's high time that the artificial ar- rangements of society was done away, and this sin- distracted, folly-bewildered, hag-ridden world was governed by such la-^-s as the 'Great Heart of the uni- verse originally intended. Ladies, the earth-mission of mundane, souls is twofold; first, to discharge with self-interest-sacrificing zeal our duty toward down-trod- den humanity ; second, to perform with soul-earnest, wife-assisting, daughter-helping, labor-loving fidelity, "Here the chum-daslier come down with auoh a vengeance, that the cream spirted up and spattered all round." , page 291. CONTEMPLATED SEWING SOCIETY 29J such, domestjc services as stall be to be performed at home; and I pronounce that goul -who refuses to ac- knowledge the dignity of household labor, a pride-be- sotted, contempt-deserving, heaven-provoking churl." Here the churn-dasher come down with such a ven- geance, that the cream spirted up and spattered all round, and some on 't went onto Miss Birsley's shawl. "The land ahve!" says she, "that was dignified, any how." Miss Stubbles jumped up to clean it off. "Set still, Miss Stubbles," says Miss Birsley, "it's the Pro- fessor's bizness to repair the mischief. Come, Profes- sor, git a wet cloth and wipe off my shawl afore the grease soaks in." The Professor looked mad and dident stir. ""Well," says she, "accordin' to what you jest advanced, you must own yerself to be a pride- besotted wretch. Now, Professor, I should like to know if it would n't be ruther more dignified for you to go out and split wood, than 't is to make yer wife do it while you stay in the kitchen and chum? Would n't it be quite as dignified to send that great able-bodied boy to the pastur' to milk, as 'tis, to make Jerushy go ? It kind o' seems to me as if labor wa'n't dignified only when it 's done by the right persons, and in the right time and place. It seems to me as if it 's the best way for every body to dew ther duty in the station where Providence has placed 'em— • mabby it 's an artificial arrangement, but it strikes me as ruther a good one." The Professor looked quite 292 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. beat, and begun to liam and clear bis tbrq^tf and I see be was a preparin' to let oflf anotber speecb, so I says to Miss 3irsley, " Come, it 's time we was a gwine." So we riz to come away, and Miss Birsley says sbe, "Well, Professor Stubbles, I s'poseyou'll be offended if I don't invite you and Natban to come totbe Sewin' Society and belp us, but as my idees respectin' tbe dignity' o' labor differ from youxn, I tbink I 'd a leetle rutber bave Miss Stubbles and Jerusby come." Tbe Professor looked real wratby, but dident say notbing, and we left bim a cbumin' away for dear life. Well, tbe next day we went to tbe Parkers, and tbe Billinses, and tbe Stillman's, and tbe Pettibone's, and all round ; but 't would take tew long to go over witb tbe bull genealogy of all tbe calls we made. Enougb to say, we found most every body agreeable to tbe plan ; and wben tbey wa'n't in favor on 't, Miss Birs- ley argyd 'em into 't — ^so sbe sent 'a notice to Parson Tuttle, and yesterday be giv it out in meetin', request- in' all tbe ladies o' tbe congregation to meet next Wensday afternoon at tbe bouse of Squire Birsley, for tbe purpose of organizin' a Sewin' Society for be- nevolQpt objicts. XXV. ^mt Papiw tmtmms liit ^amwt at t\i T WISH io gracious you could attend one of our Sewin' Society meetin's. You never s^e nothin' to beat 'em, I ']! be bound for 't. We Ve bad tew now. At the first one, at Squire Birsley's, tber was twenty- five present. Miss Birsley bad got some sbirts cut out o' Cappen Smalley's clotb, and as fast as tbey come in sbe sot 'em to work— at least sbe gin 'em somB work, but tber was so mucb talkin' to dew tber was precious little sewin' done. Tber tongues went a good deal faster 'n tber fingers did, and tbe worst on 't was, tbey was all a runnin' at once. Tber was an everlastia' sigbt o' talkin', but it did seem as if tbey wouldent never come to no decision in creation. 'T wa'n't expected we sbould dew mucb at tbe first meetin' more 'n to elect tbe managers, and make up our minds bow often we sbould meet— and I begun to tbink we sbouldent dew even tbat mucb, tbere was sucb o' sigbt o' discussin' and disputin' about every thing. Some was for meetin' once a week, and some €94 v' WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEBS. thought 't-wag altogether too often. Some was for stayin' to tea, and some was opposed to 't. Some thought 't would be a good plan to stay and work evenin's, and some was of opinion 't would n't pay, bein' as we 'd have to bum so many candles and lamps. Ther w^'n't nothing said about what object we 'd work for at the first meetin' — thought we 'd leave that till nest time. Well, we talked and talked and talked, and the up- shot on 'twas, Miss Birsley was appinted ^resi&?ii5 — Miss Ben Stillman, Miss Dr. Lippincott and Miss Dea- con Fustick, managers — Polly Mariar Stillman secreta- ry, and Liddy Ann Buill, treasurer. Moreover, we agreed to meet once a fortnight; at tew o'clock in the afternoon, stay to tea acd work till dark. When we 'd got through with our bisness, we had tea — quite a •plain tea. Miss Birsley don't approve o' makin' much fuss for Sewin' Society — ^because if ye dew, ther '11 be some that '11 feel as if they couldent afford to have it to their houses. She dident give us but one kind o' cake, but 't was light and good, and so was the bread ; and we had sliced meat and cheese. Miss Birsley dident say nothing about it but she hoped the rest would foUer her example. I made up my mind /would any how, whether the rest did or not. Well the ladies aU eat as if they liked it, and they •praised up every thing at a wonderful rate. They never laid to6th to such bread, in all their lives ; the THE SEWING SOCIETT,,.- 2^ foutter was superfine ; tlie cold meat was delicious ; and for the cake it was a mystery to tHem how Miss Bits- lej. managed to always have suoK first-rate cake.' Miss Deacon Peabody declared she 'd eat such a hearty supper she was afeard she shbuld^be sick. After tea, Miss Jo Gripson invited us to- meet at theic house next time, and 'then we went hum. While w& was in the bed-room' a- puttin' on our things, Iheerd Miss Pea- bodj whisper to Miss StiUman and say, " Bjd you ever see any thing to beat that tea, in; all your £orn days ? Ko presarves at all !" " I never did,", says Miss StiU- man. " If I can't give 'em a better tea when they meet to our house, I 'U give up." Well, at the next meetin'' ther was about the same number present, and we talked up what we 'd dew with the money. The difficulty was, the members couldent agree upon nothin'r — some wanted to work for this objiot,- and some wanted to work for that. Miss Skinner and some o' the rest thought we 'd ought to sew for the missionaries, but most on 'em opposed it, 'cause they wanted to see what become o' the money. Miss Stubbles thought 't would be a good plan to es- tablish a school for the colored sect — I s'pose the Pro- fessor put her up to 't— but nobody else dident seem to be in favor on 't ; and Sister Bedott (she, attended), she said s^e never 'd agree to that, 't would be money throw'd away, for niggers would be niggers, dew wh^t ye would to elevate 'em. Miss Fustick (she come in ^6 W,IDOW BEDOTT PAPERS, and got a spell witli her things on — said she coxildent stay long, jest dropped in on lier way to the Matatnal Society, meetin'), she thonght we couldent dew better'n to give the avails of our lalaor to the "Sons o' Tem- pM-ance." " Son^ o' yer granny," says Liddy Ann -Buill, says she (you know she and' Miss Fustick 's a quarrelin'.) When she spoke up so, Miss Fustick looked awful mad, and got up to go : when she reach- ed the door, she tua^ned round and says she, " Perhaps Miss Buill would ruther work for the Old Maids' Consolation Society' that they talk o' formin'. Grood afternoon, ladies!" and off she cut afore Liddy Ann , had time to answer. The gals all titteredj and Liddy Ann lookt wonderful womblpscropt. I don't know but she 'd a cleared out if Miss Birsley hadent a smoothed it over in her cunnin' way ; -she laughed, and says She, " What, Miss Buill, you gals don't mean to help the old maids^ I hope? I say let 'em take care o' themselves." Liddy Ann. grinned and looked quite satisfied. Well, they talked and talked and talked, jest as they did at the first meetin', to no more purpose neither only to git more ryled up than they did then. It seemed as if every one had got a partickler pint to carry and was detarmined the rest should yield to 't. I tried a number o' times to make a proposition I 'd thought on, but ther was so many that talked louder and faster 'n what I could, that I couldent for the life THE SEWING SOCIETY. 2^7 o' me git nobody to listen tew me. At last I went to Miss Birsley and told hev my idee, and axed her wliat sbe thonglit on 't. She said she hked the notion. ""Well, then, you propose it," sftys I, "for I can't git 'em to listen to me if I try till Doomsday." So she spoke out, and says she, "Ladies!" but ther was such a racket nobt>dy dident hear her. So she tried agin : " Ladies, I say !" but stiU they dident' pay no attention. Then she took the tongs and knockt on the stove as loud as ever she could. " Order !" says .she. They stDppt talkin' then, and lookt roUnd to see what she wanted.' ".Ladies," says she, " Miss Magwire has pro- posed an object to -work fdr that strikes me as an ex- cellent one. She. thinks we 'd better raise enough to repairthe meetin'-house, and for my^art, I think, we couldent dew better : the meetin' -house is in a misera- ble condition; the plasterin's a comin' off in ever so many places, and the pulpit's a forlorn old thing, away up in the air ; it's enough to break, a body's neck to look at the minister, ,and shakes like an old egg- shell. Mr. Tuttle says he 'a a'most afeard to go into it. Don't you think 't would be a good plan to tear it down and build another? Now don't all speak at once. "We never shall dew nothing in creation if we don't have some sort o' order. Miss Skinner, what 's your opinion ?" Well, Miss Skinner was delighted' with the idee, and so was the Gruotieses, and the Fosters, and the 13* 298 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. Peabodys. Miss Peabody said the Baptists and the Episcopals was ajl a pintin' at us for lettia' our bouse o' -worsliip be in sucb a condition. Miss John Brevr- ster said she 'd long thought our meetin'-house was a disgrace to the village ; • she 'd no doubt but what, 't would be an advantage -to the cause o' religion to repair it, for the Widder Pettibone told her how't if we 'd had a dicent meetin'-honse she wouldent a went off and jined the Episcopals, but, she got so disgusted with the old nasty Tiouse and so tired a stretohin' her neck to see the minister, that she could- ent Stan' it no longer, " The dear me !" says Charity Grimes, " I want to know if she gives that as a reason ! , Why, every body knows she went there 'cause Curnel Dykeman's an Episcopal." "Yes," says Polly Mariar Stillman, "I guess- it's ginerally known what took her there." " She 's a wonderful oneasy critter," says Miss Pea- body 5 "she 's ben a Baptist and a Presbyterian, and now she 's an Episcopal. I wonder what she '11 be next." " Well, it 's cause she 's a widder," says G-iory Ann Billins. "I never know'd a widder yet but what was as oneasy as a fish out o' water. I raly believe it 's nat'ral tew 'em." " Jest so," says Liddy Ann Buill ; " widders wiU be widders." THE SEWINCf- SOCIETY. 299 " Not if theycan help it," says I. I was sorry as soon as I said it, Sister Bedott lookt so mad. I tell ye she gin me an awfuL ,blowin-up -when we got litim • — said every body in the room thought I meant her, and she dident mean to go to the meetin' no more. I don't know whether she will or not. "Well, they 'd got hold o' the Widder Pettihoiie, and they dident let her drop right off: if her ears dident burn that afternoon, I 'm mistaken. Some on 'em got so engaged' talkin- about her they stopt sewin' intirely. Bymeby Miss Birsley got out o' patience, and knockt on the stove. " Order !" says she. "When they got still, says she — '^"When. the ladies have got the "Wid- der Pettibone Sufficiently done -up, I 'd like- to have 'em take hold and dew up ther shirts." "Law me," says old Aunt Betsy Crocker, " they ain't a dewin' her up; they're a pickin"" on her tew pieces." Aunt Betsy ain't no great talker, but when sTie does speak she always says somethin' to the pint. She 's a real clever old soul, good to every body, dumb critter^and all. ' She was disappinted when she was youngs so she hain't never got married ; lives all alone ; nobody in the house but her and Gruff, her old dog. She thinks the world o' Grruff. I went in to see her one evenin' last winter. Gruff was asleep on a rug behind the stove, and ther was 'a great pan o' vittals setlin' by him. I thought 'twas somethin' she 'd sot there to warm, so I says, says I, " Ain't you afeared Gruff '11 300 WIDOW BEDOTT. PAPEES. be pokin' his nose into jev meat ?" " Law me," says she, " that 's there a purpose for him. I always set somethin' by him when he goes to bed,, so he '11 find it handy if he happens to wake up hungry in the night." "My sakes," says 1, "I wouldent- take' all that pains for a dog." " Law me !" says she, " Gruff don't know he 's a dbg — ^he thinks he 's/olks." " WeU, ladies," says Miss Birsley, " if it 's a possi- ble thing, I 'd hke to have it decided whether we shall' repair the meetin'-house or not. I think we 'd better put it to vote. Them that's in fevor on 't will please to signify it by holdin' up their right hand.'' Well, all o' the members held up their right hand exGeptin' Miss Ben Stillman and Polly Mariar. "Miss Still- man," says Miss Birsley, " I see that you and Polly Mariar don't hold up yer hands. Don't you approve of appropriatin' the money for that purpose?", " "WeU, I can't say as I disapprove on 't," says Miss Stillman, " but I should think we 'd better not be in a hiwry about makin' up our minds what we '11 dew with the money." " What 's ihe use o' waitin'?" says Miss Birsley. " For my part, I think we should go ahead with more sperrit if we had an object fixed on to work for." " I think so tew," says Miss Stillman; "but, you know, we 'd ought to be unanimous." " Then why don't you agree with us?" says Miss Birsley; " that 's the way to be unanimous." THE SE.WING SOCIETY. 801 "I mean," says Miss Stillman/says she, " that we 'd ought to -wait till ther's' a- full meetin' afore we vote.^' " The land alive !" says Miss BirSley, " I don't know what you call, a full meetin' if this ain't one." " The ' fact is," says Polly Mariar, stretchin' her great mouth from ear to ear and displayin' all her big teeth— (Jeff says her mouth looks like an open sepul- cher filU o' dead men's bone) — " the faot is," says she, " mar and me 's of opinion that we had-ent ought to vote till Miss SamSon Savage is consulted." "Miss Samson Savage ain't a member o' the Society," says Miss Birsley, " and she don't go to meetin' once in six months. I don't know what we should want to consult her for, I 'm sure." " But you know," says Miss StHlman, " her means is ^uch that she 's^ able to contribbit a great deal to any object she approves of." "And we'd ought to be careful about off^din' her," says PoUy Mariar, " for, you know, she with- draw'd herself from the Baptists because their Sewin' Society dident dew as she wanted to have 'em" - " Did the Baptists break down after it?" says Miss Birsley. Jest then the door opened, and in marched Miss Samson Savage. But afore I go on, I 'd ought to teU you something about her. She's one o'the hig hugs herer— that is, she 's got more money than S02 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. a' most any body else in • town. She was a tailoresa ■when she was a gal, and they say she used to make a dretful sight o' mischief among the folks where she sewed. But that was when she lived in Varmount. When Mr. Savage married her, he was one o' these ere specilators. Wonderful fellers to make money, them Varmounters. Husband says they come over the Green Mountains with a spellin'-book in one hand and a halter in t' other, and if they can't git a school to teach, they can steal a hoss. When they first come to ojir place, he was a follerin' the tin-peddlin' bisness ; he used to go rumblin' round in his cart from house to house, and the rich folks ruther turned up their noses at him, or he oonsated they did, and it made him awful wrathy ; so he detarmjned he 'd be richer 'n any on 'em, and pay 'em off in their own coin. Old Smith says he 's heerd him time and agin make his boast that he 'd ride over all their heads some day-^ dident seem to have no higher eend in view than to be the richest man in Scrabble Hill. He sot his heart and soul and body on 't, and knowin' how to turn every cent to the best advantage, and bein' wonderful sharp at a bargain, he succeeded ; every thing he took hold of prospered, and without actilly bein' what you could call dishonest, afore many years every body allowed he was the richest man in the place. So he built a great big stun house and furnished it wonder- ful grand ; his wife wouldent have a bit o' fumitewer THE SEWING SOCIETY, 303 made here^notMn' would dew tut she imist send away to Fhiladelphy for !t. , Andsuch fOrnitewer was never seen in-tBe town afore ! , Sucli elegant sofys and chedrsand curtins, and ever so, many curus consarns that I don't know the name of, and I guess she don't neither. So she sot up for a lady, She was always a coarse, boiaterousj high-tempered critter, and when her husband grow'd rich, she grow'd pompous and overbearin'. She made up her mind she 'd rule the roast, no matter what it cost — she 'd be the first in Scrabble Hill. * She know'd she wa'n't a lady by natur nor by eddication,'but she thought mabby other folks would be fools enough to think she was if she made a great parade. So she begun by dressin' more,.and givih' bigger parties than any body else. Of course, them that thinks money 's the main thing (and ther 's. plenty such here and every where), is ready to flatter her and make a fuss over her, and approve of all her dewin's. If ther 's any body thfit vlonH knuckle tew her, I tell ye they have, to take it about eaht. She abuses 'em to their faces and slanders 'em to their backs. Such conduct wouldent be put up with in a poor woman ; but them that would be'for drummin' me out o' town if I should act so, is ready to i:^hold Miss Samson Savage, and caU it independence and frankness in her. She 's got so she prides herself on it. She says sJie ain't afeard to tell folks what she thiiik of 'em — ^if she don't like any body, they know 304 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPEES. it purty soon. Husband says sTie wouldent, think it no harm to set her neighbor's house a fire if she done it ia the day-time. She shows her independence in another way sometimes, by riggin' out in old duds that -would disgrace a washerwoman, and trainin' round town, maldn' calls and so forth, scJmetimes in an old wagin and sometimes afoot. It tickles her wondet;- fully to hear folks whisper as she goes along — '"Jest see Miss Savage ! that 'U dew for Aer, but 't wouldent do for every body." W-hen she goes out in company, she 'nopolizes the hull o' the conversation. She 's detarmihed that every body in the room shall have the benefit of all she has to say. So she -talks up so awful loud that she drownds every body else's voice, and they have to ■listen tew her whether or no. I was to a party a spell ago where she was, and from the minnit she come in — (thank fortin' she never comes arly — always keeps the tea a waitin' for her) — I say, from the minnit she come till it broke up, she talked without ceesation. It did seem to me as if I should go distracted. In the course o' the evenin', somebody axed Pardon Petti- bone's wife (she 't was Katy Carey) to play on the planner and sing : she 's a beautiful player, and I 'm very fond o' hearin' her. "When she sot down to the music, thinks me, Miss Savage will hold her tongue now, I 'm sure. • But I was mistaken. She wa'n't a gwine to be put down by a planner, not she, so she THE SEWING SOCIETY. 305 jest pitched her voice a-peg higher and went on with her stuff — all about her hired help — ^what Bets, the cook, done ; how Suke, the chambermaid, managed, and how Nab, the washerwoman, carried sail. I couldent take no sense o' the music at all. Miss Still- man and Polly Mariar, and a few more, draw'd up round her and swallered all she said, but some 6' the young folks that wanted to hear the music, lookfas if they wished Miss Samson Savage was furder. But it 's plain to be seen with all her pretensions she feels oneasy and" oncomfortable the hull time. I Ve noticed that yer codfish gentility always dew. She knows she ain't the ginniwine article, and so sh© tries to make up for 't in brass and bluster. If any thing goes on without her bein' head man, she always tries to put it down. She was gone a journey when the Sewin' Society was started, and I s'pose she was awftd mad to think we darst to git up such a thing* without consultin' her. Miss Birsley called on her when, she got hum, and axed her to jine. But she said she wouldent— she despised Sewin' Societies, dident want nothin' to dew with 'em., Miss Birsley dident tell no- body what she said but me ; she know'd 't would make some o' the wimmin mad and scare the rest — but we both know'd 't wouldent be long afore she 'd be poMn' her nose in among us. Well, as I said afore, she came a marchin' into the room where we all sot. She 's a great, tall, raw-boned 306 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. woman, and she steps off like a trainer; Slie Had on a dirty pink sun-bunnit, and an old ragged Idue calicer open-gownd (wliat Jeff calls a shelaly) over her dress. She didenfr so much as say " How^de-dew" to nobody, but strammed right across the room and sot down ; then she huvher old sun-bunnit onto the floor, and draw'd a long breath, and says she — " Well,.! tow I 'm tired — ben round a shoppin', and shoppin' 's no small bisness with me. I don't go into a shop and stan' an hour, and make the clerks haul down all ther goods, and then hvLj.tew-cenis' worth, as some folks •dew" — ^here she lookt round at Miss Grimes and Charity — "when / trade, I trade to some amount, and no mistake. I was ruther tired afore I left hum — ^had company to dinner — dident think o' comin' here when I come out — " Caroline Gipson thought she was a gwine to apologize for her dress, so she says says she, "Oh, no apologies necessary— ''twas jest as well to come in as you was." " What 1" Says she, "I hope ye don't think I'd a dressed up if I had a know'd I was a comin' here ? — not I. I don't believe in rig- gin' up to come to a sewin' meetin','as some folks dew" — (here she squinted at the Skinners — ^they had on new plaid dresses) — " but 't ain't every body that can afford to wear an old double gownd. I says to Poll, my waitin'-maid, ' Poll,' says I, ' go .to the lumber- room and git my sim-bunnit and my blue calicer double gownd; I'm a gwine out.' 'Massy sakesl' 'THE SEWING SOCIETY. 807 says Poll says she, ' does Miss Satage know 't the blue double gownd has got. one sleeye a' most ripped out, and the linnin 's ,aU tore so 't it hangs down below the outside ronnd the bottom?' 'Poll,' says I, 'if 'twa'n't that you've jest come out o' Pennsylvany woods, and don't know nothin' about manners yet, I 'd discharge ye on the spot for darin' to question me, or make any remarks about what I order.- I 'U for- give ye this time on account o' yer ignorance, but if ever you dew it agin yoa'll git your walkin'-ticket on short order, as sure as my name 's Miss Samson Savage. ICow start yer stumps, and fetch them things qtiick m^eter.' So she fetcht 'em, and I went and done my shoppin'. On my way' hum, it struck me that you was to meet here to-day, so thinks me, I'll jest step in- and see what they 're up tew." " Will you take some sewin'?" sayS Miss Birsley. " Not I," says she, " till I know what I 'm a sewin' for. What do ye calculate to dew with the money ye raise?" " We thought," says Miss Birsley, " that is, the majority of us thought 't would be a good idee to am enough to repair the meetin'-house and build a new pulpit." "Murder!" says Miss, Savage;' "well, I vow if that wouldent be a worthy object." " So you don't approve on 't, hey ?" says Miss Birsley. " Approve on 't ?" says she ; " not I." " Fo more don't me and Polly Mariar," says Miss Stillman. Miss Savage went on: "I'd look purty, 308 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. wouldent I, a workm' to fix up that meetin'-lidiise far Tuttle to preach in !" " So you don't like Mr. Tuttle, hey?" says Miss Birsley. "Like him?" says she; "not L He don't know nothin" — can't preach no more 'n that stove-pipe" — (she hates Parson Tuttle 'cause he hain't- never paid no more attention to her than he has to the rest o' the congregation)^-" he 's as green as grass and as flat as a pancake." " That's jest what mar and me thinks," says PoUy Mariar StUlman. Miss Savage went on : " He don't know B from a broomstick, nor bran when the bag 's open." " That 's jest what I think," says Miss StOlman. " I gays to Mr. StUlman last Sabbath, as we was a comin' &om meetin', ' Mr. Stillman' says I" — But what 't was she said to Mr. Stillman, dear knows, for Miss Savage dident let her go on. "I say," says she, "I'd look beautiful a comin' to Sewin' Society and workin' the eends o' my fingers off to build a pulpit for Tuttle to be poked up in Sabbath after Sabbath, and preach off jest what he 's a mind tew. No — ye don't ketch me a takin' a stich for such an object. I despise Tuttle, and I '11 tell him so tew his face when I git a chance. Ye don't ketch me a slanderin' folks behind ther backg and then soft-soapin' 'em to their faces, as some folks dew" — (here she lookt at Miss Stillman and Polly Mariar.) "And where 's his wife, I'd like to know? Why ain't she here to work to-day? A purty piece o' bisness, I must say, for you all to be THE SEWING SOCIETT. 309 here a diggin*- away to fix Tip Tuttle's meetin'-house, ■when, ■ she ^s to imm a playin' ladi/." "Miss Tkttle ain't very well," gays I. "That's a likely story/' says l^iss Savage, ; and from that she went on and ■ blazed away about Miss "Tuttle at a terrible rate. Miss Stillman and Polly Mafiar, and a number more o' the wimmin", sot tew and helped her whenever they coiild git a word in edgeways ; and such a haulin' over as Miss Tuttle and the parson got, I never heerd afore in all the days o' my life. While they was in the midst on 't, Miss Gipson- ,come to the. door and axed us to walh out to tea — she'd ben out all the- affernoon. a gittin' it reddy — so^ we put up our work and went out We don't have the tea- handed round at our meetin'sas a gineral thing; we have the things sot on a long table; the woman o' the house poUrs tea at one eend, and we all Stan' round and help- ourselves. It 's very convenient, especially where they don't keep no help, Well, we all took hold,, and for a while Parson Tuttle and his wife and every body else had a restin' gpell, for even Miss Samson Savage had other use for her tongue. She believes in dewin' one thing to once. When she eats she eats — and when she talks she talks. And we had a real nice tea, I tell ye— biscuit and butter, and crackers and cheese, and cold meat and pickles, and'custard and whipt cream, and three kinds o' presarveSj and four kinds o' cake, and what not 1 810 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. I couldent help o' tMnkin' that the money laid out on that tea ■would a went a good way toward the new pulpit. "What delightful biscuit," says Miss Grimes. ^' They are -so" says Miss Skinner ; " but Miss Gip- son never" has poor biscuit." "0 fehaw!" says Miss Gipson, "you ain't in amest: my biscnits is miserable — not nigh so good as common. I don't think the flour 's first rate." " Miss Gipson, how dew you make crackers ?" says Miss Stillman ; " I never tasted none so good." " Now you don't mean so," says MisS- Gipson. " I can make good crackers, but them 's very- poor; the oven wa'n't jest right when I put 'em in." " IwiMsihave another piece o' this cheese, it 's so good," says Miss Lippincott. "Where did you git it?' " Well, I got it of old Daddy Sharp : he ginerally makes expellent cheese; but I tell Mr. Gipson old Sharp's failed-for once — ^that 's what I call poor cheese." " Dew taste o' this plum sass. Miss Peabody," says Miss Brewster ; " I never see the beat on 't." " I 'd ruther have these peaches," says Miss ' Peabody ; "they 're derlicious. It is a mystery to me how Miss Gipson always has such luck with her presarves. I never dew, and I always take pound for pound' tew." " This apple-jel 's the clearest I ever see," says old Miss Parker. " How did you make it, Miss Gipson ? Did- ent you dew it in the sun ? I 'm sure it don't look as if it ever was nigh the fire." " Now don't speak o- THE SEWING SOCIETY. 311 that jel," says Miss Gipson. '^I told Carline I was astamed o' my jel after seein' Miss Parker's, and I was a'most sorry I 'd made any presarves since I 'd eat some o' Miss Peatody's and Miss Skinner's, theirn was so mucli nicer." So they went on. The whipt cream and eustard-had to be gone over : Miss Gipeon had to tell jest how 't was made— what flavorin' she used, and all that— though she declared she was ashamed on't. The Cafe was praised up: they must know how much butter ther was in this] how many eggs it took for that and so forth; Miss Gipson, of course, run it down — she could make good cake, but somehoTsr she failed that time. A person that dideut know how wimmin always go on at such a place, would a thought that Miss Gipson had tried to have every thing the miserablest she possibly could, and that the rest on 'em had never had anything to hum but what was miseraWer yet. Well, every thing arthly comes to an eend, and so did that tea after a spell, and purty' soon after we went huta.- Miss Stillman invited us to meet -to their house next time. She urged Miss Sampson Savage to come, and I don't doubt but what she will -if she thinks ther 's any chance for kickin' up a muss. I was in to Miss Birsley's the next day, and she and I talked it over. She says we hain't accomplished much yit, for some o' the work's done so miserable 't won't never sell in creation without it 's picked out- and 312 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEBS. done over better. The rest is put togetlier -wrong, and has got to be took to pieces whether or no. For- my part, I feel eny most discouraged about the Sewin' XXVI. ^ttnt Papist's f isit t0 SIsHatoK. T 'YE ben a journey sence I saw you, Nancy, away down to Slabtown, to see a cousin o' husband's tbat lives there. She 't was Eunice Ludlow, she mar- ried a Bentley, carpenter and jiaer by trade. They moved from Coon's HoUer to Slabtown about five year ago, and there he foUered the lumberin' business, and done very well at it. I hadent seen 'em since, they went away, and bein' as she urged me very hard, and made me promise I 'd come out there the last time she was to our house, I thought I 'd ought to go. I used to set a great deal by Eunice when she was a gal. I thought there never was a happier, couple than she and Bentley was when they lived at the Holler. He had a good trade and was industrious, and so was she, and they got along first rate. And then they had a couple o' the nicest behaved children that I ever see. Lucy, the eldest, was about eight year old when they moved away, and Henry was five or six. But I found things, considerably altered since they come to Slabtown. It 's quite a big place, as big agin 14 314 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. as Scrabble Hill, and growin' bigger all the time, Eunice bad got bar idees raised a good deal, and bad some wonderful curus notions about gintility. The bouse was fumisbed migbty grand, and sbe dident dew ber own work as sbe used to at tbe Holler, but kept a great slatterin', imperdent bired gal, tbat done jest as sbe was a mind tew about every tbing. Lucy, tew, sbe was a growin' up ginteel. Sbe 's got to be tbe proudest little tbing tbat ever I see, peart and bold, and rigbt up in every body's fece and eyes, stickin' in ber gab all tbe time, and nippin' round witb a couplp of awful long pigtails witb bows on tbe eends, a dangHn' down ber back. Henry, be 's about as batefiil a young one as ever went unflogged. I used to dread bis comin' bum from scbool; for be went yellin' and bollerin' round tbe bouse, kickin' and spittin', and sassin' every body tbat spoke to Mm. I actilly beerd bim swear a number o' times. And be 's out in tbe streets late o' nigbts, playin' and figbtin' witb all sorts o' boys. I talked to bis fatber about it, t6ld bim I tbougbt be 'd ougbt to keep Henry in o' nigbts, and be more particklar about bis 'sociates. But be baw-baw'd rigbt out in my face ; " Sbaw, Aunt Magwire," says be, " tbat 's all cant. I believe in lettin' boys run ; it 's tbe only way to make 'em independent."" "Sam Bentley," says I, "you ain't tbe man you used to be. Wben you lived to tbe HoUer, you was quite partic'lar about yer cbil- VISIT TO S'LABTOWN. 315 dren, and atout yerself tew ; for I remember you used to go to meetin' quite stiddy witli Eunice, and always had prayers in yer family night and mornin'." Don't never mention that agin," says he ; "I 'm ashamed on 't. I Was green in them days ; now I 've got more inlarged views. The fact i&, Aunt Magwire, Slabtown 's a g'reai place. Jf I'd a stayed at Coon's Holler, ten to one, I 'd a went on in that snivellin', cantin', go-to-meetin' way all my life." "Like enough," says I ; " and mabby got to heaven in it last. Slabtown is a great place, and no mistake." Sam did- ent say no more. Eunice dident seem to be very proud o' me, I 'm such a plain, homemade body.- She never introduced me to none of her ginteel acquaintances when they called ; so, as I dident have nothing to- sSy, I used to have, the benefit of all the conversation, and sartinly 'twas quite entertain'. They ginerally begun with the fashions. Next, they took up the subject o' hired gals, and when they 'd wore that out, the neighbor- hood in gineral had to undergo a hanlin' over. 'T was pretty much the same as it is in Scrabble Hill, only I think the Slabtown folks make ruther more fuss over each other to their faces, than what they dew in our place. One afternoon, there was a youngish married wo- man by the name o' Miss' Teeters called. She and Eunice are quite intimit; though, after all, Eunice 316 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPJIES. don't seem to think much of her, but she considers her wonderful ginteel. Her futility, seemed to con- sist in her wearin' more colors than I ever see on to once afore in all my born days. She had on a yaller bunnit, with a great pink -artificial on it ; a red shawl, and a gi-een silk frock, and blue ribbin round her neck, and I forget what all ; but t' was enough' to -make a body's eyes ache to look at her. After they 'd gone over with the fa,shions, says Miss Teeters, says she': "I see you keep Marthyyet; iow do you git along with her ?" But afore Eunice had time to answer her, the door was banged open, and the very Miss Hawkins they 'd ben talkin' about come bowsin into the the room with- out ever ringin' the bell. She was clear out o' breath; for she 's quite a fleshy woman. Her face was as red as a blaze, and her green satin sack was all one-sided'. She looked as if she 'd fixed in a wonderful hurry and run all theiway., "What's to pay?" says Miss Tee- ters and Eunice in a breath. She couldent speak for a miunit or so, she was so exhausted. I got up and giv her the rockin'-cheer I was a sittin' in, and she squoze herself into it, and says she — " Have you heerd the-news ?" " What news?" says Miss Teeters and Miss Bentley, openin' their mouths and eyes and stretchin' their necks. " What news ? — dew tell, for pity's sake !" " dear me, suz," says she, "I never was so dum- VISIT TO SLABTOWK. 317 folmdered in all my life. Cousin Jeemes -was in to our house not lialf an hour ago, and read it to Sary Ann and me. I thought I 'd run in and see if Miss Teeters had heerd on't. They said she was over to Mr. Bentley's, so I, come right on here." "Well, what is it, in the name o' wonder?" says Miss TeeterSj says she.. " dear me," says Miss Hawkins, a blowin' herself with her handkeroher as hard as ever she could. " O dear me, ther 's the awfulest piece that you ever see, come out in the ' Ladies Book,' and it 's all about our Sewin' Society, takin' us off to an ioty, and tellin' all how we go on; and, of course, 'twas writ in this vil- lage." ' . ,• "You don't?" says Miss Teeters, says she. "It's a fact," says Miss Hawkins. "And what's worse yet, our minister's wife writ it." "How you talk !" says Miss Teeters. " "Well, I shouldent wonder," says Eunice, says she, "for I 've heerd that your minister's wife writesfor the papers. But, pray, what does it say?" " Oh," says Miss Hawkins, " as true as I 'm, a live woman, it 's got every one of our members in, and shows us all up shamefully, only jest me and Sary Ann. I can't see as ther 's any body in it that re- sembles us a mite. But -you 're drawed out, Miss Teeters ; and Cappen Sapley, he 's down large as life ; and the Bomans are in for 't r and so 's Bill Sweezer's 318 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEKS. wife, and Samanthy Cooper, and Tom Baily's wife, and Miss Ben Curtis ; and there 's a Miss Stillman and ■her daughter, that 's meant for the Longs* They 're all fictitious names, to be sure, but it's easy enough to tell who 's who. But the squire's wife ketches it the worst of all. I teU ye, it takes her off to fits. Nobody can mistake it. Jeemes wouldent let us keep it, or I 'd a fetcht it over.- He war gwine to take it in to the Bomanses. I hope you '11 get hold on 't ; for of all the abominable messes that ever I see, it 's the crownin' pint." " Well, I never heerd'the beat on 't,"'says Miss Tee- ters. " Nor I neither," says Eunice. " I should think a minister's wife might be in better business. Well, I 'm glad I don't belong to your Society. I ain't took off, that 's sartin. But how do you know it actilly means your Society ?" " Oh, that 's plain enough," says Miss Hawkins, "for it tells things that was positively said and done at some o' the meetin's. Jest how the squire's wife went on ; calls her 'Miss Samson Savage.' " (I begun to prick up my ears. Thinksme, what on airth does all this mean ?) — " But the mystery to me is, how the minister's wife got hold on't. She wa'n't there. Somebody that was there must a told her. I wonder who 't was ?" Miss Teetera turned ruther red. I thotight she VISIT TO SLABTOWBT. 319 looked kind o guilty; and says she : "It 's abominable —it 'b ridicilous ! I '11 go right home and tell my hus- band how the minister's wue *s ben -writin' about me ; and I shouldent wonder if he should take the matter up — he 's cowhided a number of iadividdiwals for speakin' disparagin' o' me. But has the squire's wife, heerd on 't ?" "'So," says Miss Hawkins. "I stopt there as I come along, but she 'd gone out o' town. "Won't she be mad, though ; she 's such a fiery critter !" " I say," says Miss Teeters, says she, " it 's high time we got rid o' the minister ; he ain't the man for lis. A ginteel and intellectible congregation like our'n had ought to have a man o' great eloquential powers. And as for his wife, I never coidd bear her, with her old stripid dress that she wears eiyery Sunday, rain or shine. I don't believe she was ever accustomed to ginteel society." "Nor I neither," says Miss Hawkins. "I took a dislike tew her when they first come here. I don't like yer mum charalcters that never say nothin' about nobody. It seems she 's ben savia' on 't up to let off in the newspapers. Bethiar Nobles says she told her she thought our congregation drest tew much ; and I shouldent wonder if she did, for she ' stuck to that old straw bunnit an'd everlastin' stripid dress all winter, and I s'pose it 's to set an example o' plainness afore us, jest as if we 'd foUer her lead. For my part, I think 320 WinOW BEDOTT PAPERS. slie migltt better spend- more time a dressin',' and less a writin' for the newspapers. And they say he in- cotirages her in it, and likes to have her write. I wish they was both furder off." " I wish so tew," says Miss Seeters ; " and I guess ther 's a good many that wish so. She ain't popilar at all in our set. She never runs in sociably, as Miss Van Duzen used to. They say she goes a great deal more among the poor folks, than she does among the ginteel part o' the congregation. And that 's a sure sign, Ithinh, that she 's ben more accustomed to ming- lin' with them sort o' folks, than with such as we be." Well, they blazed away in that style for as much as an hour. I can't remember half they said ; and Eunice she told 'em that if she was they, she wouldent put up with it; she'd make a fuss about it, and have the minister sent off. As soon as they 'd gone, Eunice burst out a laughin', and says she: "Well, if that ain't the best piece o' news I 've heerd this many a day. I 've always heerd that that Sewin' Society was a reg'lar slander-mOl, where the principal busines is to brew mischief against the minister ; and I 'm glad they 've got showed up at last. The minister 's a good man, and a smart man tew ; but the biggest part o' the congregation is such a set of ignoramuses, that they don't know a smart man from a fool! They always make a great fuss over their minister when he first comes ; but if he don't VISIT TO SLABTOWW. S21 preacli smootli tMngs tew 'em all tlie time, they soon contrive to starve Him out of quarrel him off. When they gin this one a call,- they agreed to give him five hundred dollars a year, and pay it quarterly. And it is a solemn fact, that half on 't hain't ben paid yet. Betsey Hall, a girl that used to wash for 'em some- times, told me so,. She said she 'd .often listened to the door, and heerd the minister and his wife a talkin' over their troubles ; and she says that ther ain't more 'n half a dozen in the congregation that pay their dues reglariy ; and if 't wa'n't for what the minister's wife gits for writin' for the newspapers, they wouldent be able to pay their house-rent and keep out o' debt, no way. She said she- overheerd him say to his wife one day : ' The quarter's rent '11 be due next Saturday, and I hain't a cent to pay it.' "-Keep up your courage my dear,' says she, ' perhaps I. shall have somethin' from Philadelphy before then.' And Betsey said she guess- ed it come, for she was knowin' to' the rent bein' paid the next Saturday. I couldent help laughin' in my sleeve when Miss Teeters was a tellin' how much bet- ter Parson Van Duzen's wife was Hked than this one. They abused hejr like a pickpocket when she was here and was always a runnin' her down. She couldent dew nothin' to please 'em." " Eunice," said I, why dident you talk so when they was in, and tell 'em plainly to their faces what you thought." 14* 322 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPEES. " law," says she, " I di3ent -want to get mixed up in -their quarrels." And then she throw'd on her things and run off to some o' the neighbors to tell the news and talk over it She was gone till tea time. • But she dident have the satisfaction o' tellin' the story- first, for every body where she went had heerd it al- ready. News flies like wildfire in Slabtown. She dident git hold o' the piece . though ; nobody hadent seen it, but they 'd all heerd about it. It 's wo'ndeirful how soon 't was in every body's mouth. When Sam comes huni he was full on 't — said 't was all over town — nothin' else wag talked about from one eend o' the village' to t'other. Eunice was very anxious to read it ; and Sam went to the bookstore to git it, but they'd sold every copy they had, and ther was a great call for more. Ther was a wonderful excitement about it. Sam said the Californy fe-ver' was nothing tew it. Oaliforny and every thing else seemed to be entirely forgot for a spell. The wimmin laid aside all other business, and gadded round from house to house talk- in about the Sewin' Society. And the men, tew, they 're as fond o' tatlin' and gossipin' in Slabtb-wn as the -wimmin. They met together in shops and stores, and bar-rooms and oyster-cellars, and talked it over. Wherever you 'd see a mess o' men standin' you might know they was discussin' the Sewin' Society. In Slabtown, every body knows jest what every body else says and does. It seemed raly wondeirftil to VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 323 me kow all that was said was trumpeted roimd. ' Pri- vate conversations was blazed all over town, that mnst a ben carried iby tHe birds o' tbe air, or else tlier must a ben a good many ears occurpied at "a good ,many key-holes. ' I was wonderfully struck with this feculty in the Slabto'wn folks. They 're a coramunity remar- kable for their inguirin! minds. If 't was applied to any useful purpose, ther 's no calculatin' h'ow much they might accompUsh. If the government should ever conclude to make researches into the manners and customs o' the antipodes under ground, I should advise 'em to send to. Slabtown for an explorin' com- pany. I 'n warrant they 'd find out all how and about %it for 'em. They 'd report all that 's a dewin' there, and a good deal more. So 't was about that article that was laid to the ministers wife's door. Every body know'd what every body else said and thought about it. The inquirin' minds was all, at work. Every hour in the day ther was somebody a runnin' into Bentley's with some new story^— something the Haw- kinses or the Longs, or the Teeeters, or the squire's folks had said or done. " And ' Miss Samson Savage,' " says Miss Teeters — " did you ever see such a perfect picter as that is o' the squire's wife ? — ^how exactly it goes on like her, don't it ? Any body that ever see her would know it in a minute.*' " But," says Teeters, " I don't see how the minister's 324 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. wife found out howslie talked. Some o' your mem- bers must a peached." Miss Teeters blushed, and says she : "Oh, dear me, I 'm dreadfully afeard she '11 think 't was me. If she should, she 'd hate me like pisen, and never invite me to any more o' her parties. I wouldent git her ill-will for all the world. What sliall I dew ? I must run right over there 'fore any body else see her, and maOie it all straight:" " That 's right," said Teeters. " I wouldent be struck out o' her good books for no money. We '11 show her that we don't uphold the minister's wife in such conduct. But I must dew something tew. If she was only a man I could give her a cowhidin' or at# least threaten to ; but bein' she 's a woman I don't know what to dew." " I 'U tell ye. Teeters, what ye can dew," said his wife. " You can circulate a petition to get the minis- ter dismissed." " That 's the checker," said Teeters, with a terrible oath. So Miss Teeters flung on her things and started off for the squire's. And Teeters sot down to draw up his petition. When she got to the squire's, Miss Tee- ters huv herself down on the sofy and fainted away; and the squire's wife run for the cologne bottle. When she began to come tew, says the squire's wife, I she— VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 325 " For tHe land's sake, child, what 's the matter with ye?" Miss Teeters ■ groaned, and says she :' " Have you seen the Lady's Book ?" " "What lady's book?" says the squire's wife, says she. " Why the Lady's Book that 's printed in Philade^ phy once a month." " No, I hain't seen it," says shes. " What on 't ?" " Well, I 'm so glad you hain't," says Miss Teeters ; ' ' and I do hope you won't. Dont you look at it if you do see it.- I beg of you not to look at it for all the world. Promise me you won't open it if you do see \t." "Well, I should like to know," says the squire's wife, " what 's the reason I must n't lookat that par- tic'lar book. For gracious saike, out. with it 1" " Oh," says Miss Teeters, " ther 's the awfullest piece in it that ever you sot eyes on ; and every body says the minister's wife writ it. It 's all about our Sewin- Society — ^takes us off most shamefully — ^but you es- pecially — shows you up abominably — calls you ' Miss Samson Savage.' It ain't a bit like you, to be sure ; but it 's perfectly horrid. Do promise me not to read it ; for it '11 hurt your feelins dreadfully. It did mine. To think that a person I set so much by as I do by you, should be so abused ! Mr. Teeters is perfect" ly outrageous about it ; he says it is n't to be borne. S26 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. He 's intendin' to start a petition to have the minister sent off. You know we 've long Ben tryin' to git rid of Mm, and this '11 be a good opportunity" — (Miss Teeters had always pretended. to the minister that she was one of his bes|; friends, and was always a runnin' tew him with every thing the squire's wife and Miss Hawkins said against him. Of course, he nor his wife hadent no confidence in her. They understood human nater well enough to know she 'd talk against them behiad their backs.) 'T was nat'ral enough, after all this parade, that the squire's wife should be in a terrible pucker to see the Lady^s Book. So, after makin' a wonderftd to do about it, and pretendin' she was awful unwillin', Mis/ Teeters fetcht her the book. At first, the squire's wife declared that Miss Savage wa'n't meant for herj but ixllheT particular friends insisted upon it that 'twas. So at last she had to give up, and, of course, she was awful mad about it, and stormed away at a terrible rate. Miss Hawkins,, she kept the ball a rollin' ; devoted her hull time to runnin' round the neighborhood and blazin' away about it. She was what folks call " toady" - to the squire's wife, and every body said that the " Miss Stillman in the piece, that was makin' suck a muss, meant her, and she tho't so tew. But she tho't that if she could make folks believe 't was intended for Miss Long, she could accomplish tew ends : she 'd VISIT -TO SLABTOWN. 327 git rid o' bavin' tlie names o' Miss Stillman and Polly Mariar' tucked onto her and Her daughter, and, what was pnrty important, turn the Longs against the minister and Tiis wife. Now the Longs was very stiddy, go-to- meetin' sort o' folks, and had always been very friend- ly to the minister's family. So Miss Hawkins went puffin' and Mowin, round town, makin' a terrible fuss about the " piece," and dwellin' partic'larly on the awful shame it was to take off the Longs so. One^day she went into the squire's, and the squire's wife says to her, says she : "Well, how do you feel about beiu' hit off by Aunt Magwire ? You ketch it about as bad as I dew." ■ "0. shaw," says Miss Hawkjns, " I ain't hit off at all. What makes you think I be ?" " Now, Hawky,"sa.ys the squire's wife, " it 's all non- " sense for you to try to make me think that ain't meant for you and Sary Ann." " I hnow 't is." " Well," says Miss Hawkins, says she, " between, you and me, the fact is, whether 't was meant for me or not, one thing 's clear, if we could make the Longs believe 't was intended for them, we shotild be pretty sure o' gittin' rid o' the minister. For, of course, Miss Long and Helen would feel dretfully hurt about bein' took off so by the minister's wife, and Mr. Long he 'd think jest as they did. And if we can once git the Longs set against the minister's folks, they '11 have tp quit in short order." 328 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. , "Well, that is an idee," says tlie sqiiire's wife. " Hawky, you 's more cunnin' than I be. If 'Daddy- long-legs' " — (that 's what she calls Mr". Long behind his back) — " once gits his dander up it '11 be all day with the parson ; for some how or other, he 's contriv- ed to git considerable influence in the parish. It must be because he 's such a stiddy old poke, for he hain't no more mind of his own than that pair o' tohgs.^ I can turn him round with my little finger. I guess I '11 go down 'and give 'em astirrin' up." So up she start- ed and off she traipsed to Mr. Long's. She marched into the parlor, where Miss Long and Helen was a sit- tin', and makin' a low curchy, she says, says she : " Miss Samson Savage, at your sarvice ; and how does Miss Stillman and Polly Mariar dew to day ?" Well, to make a long story short, the Longs was made to believe that the minister's wife had actilly ben showin' 'em np. Of course they was outrageous about it ; and Miss Long- talked harder aginst the'min- ister's wife than she 'd ever talked aginst any body afore. She dident go tew her, like a Christian ought to, and ax an explanation, but she contented herself with callin' her an ahominahle woman and a shameful critter, and said she wa'n't fit to be a minister's wife, and so forth. And Mr. Long he jihed in with the op- position, and wanted the minister to quit. And Teeters, he got up his petition, and went blus- terin' round with it, threatenin' to cowhide everybody VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 329 that dident sign it. He hadent got but a feW names to it, -when he went into Sharp's store and axed Sharp to sign it. Sharp's a straight-forrard feller, that minds his own business. He took the petition and lookt at it, and then deliberately opened the stove door and throw'd it in ; and turnin' to Teeters, says he : " Tee- ters, yoTi 're a fool ; go hum and take care o' yer wife, and let alone meddlin' with what 's none o' yer busi- ness." ^ I s!pose you think Teeters cowhided him on the spot ; but you 're mistaken.^ He went hum and took it out in rippin' and swearin', and threatenin' to take the law o' Sharjh. xxyii. T AW me, Nancy, -whj 't -would take a -vfeek to tell ' all tlie sayin's and dewin's that took place in Slabtown in consequence o' that article ia the Lady's Book. I never see nor heerd o' nothin' equal to 't. Such a tempest in a tea-pot! such an awful uproar about nothin' ! 'T was wonderful — 't was amusin' tew. And what was the poor minister's wife about aU this time? Why she was to hum, a mindin' her own business as usual. Miss Teeters was heerd to say to several individdiwals, that she guessed that old stripid dress and straw bunnijt woiildent darst to show them- selves in church no more, when there was such an excitement. But Sunday came and there was the minister's wife in her seat, lookin' jest as if nothin' had happened more 'n or'nary. The members o' the Sewin' Society thought 't was very audacious in, her. 'T was cur'us to see how all the persons that was the' most active in makin' a noise and keepin up thg excitement, had every one on 'em some eend o' tkeir VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 831 own that they hoped to forrard by makin' a hue and cry. There was the Slaters, they were dretful mad at the squire's wife, because she hadent invited 'em to her last party. Aud Mr. Sweezer had told 'em that the squire's wife remarked at her party, that she dident invite the Slaters because she meant to be more select in her parties in futur'. Sweezer's very intimit with the squire's folks— a kind o' boot-licker tew 'em ■ — ^though he 's always slanderin' 'em to their backs. He 's a reg'lar man-gossip. "Well, the Slaters was wonderful, tickled to see the squire's wife git such a dressirH out, as they called it; so they went round ex- ultin' over it. Then thef was a number that #as wonderful anxious to git themselves into notice, no matter how. And they blazed away about the impropriety o\ writing such articles. • They disproved on 'em entirely. But them that was tryin' to git into the squire's wife's good graces, was the most obstropelous about it. They cabled it abominable — awful ! they hoped tie squire would take the law o' the minister's wife, and so forth. And some that was rejoiced to git hold o' any thiiig that could be turned agaifist the jminister, went sneak- in' round taMn' it up in a sly way ; they was very sorry it had happened, very ; but it was all up with the minister now ; he noiight as well pack up his traps g^d budge at once ; for he couldent be supported in Slabtownno longer, 'public sentiment was so against 332 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPEBS. Him. -Then, tew, ther was a careful set, sucTi as there is every where, that wanted to be " right side jip ;" and iiot bein' able to detei'mine for sartia which -would turn out to be the popilar party, all they done, when the " Sewin' Society" was mentioned, was to shake their heads and look knowin'. But the tew-sided party was the most numerous. They circtilated round from the minister's friends to his enemies, and pretend- ed to belong to jest jihe side they happened to be with. To the minister's friends they said, " that was a first- rate articl? in the Lady's Book ; 't was capital — 't was true to nater — it took off them that deserved it richly ; and they hoped that the author 'd write more, and give 'em another dig." When they got among the op- posite party, they said " 't was a slanderous, thing — 'twas shameful — 'twa'n't to be put up with;" and then 'they carried back and forth all they heerd on both sides, and made a sight o' mischief. Mr. Sweezer was one o' this kind. He had about as much as he coul-d attend to for a spell, runnin' from one side t' other carryin' the news. But the most active o' the two-siders was Bethiar Nobles, an old gal that gits her livin' principally by visitin'. She 's acquainted with every thing that goes on, in the village ; knows every body's business, jest what young folks are ingaged, and who 's broke off their ingagements ; who 's ben disappointed, and who 's distracted after who. She knows jest what VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 333 couples liveff lite cats and 'dogs togetlier, wliat ones is livin' beyond tlieir means, and who's over iead and ears in debt, and bow every lady in town carries on ber kitcbenary consarns, bow scrimpin' they bve, and all tbai. Sbe always bas some great excitin' piece o' scandal on ber bands tbat sarves for visitin' - capital; and wben pne wears out sbe trumps up another. Sbe 's an awftd disagreeable old critter, but still ther 's plenty o' folks that 's wilUn' to incourage ber, for the sakeo' hearin' her talk. Well, when the Sewin' Society muss come up, she was on, her high heels. It gin ber plenty o' business for a spell. She visited on the- strength on 't for, a month at least. As sure as the, day come round, off started Bethiar Nobles on her scandal-peddbn' expedition. Wherever sbe went, the first question she axed was: "Have you seen that article in. the Lady's Book?" and the next: "What do you think on't?" and. what ever they thought s/ie thought tew, and jawed away accordin'ly, and s;pent the day a tellin' what she heerd on both sides. One day she went to the minister's and spent the afternoon. After she 'd hauled out her knittin' work, and spread. her white handkerchief across her lap for show (she's an awful snuff-taker, and carries an old red silk one in ber pocket for use)— after she 'd hauled out her knittin' work, says she "Have you seen tbat piece that's come out in the Lady's Book?" 834 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. ' " I Ve seen a number of pieces in fhe Lady's Book," says tlie ministex's wife, " wMoli one do you refer to?" " Why, that one about tbe Sewin' Society tbat appeared ia tbe Jinuwary number," says Betbiar, saya sbe. " I bavent read tbat number at all," says the minister's wife. ' ' Mine was borrowed before I 'd bad time to open it." "WeU,./'^ seen it," says Betbiar; "and I tbink it 's complete. I bope tbe person tbat writ .that '11 keep on writin', and give it to 'em again. I never see notbin' to beat tbat description of tbe squire's wife — it 's ber to a T.' Tbey say sbe feeh it tew. I 'm glad sbe does ; and I bope it '11 make ber draw in ber borns and. remember ber origin,' and bebave a little more decent And Miss Teeters, I was glad to see ber ketcb it — 'ridicilous critter, neglectin' ber cbildxen and flirtia' round witb tbe young men all tbe time. And tbe Longs ; tbat's tbe best o' tbe bull ;" I tell ye, it done me good to see thmicut up. I bope it 'U larn. 'em to tbink for tbemselves, and not pin tbeir faitb to big folkses coat-tails. Tbey never bave no opinion o' tbeir own. I dew despise tbem Longs." Tbe minister's wife interrupted ber, and says sbe — " Dident you spend tbe day sX, Mr. Long's yester- day?" " Yes," says Bertbiar, says sbe. VISIT t6 slabtown. 835 " Seems to me it 's strange you should visit people you despise so," says the minister's wife>. Bethiar was rather nonplushed for a minute, and dident seem to know what to say. She hauled out her snuff-box and took a monstrous pinch, and draw*d round her nose one side and snuffed it up, and then draw'dit round t'other side and snuffed it up, agin; and when she 'd fixed out what to say, she begun : — : " Yes, I did spend the day there, and it 's the last day I 'U spend there for, one while, I guess ; for they had so much to say aginst you and yer husband that I was perfectly disgusted. They 'fe awful mad about that piece, and say. you writ it. I told 'em, whether you did or not, / thought 't was a first-rate thitig." So shfe run on, teUin' ever so much stuff that the Longs had said against the minister and his wife, and all how she tried to stop 'em, and felt so distresst to hear 'em. The minister's wife kept on sewin', and dident make no farther remark. Bethiar stayed all the after- noon and evenin', and talked and snuffed, and bored 'em through and through ; and then went off declarin' she 'd had a delightful visit. The next day she went to the squire's— ^Miss Teeters and Miss Hawkins was there, They was all glad to see Bethiar come in, for "they know'd she 'd bring the news. She told 'em she 'd ben to the minister's ; and they was wonderful cur'us to know how the minister's wife felt, and all she said and done. " Was she a 336 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS, writin'?" says Miss 'Teeters. ' "No," says BetHar; " not when I went in ; slie 'd jest tucked it away when she heerd the bell ring. I know'd by the lobks o' things that she 'd ben a writia'. She don't keep no help now ; and I stayed to tea a purpose to see what sort o' work she made gittin' vittals. ' When she went out to git tea I offered to go and help her; for I did want to take a peep into the butt'ry and see what con- dition 'twas in^ — ^they say these writin' wimmin is such sluttish critters about their houses. But she was tew cunnin' to let me See behind the curtin'. She said she dident need no assistance." " Whif dident you insist upon 't and go ahead, whether or no ?" says the squire's wife. " That 's the way I 'd a done." "Oh," says Bethiar, "she's so kind o' stifiF, I darsent ; but I took a good look round when I went into the bed-room to take off my things. I wish to gracious you could see the quilt that 's on her bed I It 's the greatest curiosity in the quiltin' line that ever I sot eyes on — old fashioned herrin' bone, the lines as much as tew inches apart-^without «tretchin', full tew inches apart 1" It 's cur'us, by the way, what a wonderful time the Slabtown wimmin make about their quUts. Ther seems to be a continniwal strife there as to who shall git the most stitchin' on a quilt. They crowd and stuff 'em as full o' work as they possibly can. Folks VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 837 that's able to buy han'some bed-kivers, never think o' such a thing. But they '11 spend ever so many weeks a diggin' away at a home-made bed-quilt, and git the neighbors together time and agin, and stitch, stitch, stitch, stitch, as if their lives depended on 't, and not feel satisfied till every spot as big as a six- pence is kivered with stitches. Eunice had a quHtin' while I was there. My eyes wa'n't good enough to work on the quUt, and Eunice dident seem to- be very sorry ; for she wa'n't very anxious to have me make my appearance among her genteel friends. So I staid up in my own, room. Ther was a stove-pipe hole in the floor from the parlor where they was quiltin', and I could hear 'em talk., Grammany, what a buzzin' they kept up! I tell ye, every body that wa'n't there had to take it, and no mistake. It would have to be a pretty skillful arithmeticker that could calculate how many characters can be puUed to pieces while one quilt 's a puttin' together. But I was tellin' about Bethiar Noble's account o' her visit to the parson's. She went on to tell, and says she — " And of all the teas that ever I sot down tew, if that wa'n't the beat!" (she praised up every thing sky high while she was eatin' on 't). " Baker's bread as dry as a stick. I s'pose she 's tew lazy to make her own bread, or else she has so much writin' to dew she" can't spend time; and the. cake — dear knows how 15 338 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEBS. long it had ben baked — and plnm-Bass as sour as vengeance." " But what did she say ?" says the squire's wife. " That 's the main pint. What did she have to say about the piece f" " She kept pretty mum about that, I tell ye," says Bethiar ; " for, you see, I pretended I dident k;now she writ it, so I went on and told my opiaion pretty freely. I said that I guessed if the writer on 't thought they was a gwine to iojure people of such standin' as the squire's wife and Miss Teeters, they 'd find them- selves mistaken. She look't awful mad, but never opened her head. Then I spoke o' the Longs, what fine people they was, and said I spent the day before with 'em. When I said that, she spoke up, and say- she : ' Well, / wouldent visit such despisable people.' " "She talked agamst the Longs, hey?" says the squire's wife. " Well, they ought to know it." " They shall know it," says Miss Teeters. " I thought I should tell 'em on 't," says Bethiar. " Well, they must know it to-day, for to-morrow 's Sunday," says Miss Hawkins. " I s'pose you calculate to spend the afternoon here, so I guess 1 11 jest run down myself and give 'em a hint on 't." Well, I kept a hearin' more and more every day,- and what to make on 't, I dident know. 'T was all "Miss Samson Savage, and Miss Stillman, and Miss VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 339 Fustick and Miss Sirsley." Thinks me,' how on arth has all this about our Sewin' Society. got out? and what makes the Slabtown folks think it means them? I was wonderful puzzled, but thought 'twa'h't best to say any thing about it. At last, one day,, Sam got hold of a Lady's Book, and fetcht it hum ; and Eunice took it and sot down to read the wbnderfol piece out loud. She turned along till she come to 't, and saya she: "Here 'tis-^'Aunt Magwire's Account of the Sewin' Society at Scrabble Hill.' " I tell you, I jumped as if I was shot : " Grammariy," says I, " that means me I" Then it begun to crawl through my hair that the name o' the book was " Godey's Lady's Book," and says I: "I '11 bet a dollar it's the same Mr. Grodey that I know, and he 's went and printed off that story that I told him about our Sewin' So- ciety." Afiber I got calmed down ahttle, Eunice went on and read it; and, sure enough, there 'twas, word for word, jest as I told it to Mr. Godey. I told 'em so. " Now, Sam," says I, "you go right off down-street, and tell every body that that are's a ginniwine de- scription of our Scrabble Hill Sewin' Society, and nothin* else." "I shan't dew it," says Sam. " They wouldent be- lieve a word on 't if I should ; and, besides-, I like to see the fun go on." ^J' I say so tew," says Eunice. " If they 're a mind 840 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. to take it tew themselves, let 'eba; they deserve a usin' up, and I 'd be, the last one to tell 'em they had- ent got it." Well; what to dew, I dident know; I was a stranger there, and couldent go round tellin'- how 'twas myself. But it did- hurt my feelins amazin'ly, to think that the minister's wife was a sufferin' for 't, and that his enemies was a ma;kin' a handle on't to injure him and drive him away. I pondered on 't, and pon- dered on't; and, at last, 1 made up my mind that the least I could dew would be go to the minister's and explain it tew 'em. So I told Sam and Eunice what I meant to dew. But they tried to persuade me not to. Eunice said 'twas aU nonsense; she wa'n't ac- quainted with the minister's wife, but she looked like a very stiff, haughty woman, and she 'd treat me cool, and I 'd have my labor for my pains. But I deter- mined to set my own conscience at rest, so I put on my things and started off. Eunice tried with jail her might to stop me, but my mind was made up. Sam wouldent go with me, nor tell me where they lived, so I had to inquire the way as I went. 'Twas a moonlight night, and I dident have no trouble in findin' the house; but 'twas onpleasant to be out alone in a strange place. "When I gof to the door- steps my courage failed, and I was afeard to ring the bell ; I dident know but what ther was company in, and dident want to go in if ther was. I noticed^ VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 341 little crack one side o' the winder stades, so 1 stepped up_ softly and peeped in. Ther wa'n't nobody there TdUJ; the minister's wife; she sot by the table a darnin' stockins, and ther was a big basketful o' duds beside her, that she was a gwine to mend. She looked like a good natered woman. I stood and watched her for some time. As I was a lookin' at her, I noticed a smile come over her face. Thinkame, I'll bet a dol- lar she 's a thinkin' about the " Sewin' Society." A minute after, the smile went off^ and she looked troubled and oneasy; thinks me, she's a wonderin' what '11 turn up, next. It made me think of poor Miss Scrantum, and her troubles. After a spell I plucked up courage and pulled the bell. She com.e to the door and axed me in ; but after I 'd got seated, I did- ent know how to begin nor what to say. The minis- ter's wife see that I felt aukard, so she made some re- ■ mark about the weather, and so on ; then she axed me to take off my things; I thanked her, and said I couldent stay long. At last I ham'd and haw'd, and stammered out : " I hope you '11 pardon a Stranger for intrudin' on you?" "No intrusion at all," says she; " every body 's welcome to the minister's house." So then, I felt relieved, and saysT : " I come from Scrab- ble HUl to visit a relation o' mine that lives here ; and I 've happened to come just in the midst o' the muss they 've kicked up about that piece they 're a layin' to you. I know all the folks that it tells about." 342 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. "You do?" says she. "And do you know Aunt Magwire ?" I riz up, and makin' as good a curcliy as I know'd how, says I: " I 'm tkat individdiwal, at yer service." " Indeed," says ske, comin' up to me and skakin' hands with me ; " well, I 'm very glad to see you though you have got me into a muss." " dear me," says I, " I hope you don't think I know'd that story was a gwine to travel to Slabtown, when I told it to Mr. Godey?" " Law, no," says she ; " don't give yourself the least trouhle about it ; you ain't a bit to blame." " Well, I 'm glad you feel so," says I ; "but ain't it cunis that the Slabtown folks should take it aU to themselves as they dew ?" " Not at all," says she ; " human natur 's the same every where." "I guess so," says I. "Any how, your Sewin' Society must be wonderfully like our'n, or they wouldent be so detarmined it means them ; but what hurts my feehn's is, that you should have to suffer for 't. I was so distrest when I heerd they was a lay- in' on 't to you, and usin' on 't to injure yer husband, that I felt as if I must come right over and see you, though you was a stranger. If any body 's to blame, I 'm willin' to bear it." , " fie," says she, " don't you fret yourself a bit about it. If people choose to fit your coats to their VISIT TO SLABTOWN. 843 own backs, 't ain't yonr fault ; and if they fit nice and snug, perhaps they '11 do as good service as if they ■were made expressly for 'em." " Jest so," says I. " But it does seem tew bad that you should suffer for 't. Ain't ther no way o' puttin' a stop tew it?" " Never you mind," says she ; " we minister's folks must have our trials, of one sort or another, where- ever wei go. If we hadent this perhaps we should have somethin' still worse." " But," says I, " what if they should drive you away from here?" She smiled, and dident say nothin'. " Well," says I, " to judge from what I !ve seen o' Slabtown since I come here, I 'm bold to say that, if 'they do drive you away, they can't possibly drive you to a worse place." " Hush, Aunt Magwire," says she, " human natur s the same every where; we must expect trouble wherever we go. I feel prepared for almost any thing." "Yes," says I, "I s'pose you feel a good deal as that fox in the story did, when them miserable insects was a bitin' him. ' Let 'em alone,' says he ; ' for if you drive 'em away ther '11 come a hungrier swarm.' " Well, that was the amount of our conversation. The minister's wife was very polite to me, and I in- vited her to call on me if ever she coine through 344 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. Scrabble Hill. She said she -would, and hoped we should git better acquainted. I com« away a few days after that, and I ruther guess it '11 be a good while afore I go a visitin' to Slabtown agin'. The place is tew awful ginteel to suit my taste. XSVIII. TTE 'S a mortal teaze, husband is. He does like a joke about as well as any man I ever see. But lie 's always good-natured, hain't no malice at heart in his capers. He was a leetle wicked though about .that are cider hoax he played off on Deacon Whipple and Deacon Bedott. See- — did you ever hear about that? Well, I 'H tell you, for I think 't was one o' the cutest tricks he ever come. But in the first place you must know what sort o' a man Deacon Whipple was, or else you won't sense the joke. Well, accordin' to my notion, he was about as contemptible a specimen of a man as ever walked shoe-leather. I always thought so, and so. did husband, though ther was a good many folks in Wiggletown looked upon him as clear perfec- tion, 'cause he had so mu6h sanctimony. He come from MeddleviUe to our town, and he was so wonder- ful pious, and made such an awful parade of his relig- ion, prayin' and exortin' and laborin' for souls, as he called it, that when he 'd ben there about three months, they made him deacon. As soon as lie was promoted, 16* 846 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. lie begun meddlin' in every body's bizness the -worst ■way, -watclim' all the naborhood, and takin' on 'em to dew for every little thing that dident happen to come come up to his idees o' duty. This he called " consarn for the -welfare o' Zion." As sure as ther -was a party o' young folks, there -was Deacon Whipple's long nose poked into some o' the -winders to pry out -what ■was done. And if ther -was any church members among 'em, and they happened to play " Button — ^but- ton 1 -whose got the button ?" or danse round a little, he 'd have 'em hauled up before the session to anser for 't. It seemed to dew him a deal o' good to ketch any o' the brethren or sisters a trippin'. A body 'd a thought he spent the heft of his time a pryin' into other folks' bizness, but some how or other he man- aged to take care of his o-wn te-w ; he was a tailor by trade, and a reg'lar old cabbagin' skinflint to boot. That reminds me o' what Jo Snyder said to him once. You see he was an awful stingy critt'er, and so was Miss Whipple. The 'printices used to complain dret- fully o' ther livih' — said they was nigh about starved. Well, Jo Snyder he stuck his head into the shop -win- der one day and says he (Jo was an independent crit- ter), says he, " Deacon, how comes it you starve yer 'printices so, when you 're always so flush o' cabbage ?" The deacon was a-wful mad. Says he to Jo, "If you was & professor you 'd ketch it." He was a monstrous mean-too/cm' man tew. You 'd a know'd to see him in DEACON WHIPPLE. 347 the street tliat lie was' a contracted critter — ^had a stin- gy kind of a walk-^went along as if lie begrudged the room he took up. The circnmstance I was a gwine to tell took place when he 'd ben deacon only a httle risin' tew year — and it 's a soUem fact, ther 'd ben more cases o' deseplyne in that short time than ther ever was afore sense the place was settled. Now Deacon Bedott wa'n't such a man at all. He was great on prayin' and exortin', but he dident meddle in his nabors' consaras, nor think himself so much pious- er and better 'n all the rest o' creation. Well, the next fall arter we come away from Wiggletbwn, husband and me went- out there- a- visitin'. You see Mother Poole and Mother Magwire both lived there, and Sis- ter Bedott tew, and I spent the time visitin' round from one to t' other. Well, one evenin' I was to Sis- ter Bedott's — ^husband had gone over to Mother Ma- gwire's. 'T was about a year afore Deacon Bedott died, and he wa'n't very well — ^you know he was fee- ble a number o' years afore his death. Well, he and Sister Silly and me was a settin' round the settin'-room fire, and Artemishy Pike — ^the Widder Pike's oldest , darter — she was a spendin' the evenin' there. Arte- mishy was jest a teUin' us about Deacon Whipple's comin' to thair house the day afore to take Cinthy (her youngest sister) to dew, 'cause he 'd heerd how 't she 'tended a ball when she was over to Varmount a visitin' ; and Artemishy was in an awfal fidgit about 348 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. it, for fear lie 'd have her hauled up for 't, and she wanted Deacon Bedott to try to prevent it. Well, she was just a tellin' about it when ther come a knock to the door. " "Walk in," says Sister Bedott— and who should walk in but Deacon "Whipple, wit"h Deacon Kenipe and Deacon Crosby on behind him ! " There," says I to Artemishy, " the Old One 's always at hand when you 're talkin' about him." " Hush !" says she. " Lawful sakes !" says I ; "I ain't afeard o' bein' haul- ed up — I don't live here." When they come in, Ar- temishy looked half-skairt to death. She thought they 'd come to talk about deaHn' with Cinthy, but Sis- ter Bedott whispered tew her, and says she, " Don't be afeard ; I don't bleve it 's Cinthy. I guess more likely it 's Sue Collins." ('T was the same time they had Tier over the coals.) Whatever 't was, we all know'd 'twas purty important bizness, for Deacon Whipple lookt wonderful hig and awful sollem : his face was about half a yard long. But though he tried to appear as if he felt dretful bad, 't was plain to be seen he was enjoyin' a state of intarnal satisfaction — ■ lookt jest as he always did when he got hold of apase that suited him to a T. But Deacon Kenipe and Dea- con Crosby lookt as if they raly felt bad. (They was very clever men indeed.) They dident say a word, but Deacon Whipple he convarsed a spell about matters and things in gineral, said the we; ^.common fine for the season o' year, c 'fill DEACON WHIPPLE. 349 abundant, 'specially the apple crop— ttougli 't-was.to be lamented that any o' the gpod critters o' Providence should be abused and turned to the ruination o' man- kind as apples was by bein' made into cider. Then he went on to deplore the low state o' religion ia the place, axed us wimmin folks about the state of our minds and so on, and then said they 'd come on pri- vate bizness and would like to see Deacon Bedott alone a spell. So we three wimmin got up and went into the kitchen. " Kow," says Sister Bedott, says she, " I feel as if I 'd like to know what they 'ye come for — wouldent you?" "Yes," says we. "Well, then, "says Silly, " let 's go into the buttry and listen," " Agreed," says we. So in we went. You see ther , was a passage between the settin'-room and the-kitch- en, and on one side o' this passage the buttry was sit- tiwated ; and th^ was a door leadin' from the buttry into the settin'-room, and atop o' this door ther was an awful wide crack, so 't a body could hear every word that was said in the settin'-room there. Well, in we goes, as stiU as mice. Artemishy and me we got up on an old box and peeped through the crack, and Sis- ter Bedott she put her ear to the keyhole. Deacon Whipple had begun to talk afore we got fixed. The first thing I heerd- him say,_ says he, " It 's very on- . pleasant bizness, very indeed. I assure you it 's very tryin' to my feelins to be necessiated to rebuke a bro- ther, but it seems to be an insurmountable duty in 350 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. this case. We 're all poor errin' critters ; tlie best on, us is liable to go astray and fail in our duty. I 'm free to confess tbat even Jbave niy sbortcomins "■ — ^I guess he had an attack on 't when he cut husband's panta- loons ; they was so short and so tight he had to give 'em to Jeff — " I have my shortcomins, and I feel to mourn for 't ; I feel to lament that I 'm fraquently cold and slack in dewin' my duty^ — don't keep such a constant watch round the walls o' Zion as I 'd ought tew. I feel as if it may be owin' to my onfaithflilness Brother Bedott, that you 've fell into the practice o' such a hyneous offence — ahem " "Gosh I "says Deacon Bedott, says he — (now Deacon Bedott never used bad language in his life, but once in a while when he was dretfuHy took by surprise he used to say "gosh!") — ^"Grosh," says he, "I want to know if you was a meanin' me all this time ? Well, I 'd like to know what I 've ben a dewin' ?" "0 dear," says Sil- ly, says she, " it 's husband, it 's husband ! What has he done — ^what has he doneV " Don't make a foss," says I ; "they '11 hear you, and we shall have to clear out." Deacon Bedott went on ; "I ain't aware o' beia' in the practice of any known sin. If I 've done wrong in any way I 'm wUlin' to be told on 't, and I hbpe I shall take your rebuke as I 'd ought tew — ^though as I said afore I ain't aware o' bein' in the -practice of any hyneous offense, as you call it." Says Deacon Whipple, says he, with a rael provokin' grin, " I 'm DEACOlir WHIPPLE. 851 raly sorry you 're so dull of apprehension, Brother Be- dott. It 's truly lamentyble, wlien a brother, that 's ben apparently a burnin' and shinin' light, turns out to be such agreevibus transgresser — ^when sinners round is in such perishin' need o' haTin' good examples sot afore 'em, to niake 'em cast down the weapons o' rebellion. And it 's still woss, when siibh a baokslidin' brother is reasoned with, to see him refuse to confess his faults, and repent of his sins and mend his ways." " Dew tell me," says Deacon Bgdott, says he, "what the sin is, and if I Ve raly been guilty on 't, I'll repent, and confess, and forsaka it tew." "I'm sorry to see you so obderret," says Deacon Whipple, says he. " You know, Scripter says, if a brother is overtook in a fault, ""the brother must go tew him and tell him on't — and if he refuses to hear '«ln, why, he must be dealt with afore the congregation ; and I 'm afeard that 's what 2/ott ^U have to come tew. Brother Bedott, if you hold out so." " O misery me 1" says Silly, says she, " What has that man ben a dewin / what has' he ben a dewin ! O dear me I what an onfortunit woman I be 1" , " Sil-. ly," says I, •" why can't you shet yer head ? Take my word for 't, he hain't done nothin' — it '11 turn out, to be jest nothin' at all, I '11 bet a goose, so dew be easy." Well, arter Deacon Whipple had gone on so for ever so long. Deacon Bedott got clear out o' patience, and says he, "Eor massy's sake, what is it? Brother Kenipe, Brother Crosby, dew teU me what 352 ■WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. 't is." " I 'd rather not," eays Deacon Kenipe, says Tie, " Brother Whipple begun, and he ought to finish." "I say so tew," says Deacon Crosby. "Why," says Deacon Whipple, "it's curus that Brother Bedott should be so onwillin' to own up, without my comin' right out." "Oldear me, suz!" says Sister Bedott, "that he should be a cuttin' capers, and me never sus- pect him on't! Melissy, I shall die I I shall die!" and she begun wringin' her hands like mad, " You simple critter," says I, "dew save yer highsteerics till there 's occasion for 'em ; dew keep still, they 'U hear you, sartin sure, and if they should ketch us a hstenin', 't would ruin all our three repertations." On account o' Silly's interruption, we lost what Deacon Whipple said nest — and the first thing, we heerd arter she got' quiet agin, was Deacon Bedott sayin' " It 's curus you should be so wiUin' to believe such a story about me, when you 've know'd me some years, and hain't never heerd nothin' o'' the kind till now." " I for one wa'n't willin' to believe it," says Deacon Kenipe; "nor I nother," says Deacon Crosby, says he. " Now, ther ain't no use in denyin' on 't. Brother Bedott," says Deacon Whipple, says he — " A few years ago, 't wa'n't thought to be no great crime, to take a glass o' sperrits now and then ; ther wa'n't so much light on the sub- ject as ther is now in these ere temperance days ; but, even then, 'twas eny most an onheerd-of thing for any body, to git intosticated on cider — ^as you 're in a DEACON WHIPPLE. 853 habit- o' dewin' now against KgHt and privelidge-^— and you a deacon tew — a man that makes such' high pre- tensions. Brother Bedott ! it 's a hyneous and a cryin' sin." " Gonsarn it 1" says Deacon Bedott, says he, " dew stop a minnit and let one speak; I want to know, who said I was in a habit o' takin' tew mnch." "Whoever 'twas," says Silly, says she, "they lied, and they know'd it, and I '11 tell Deacon Whipple so — ■ lenome come, Melissy." (It always made Silly awfial mad to have any body else run the deacon down, though she used to give it tew him herself, like the dragon sometimes.) " Woman alive," says I, " what be you dewin ! you shan't go out there — you '11 jest spile the hull — and we shan't hear another word — it '11 be time enough for you to put in bymeby." She made such a noise, they 'd a heerd her, if they hadent a. got to talkin' purty loud themselves. Well, she got" still ; and the next thing I heerd was Deacon Kenipe sayin', says he, " Brother Whipple, dew come to the • piat; dew tell Brother Bedott, who 'twas — and don't hurt his feelins. any more 'n you can help." " Well, then," says Deacon Whipple, says he, "'twas yer brother-in-law, Mr. Magwire." "Gracious sakes alive!"says Deacon Bedott, says he, "did Josh say that about me ? What on arth did the critter mean ?" "He meant what he said, I s'ppse," says Deacon Whipple, " that you 're in a habit o' gittin' corned on cider." Says Deacon Bedott, says he, "Did Josh say 354 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. he'd actillj seera me drunk on cider?" "He meant so, ondoubtedly," says Deacon Whipple; "tho' them ■wa!riLt precisely the words he used; he called to my shop to-day a purpose to tell me on't, said 'twas awful tryiu' to his feehns, to be obleeged to expose you, not only on account o' your bein' a connection o' hisen, but 'cause he raly thought you was a worthy man in the main; 'but,' says he, 'I dew feel as if I couldent leave Wiggletown with a clear conshence, . without teUin' you. that I 've actUly know'd Deacon Bedott to be the woss for cider ! — as true as my name 's Joshuway Magwire, I 've seen that man half shaved on cider afore breakfast in the momin'.' Now, though I hain't no very high opinion o' Mr. Magwire, bein' he 's a worldly man, and don't know nothin' about experimental religion, I dew b'leve, he wouldent teU such a thing as that right out and out, if 'twa'n't true, 'specially about his brother-in-law. I should a went right over to Parson Potter about it, if he 'd ben to hum, but he 's gone a journey, you know. 0, how that man will take it to heart, when he hears ther 's such a wolf in sheep's clothin' in the midst o'his flock ! So I goes over and tells Brother Kenipe and Brother Crosby on 't. They was very onwiUin' to come over with me to labor with you to-night. I 'm sorry to say, they 're ginerally slack about dewin' their duty in cases o' deseplyne — the heft on 't comes on to me, and I 'm thankful I 'm always ready to lift a warnin' DEACON WHIPPLE. 855 Toice in sinners' ears, and dew my endeever toTeclaim backsliders, and my exartions' has been blest beyond my most sanguinary expectations. I hain't expected much help from yoii on account o' yer poor health ; and I feel to rejoice now, that you hain!t ben active sence you 've turned out to be such a hyneous trans- gressor— O, Brother Bedott ! if you 're half shaved on cider afore breakfast, what must be yer condition afore night! purty well upsot I should think." Deacon Bedott dident say a word; he said afterward he thought he 'd let Brother Whipple go on, and see how much he would say. After a minnit Deacon Whipple begun agin' and says he, " Dew you still continue to deny it?" Deacon Bedott never opened his head. " Well," says Deacon Whipple, says he, " silence gives consent ; so, I s'pose you don't mean to hold out no longer, and say 't ain't a fact. Well 't ain't tew late to repent and reform yet, I hope yo«. '11 make up yer mind, to come forrard next Sabberday, and confess yer besettin' sin 'afore the congregation ;. and mabby you '11 go to the temperance meetin' next Saturday night, if you 'r able to git out, and give an account o' yer experence in drinkin' — reformed iaeebrits does a naense sight of good tellin' the particlder circum- stances 'tendin' their downfall and reformation — and, I should think your experence would have an atten- dancy to be useful as a warnin' to moderit drinkers — by showin' on 'em what they 've got to come tew, if 356 WIDOW JBEDOTT PAPERS. they ain't nipt in the bud. If you don't consent to dew any or both o' these, why, we '11 have to deal with you, that 's all. We don't want to expose you no more 'n wiiat 's necessary. I hain't said a word about it to nobody, but jest my wife. What dew you say to confession? laffin hey !" (You see. Deacon Bedott begun to grin.) " 0-, Brother Bedott, what a tremen- judus, sinner you be ! not only to refuse to confess yer inicMties, but.laff at 'emi! Dew you still continner to deny it?" Jest then, husband bust into the room ; and Jo Snyder and Shubal Green and Mr. Smith and Doctor Pite (Artemishy's brother), ,and Sam Colhns (Jue's brother)-^they 'd followed the session to the hpuse, and ben a listenin' to the door ever sence. Husband, he went straight up to Deacon Bedott and shook his fist in his face, and says he, " Deny it if you darst afore me'.^-dident I see you half shaved on cider this very mornin' ? dident J empty the water out o' yer shavin' cup onbeknown to nobody, while it was a heatin' ? and dident I fill it up with some o' SiUy's sweet cider she 'd got to make sass on ? and was n't I a settin' by when you took it off the stove? and was n't I a lookin' on, when you had such a dretful time a tryin' to make yer lather ? and dident I see you scrape and saw away at your face till the blood run ? and dident I see you throw d6wn yer razor at last, and declare the old dragon was in it I and was n't you jest about half shaved then ? say I and dident I DEAoOK -WHIPPLE. §57 bust out a laffin tlien, ana tell you 't was the fust time I ever see yoU thewoss for cider?— deny it, if you darst" " I .plead guilty,"- says Deacon, Bedott, says he. Then we wimmin folks bust out o' the buttry into the settin' 'room ; and ther was such a gineral roarin' and laffin' as I never heerd afore nor sence. Deacon Kenipe and Deacon Crosby got up and shook hands with Deacon Bedott and axed Ms pardin* for comin'' over there to take hini' to dew— and Deacon Bedott, he told 'em,. they wa'n't to blame at all — and Silly, she was so tickled ; she lafft one minnit, and • cried the next, and eny most Went into highsteerics : and Artemishy, she laffed, tod Mr. Magwire and the men folks they hollered ; and you never seen such a time as ther was. Deacon Bedott was a very kind^ hearted man, and he thought they was a most tew hard- on Deacon Whipple, so he turned round to apol- igize to him, and lo and behold I he 'd took advantage o' the commotion and slipt out. But though Deacon Bedott tried to look sober, and told husband 't was tew bad to play off such a joke— 't was plain to be seen he wa'n't sorry to see Deacon "Whipple come up with. Poor Deacon Whipple ! 't was a humblin' stroke tew him — every body was throwin' on 't in his face-^he couldent go no wher, but what that cider was throw'd in his face. And Miss Whipple tew— she felt awful mean about it— you see she 'd ben all round thfe na^ ■borhood a tellin' that Deacon Bedott was a drinkin' 358 Widow bedott papbbs. man. But it cured Deacon WMpple of Ms consarn for the welfa/re o' Zion ; he never made another com- plaint aginst nobody wliile lie lived there ; and about six months afterward, he moved away from Wiggle- town. XXIX. "V/TE. Jolm Darling, a worthy and intelligent me- clianio, who has been, for two years past, a resi- dent of our town, was somewhat surprised and consid- erably Ratified one day last fall, at receiving an invi- tation to dine with Colonel Philpot, one of the aristoc- racy. Mr, Darling enjoys that respect in our community which mechanical ingenuity and integrity united are always sure to command every where. These quali- ties, and a more than ordinary degree of iaformation, acquired by the employment of much of his leisure time in reading, have given him an almost unbounded influence among his own class. Though the invitation to Colonel P.'s created some surprise in his mind, he felt more disposed to be pleas- ed at the honor than to question the motives which prompted it ; for his nature is wholly free from sus- picion and the petty feeling of jealousy which those in his station sometimes indulge toward the "upper ten " 360 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. — ^feelings witli which, we are sorry to say, the bosom of his better half was frequently agitated. " We have been neighbors for some time, Mr. Dar- ling," said Colonel Philpot ; " it is time we were better acquainted. You must come and dine socially with me to-monrow. Mrs. Philpot and the children are out of town, and I am going to have a few friends to en- liven my solitude." So John Darling " saved his appetite," dressed him- self in his best clothes, and, at the appointed hour^r-a somewhat later one than his customary time for dining — repaired to Colonel Philpo't's. He met there several of his associates — ^had a " fine time and a grand dinner" — ^the utmost hilarity and good feeling prevailed ; and Mr, Darling entertained his wife with an account of it at every meal for sever- al weeks. " Hester," said he one day, as they were seated at a codfish dinner, "did you ever taste a potato pud- ding?" "Potato pudding! No;.! never heerd of ^cha thing." " "Well, I wish you could, for 't is dehcious I We had one when I dined at Colonel Philpot's." " I wonder what you didn't have at Colonel PhU- pot's," said Mrs. Darling. " I declare, I 'm tired hear- ing about it." " Well, I '11 tell you one thing we did n't have — we EECIPE FOE POTATO PUDDING. 361 did n't have coc^^sA. But, tliat pudding — I wisli you'd learn how to make it ; it was superb !" "I presume so ; and I guess, if I had half a dozen servants at my heels, and a thorough-trained cook into the bargain, I could have things superb, too. Eut, as long as I have every thing to do myselfj and very little to do with, I don't see how I'm to get up things in style. I wonder you can expect me to." " I don't expect you to, Hester. You always do things to suit my taste. But that pudding was excel- lent; and, being made of potatoes, I thought, of course it must be economical, and — " " Economical 1 That 's all you know about it. What gumps men are I I'U warrant it had forty dif- ferent -things in it, and less potatoes than 9,ny thing else. I 'm no hand to fuss up. I like plain cookery, for my part." " So do I, as a general thing. But then, you know, it 's well to liave something a little better than ordina- ry once in a whUe." " "Well, if you 're not satisfied with my way of doing things, you must hire a cook, or go and board out." And Mrs. Darling put on her injured hole, and remained silent during the rest of the dinner. But, after all, she was not an ill-natured woman reaUy ; and, after her husband had gone to his shop, she began to feal a little pricked in her conscience for having been so cross at dinner. She wished she had 16 862" WIDOW BBDGTT FAPEES. not gone oh at sucL. a rate. But, then, Jotn had bored her so about that dinner at Colonel Philpot's, she was out' of patience with it. Yet what right had she to be out of patience with John ? He never was out of pa- tience with her, and she could but acknowledge that he often had reason to be so. So she resolved to make it up as soon as possible. " John," said she, as she handed him a cup of tea, " I 've a, great notion to try tHat potato pudding. I believe I eoulS make one." " No doubt of it, Hester," said her husband ; " you can do almost any thing you try to." "I suppose it takes butter, and sugar, and eggs, and spices, and so forth ; but I wish I knew the propor- tions." " It 's very easy to find out all .about it by calling at Colonel Philpot's. He said his wife would be delight- ed to get acquainted with you." ".So you Ve told me a dozen times ; but I think that, if she wanted to get acquainted with me^ she might call upon me. She 's lived here longer than I have, and it isn't my place to call first; and I don't believe the colonel tells the truth when he says she wants to get acquainted with me." " Well, I always think people mean as they say, and I wish you would, too, Hester." " But it 's very evident that she holds herself a great deal above me. She has no reason to, certainly, for EEOIPE FOR POTATO PUDDING. 363 her family was n't half as respectable as mine. Mrs. David Potter knows all about them, root and branch, and she Says that Mrs. Philpot's father kept a very low tavern in Norridge, and Mrs. PhUpot herself tended the bar when she was a girl. But, somehow, Colonel Philpot happened to fall in love with her, and he sent her away to school, and then married her," " Well, that 's nothing against her, is it?" "JSTo, of course it would n't be, if she didn't carry her head so high now. But it 's always* the way with such persons — they never know how to bear prosper- ity. There would n't be any thing said about her ori- gin, if she did n't put on such airs ; but, as long as she feels so lifted up, folks will talk you know." " Perhaps you don't do her justice, Hester. You know nothing about her excepting what you 've heard. At any rate, it would do no harm to call upon her." After repeated conversations and discussions of this sort, Mrs. Darling concluded to pay Mrs. Philpot a visit. She could make the potato pudding an excuse, and be ^governed by Mrs. P.'s reception in regard to further intercourse. Mrs. Philpot has been, for sever- al^Rrs past, to use her own expression, " very unfor- tunate in her domestics." With the exception of her cook — -up to the time of Mrs. Darling's call — she had seldom kept one above a month, and sometimes not as long as that. This frequent change of servants was not so much owing to any unkindness on Mrs. Phil- 364 •WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. pot's part, as to the fact that Mrs. Mudlaw, her cook, could never agree with them. This fanGtionary had been, for several years, a fixture in Colonel P.'s estab- lishment ; indeed, Mrs. P. declared she could not pos- sibly get along without her. Mrs. Mudlaw was in fact, a good cook, and so entirely relieved that lady from all care in that department that, rather than part with her, she was willing to submit' to her petty tyr- anny in every thing. The cook actually " ruled the roast " at Colonel P.'s in more than one sense. And she did not often find the subalterns of the house- hold as submissive to her wishes as, Mrs. Philpot her- self was. She contrived to quarrel them away in a short time, for she had only to say to Mrs. P., " "Well, either Bridget or I must quit, so you may take your • choice ;" and the offending servant-maid was dismissed forthwith, thtere being no appeal from Mrs. Mudlaw's decision. A scene of this kind had just occurred when Mrs. Darhng made her visit, and a new raw Irish girl had that morning been installed in place of the one dis- charged. The duty of this girl was to answer the door-bell, and help Mrs. Mudlaw. In fact, the Wid- est and most disagreeable of the kitchen-work came upon her. When Mrs. Darling rang,- Mrs. Philpot was in the kitchen giving instructions to Peggy, or rather acquiescing in those which Mrs. Mudlaw was laying down. EECIPE FOB POTATO PUDDING, 365 " THere goes the bell," said that important person- age, and Mrs. Philpot hastened to an upper window to see who it was. Having satisfied herself, she came back and told Peggy to go and admit the lady. " Why don't you start, you?" said Mrs. Mudlaw. " "Well, what '11 1 do now ?" said - Peggy, whirling round in that bewildered way peculiar to Irish girls. " Do !" roared Mudlaw. " Don't you know nothin'? Hain't we jest been tellin' ye 't was your duty to tend to the door-bell ? Eun to the front door and let 'em in, and show 'em into the drawin'-room. You know where that is, don't you ?" " Faith, I know that" answered Peggy, and away she ran, thanking her s^rs that there was at least one -thing that she knew. "It's no one that' I know, I'm sure," said Mrs. Philpot, after Peggy had gone ; " at- least the bonnet and shawl are not familiar to me. I presume it is somebody I don't care about seeing." "I should n't wonder," said Mudlaw. "But I s'pose you could n't do otherways, as the curnel has given orders th^ nobody ain't to be refused till after 'fecftbw." With much confusion and toe-stubbling, the unfor- tunate Peggy ushered Mrs. Darling intO' the nursery, which was also Mrs. Philpot's ordinary sitting-room. It was directly over the kitchen,- and heated by the cooking stove by the means of a drum, or dummy, as 366 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEB^. Mrs. Mudlaw called it. Every word that, was said in tlie kitchen could easily be heard in the nursery — qtxite a convenience to Mudlaw, as it enabled her often to communicate with Mrs. Philpot without the trouble of going up stairs. Many an interesting aceount of whait she did when Mr. Mudlaw was living, and how they managed at Greneral K.'s when she was staying there, has gone up that stove-pipe. The nursery was in a state of the greatest disorder,, as was ]isually the case, though the children were all out- just then. Sukey the nurse-girl, had taken the baby out to ride, and PhUip Augustus had gone with them ; and Zoe Matilda was at school. Playthings of every description, darts, horses, dolls, as well as chil- dren's books and clothes, were scattered about the room in what Mrs. Darling called " awful confusion." But iShe had not time for inward comments upon this state of things, before her attention was called to the con- versation below. "It's Mrs. Darling as washes to see you mum," said Peggy. " That Mrs. Darhng ! Did you df er !" exclaimed Mrs. Philpot. " She ain't nobody, is she ?" said Mrs. Mudlaw. "Nobody at all. Her husband is a cabinet-maker ; but the colonel has charged it upon me to be polite to her jest now. He wished me to call upon her ; but I would n't condescend to stoop so low as that, though KECIPJB FOE POTATO PUDDING. 367 he, mad^ me promise to treat her witli attention if she -ealled." ' ' " Well, I wouldent do- it, if I was you," said the cook. "I'd. be mistress in my own house any how." " But, you know, it 's for his interest now. He says that Darling has a great deal of influence among mechanics — can command a good many votes." " Oh, I remember now ! he 's one of them codgers that dined here while you was away, that the cumel was a laughin' about afterward, and. telling you how awkward they handled the silyer forks." " Yes ; is n't it -provoking to have to be p61ite to such people ? "Well, I shall be glad when 'lection 's ov^r, for the colonel says I may cut them all then, and I think it won't be long before they sink back to their own level." And Mrs. Philpot arose with a sigh, and ascended to the drawing-room, arranging her features into a gracious and patronizing expression as she went. Mrs. Darling's feelings during this conversation " can be better imagined than described," as the novels would say. Her first impulse was to leave the house without waiting for Mrs. PhUpot's appearance, and she rose and made a few ^teps with that intention ; but, on second thoughts, she xesolved. to remain, and let her know that she only came on an errand, and re- sumed her seat. When Mrs.. Philpot found no one in the drawing- 368 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPERS. room she returned to tlie kitcten, supposing that her visitor had gone. '■' She 's gone," said she, " without waiting for me. She does n't know enough about good soeiety to un- derstand that a lady does n't make her appearance the moment she 's called for." "I shouldn't wonder if she was in the nursery all the time," said Mudlaw; "for I heard a stepping up there a while ago, and the children hain't got home yet. "JVhere did you take her to, you ?" " Why, I tuck her in the dhrawin'-room, sure, as you tould me, right overhid," said Peggy, in some alarm. "You blunderin' Irish gumphead! Don't you know the drawin'room from the nursery?" "Och! but I thought it was the dhrawin'-room; for dident I see the young masther a dhrawin' his cart, an-d was n't Shukey a dhrawin' the baby about the floore by its feet, when I went up to take the wather this mornin' ?" " There, I told you she was a born fool !" said Mud- law, in a rage. " She 'U never know nothing — she 'U never learn nothing — ^you may as well send her off first as last." "Hush! don't speak so loud," said Mrs. Philpot, in a whisper. " She can hear all you say — she has heard enough already. Dear me, what shall I do? The colonel will be so provoked ! How could you be so EEOIPE FOE POTATO PUDDING. 369 dumb, Peggy ? Run rigTit up and take her intb the drarwing-room. Stop ! you needn't ; you ■will make some other mistake. I 'U. go myself." In a state of mind not to be envied, Mrs- PhUpot hastened to the nursery. But as she entertained a faint hope that the 'conversation below had not pene- trated through Mrs. Darling's bonnet, she endeavored to hide her embarrassment under an affable smile, ex- tended her hand gracefully, and drawled Out a genteel welcome to her visitor. * "Delighted to see you, Mrs. Darling; but very sorry you should have been brought into the nursery" —no wonder she's sorry, thought Mrs. Darhng — ■ "these raw Irish girls are so stupid ! Walk into the parlor, if you please." " No, I thank you, Mrs. Philpot, I 'd as soon sit here," returned Mrs. Darling. "I can only stay a moment. I called to ask for a recipe for potato pud- ding. Mr. Darling tasted one when he dined with Colonel Philpot, and liked it so much that he wished me to get directions for making it." " Potato pudding ? Ah, yes, I recollect. Mudlaw, my cook, does make a very good plain thing that she calls a potato pudding ; but I know nothing about her manner of preparing it. I will call her, however, and she shall teU you herself." Thereupon she pulled the bell, and Peggy shortly appeared, looking more fiightei^ed and bewildered than ever. 16* 370 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. " Send Mudlaw here," said Mrs. PHlpot. She wotild not have dared' to address her " chief cook and bottle-washer" without the respectful title of Mrs. ; but it was rather more grand to omit it, and she always did so when not in her hearing. "The missus said I was to send you there," said Peggy. '^You send me/" exclaimed the indignant cook; "I guess when I go for your sending, it '11 be after this." ' Mrs. Philpot, although conversing in a condescend- ing manner with Mrs. Darling, caught something of the cook's reply to her summons, and asked to be excused for a moment, saying that Peggy was so stupid, she feared that Mudlaw might not understand her, and she would go herself and send her. So she hastened down to the kitchen, where she found the head func- tionary standing on her dignity. "Pretty well," said she, "if I am to be ordered round by an Irish scullion !" " Mrs. Mudlaw, step here a moment, if you please," said Mrs. Philpot meekly, opening the door of an ad- joining room. The offended lady vouchsafed to comply with the* request, and with a stern aspect, entered the room with Mrs. Philpot. The latter closed the door for fear of being heard overhead, and began — "What do you think) Mrs. Mudlaw? That Mrs. EBCIPE FOE POTATO PUDDINU. 371 Darling^has come to learn how to make potato pud- ding, and you '11 have to go up and tell her." " I sha'n't do it. I make it a point never to give my recipes to nobody." "I know it^ and, I'm sure I don't blame you. But, in this case — just now — ^I really don't see how we can refuse." "Well, I sha'n't- do it, and that's the hull on't." " Oh, do, Mrs. Mudlaw, just this once. The colo- nel is so anxious to secure Darling, and he will be so angry if we offend them in any way," " But he needent know it, need he ?" "He certainly will find it out by some means. I know it is real vexatious, to you, and I Tvould n't ask it; if election was over ; and now 't is very important — it may save us all trouble. The colonel is so de- cided you know.'' These last words of Mrs; Philpot had an effect ' upon Mudlaw which no wish or entreaty of that lady would have ever produced, for they suggested to her selfish mind the possibility of a dismissal from her snug birth at Colonel P.'s, where she carried it with a high hand; so she gave in. " Well, jest to please you and the cumel, I 'II do it ; but I wish 'lection was over." Mrs. Philpot returned to the iiursery, and Mrs. Mudlaw took off her apron, changed her cap for one trimmed with pink ribbons and blue roses, gave nu- 372 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. merous orders to Peggy, and followed. She was a sliort, fat woman, with a broad red face— such a per- son as a stranger would call the very personification . of good nature ; though I have never found fat people to be any more amiable than lean ones. Ctertainly, Mrs. Mudlaw was not a very sweet tempered womati. On this occasion, she felt rather more cross than usual, forced, as she was, to give one of her recipes to a no- ■Ifody. She, however, knew the necessity of assuming a pleasant demeanor at that time, and accordingly en- tered the nursery with an encouraging grin on her blazing countenance. Mrs. Philpot, fea,ring lest her cook's familiarity might belittle her mistress in the eyes of Mrs. Darling, and again asking to be excused for a short time, went into the library, a nondescript appartment, dignified by that name, which communi- cated with the nursery. The moment she left her seat, a large rocking-chair, Mudlaw dumped herself down it, exclaiming — , " Miss Philpot says you want to get my recipe for potater puddin' ?" " Yes," replied Mrs. Darling. " I would be obliged to you for the directions." And she took out of her pocket a pencil and paper to write it down. £ "Well, 'tis an excellent puddin'," said Mudlaw, complacently ; "for my part, I like it about as Well as any puddin' I make, and that 's sayia' a good deal, 1 oan tell you, for I understand makin' a great variety. EECIPE FOR POTATO PUDDING. 373' 'T ain't so awful rich as some; to be sure. Now, there 's the Cardinelle puddin', and the Washington puddin', and the Lay Fayette puddin', and the — " "Yes. Mr. Darling liked it very much — ^how do you make it ?" " Wal, I peel mypotaters and bile 'em in fair water. I always let the water bile before I put 'em in. Some folks let their potaters lie and sog in the water ever so long, before it biles ; but I think it spiles 'em. I air ways make it a pint to. have the water bile — " " How many potatoes ?" "Wal, I always take about as many .potaters as I think I shall want. I 'm generally governed by the size o' the puddin' I want to make. ' If it 's a large puddin', why I take quite a number, but if it 's a small one, why, then I don't take as many. As quick as they 're done, I take 'em up and mash 'em as fine as I can get 'em. I 'm always very partic'lar about that — some folks ain't ; they '11 let their potaters be full- o' lumps, /never do ; if there 's any thing I hate, it 's lumps in potaters. I woritt have 'em. Whether I 'm mashin' potaters for puddin's or for vegetable use, I mash it tUl there ain't the size of a lump in it. If I k can't git it fine without sifting, why I sift it. Once in a while, when I 'm otherways engaged, I set the girl to mashin' on 't. Wal, she '11 give it three or four jams, and come along, ' Miss Mudlaw, is the potater fine enough?' Jubiter Eammin! that's the time I 374 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. come as near gittin' mad as 1 ever allow myself to come, for I make it a pint never to have lumps — " " Yes, I know it is very important. What next?" " Wal, then I put in my butter ; in winter time I melt it a little, not enough to make it ily, but jest so 's. to soften it." " How much butter does it require ?" " Wal I always take butter accordin' to the size of the puddin' ; a large puddin' needs a good sized lump o' butter, but not too much. And I 'm always partic'- lar to have my butter fresh and sweet, Some folks think it 's no matter what sort o' butter they use for cookin', but I don't. Of all things, I do despise strong frowy, rancid butter. For pity's sake have your but- ter fresh." " How much butter did you say?" " Wal, that depends, as I said before, on what sized puddin' you want to make. And another thing that regulates the quality of butter I use is the 'mount o' cream I take. I always put in more of less cream ; when I have abundance o' cream, I put in considerable and when it 's scarce, why, I use more butter than I otherways should. But you must be partic'lar not to get in too much cream. There 's a great deal in hav-| in' jest the right quantity ; and so 'tis with all the in- grejiences. There ain't a better puddin' in the world than a potato puddin', when it 's made right, but 't ain 't every body that makes 'em right. I remember when EEOIPE, FOB P0a?ATO PUDDING, 875 I lived in Tuckertown, I was' a visitin' to Squire Hum- prey's one time — I went ia tHe first company in Tuck- ertown^— dear me I this is . a changeable world. Wal, they had what they Galled a potato puddin' for dinner, Good land ! Of all the puddins ! I 'ye often oocur- ed to that puddin' since, and wondered what the Squire's wife was a thinkin' of when she made it. I wa 'n't obleeged to do no such things in them days, and dident know how to do any thing as well as I do now. Necessity 's the mother of invention. Experi- ence is the best teacher, after all — " " i)o you sweeten it ?" "Oh, yes, to be sure it needs sugar, the best o' sugar, too ; not this wet, soggy, brown sugar. Some folks never think o' usin' good sugar to cook with, but for my part I won't have no other." " How much sugar do you take ?" " Wal, that depends altogether on whether you cal- culate to have sass for it — some like sass, you know, and then some agin don't. So, when I calculate for- sass, I don't take so much sugar ; and when I don 't calculate for sass, I make it sweet enough to eat with- ,out sass. Poor Mr. M,udlaw was a great haiwi for puddin'sass. I always made it for him — good, ricb sass too. I could afford to have things rich before he was unfortinate in bizness." (Mudlaw went to State's prison for horse-stealing.) " I like sass myself, too ; and tlie cuxnel and the children are all great sass 376 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. hands ; and so I generally calculate for sass, though Miss Philpot prefers the puddin' without sass, and per- haps you ^d prefer it without. If so you must put in sugar accordingly. I always make it a pint to have 'em sweet enough when they 're to be eat without sass." "And don't you use eggs?" "Certainly, eggs is one o' the principal ingreji- ences." " How many does it require ?" ""Wal, when eggs is plenty^ I always use plenl^^; and when they 're scarce, why I can do with less, though I'd ruther have enough; and be sure and beat 'em well. It does distress me, the way some folks beat eggs. I always want to have 'em thoroughly beat for every tiling I use 'em in. It tries my patience most awfully to have any body round me that won't beat eggs enough. A spell ago we had a darkey to help in the kitchen. One day I was a makin' sponge ' cake, and havin' occasion to go up stairs after some- thing, I sot her to beatin' the eggs. Wal, what do you think the critter done ? Why, she whisked 'em roucd a few times, and turned 'em right onto the other ingrejiences that I 'd got weighed out. When I come back and saw what she 'd done, my gracious ! I came as nigh to losin' my temper as I ever allow my- self to come. 'T was awful provokin'! I always want the kitchen help to do things as I want to have EECIPE FOE POTATO PUDDING. 377 'em done. But I never saw a darkey yet that ever done any thing right, They 're a lazy slaughterin' set. To think o' her spilin' that cake so, when I 'd told her over and over agin that I always made it a pint to have my eggs thoroughly beat !" " Yes, it was too bad. Do you use fruit in the pud- ding?" "Wal, that's jest as you please. You'd better be- governed by your own judgment as to that. Some like currants and some like raisins, and then agin some don't like nary one. If you use raisins, for pity's sake pick out the stuns. It 's awful to have a body's teeth come grindin' onto a raisin stun. I 'd rather have my ears boxt any time." " How many raisins must I take ?'! "Wal not too many — ^it 's apt to m^ke the puddin' heavy, you know ; and when it 's heavy it ain't so light and good. I 'm a great hand — " ■" Yes, what do'you use for flavoring ?" " There agin you '11 have to exercise your own judgment. Some likes one thing, and some another, you know. If you go the whole figger on temperance, w%y some other kind o' flavyrin' '11 do as well as wine or brandy, I s'pose. But whatever you make up your mind to use, be partic'lar to gi.t in a sufficiency, or else your puddin' '11 be flat. I always make it a pint--" " How long must it bake ?" 378 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. " There 's the great thing after all. The bakin's lie main pint. A potatra: puddin', of all puddins, has got to be bated jest right. For if it bakes a leetle too much, it 's apt to dry it up ; and 'then agin if it don't bake quite enough, it's sure to taste potatery — and that spiles it, you know." " How long should you think ?" " Wal, that depends a good deal on the heat o' your oven. If you have a very hot oven, '-t won't do to leave it in too long ; and if your oven aiu't so very hot, why, you 'U be necessiated to leave it in longer." " Well, how can I tell any thing about, it?" " "Well, I always let them bake till I think they 're done^that 's the safest way. I make it a pint to have 'em baked exactly right. It 's very important in all kinds o' baMn.' — cake, pies, bread, puddins, and every thing— to have'em baked precisely long enough and jest right. Some folks don't seem to have no sys- tem at all about their bakin'. One time they '11 burn their bread to a crisp, and then agin it 'H be so slack 't ain't fit to eat. Nothin' hurts my feelins so much as to see things overdone or slack-baked. Here only t'other day, Lorry, the girl that Miss Philpot dis- missed yesterday, come within an ace o' letting my bread burn up. My back was turned for a minnit, and what should she do but go to stuffin' wood into the stove' at the awfullest rate? If I hadent a found it out jest when I did, my bread would a ben spilt as EEOIPB FOB POTATO PUDDING. 879 sure as I 'm a live woman. JuMter Eammin ! I was about as mucli decomposed as I ever allow myself ta git ! I told Miss Philpot I wouldent stan' it no longer ■ — one of us must quit — either Lorry or me must walk," - " So you Ve no rule about baking tMs pudding 2," " No rule !"■ said- Mudlaw, with a look of intense surprise. "Yes," said Mrs. Darling, '^you seem to have no rule for any thing about it." " No rule 1" screamed -the indignant cook, starting up, while her red face grew ten times redder, and her little black eyes snapped with rage.- " No rules !" and she planted herself in front of Mrs. Darling, erecting her fleshy figure to its full hight. of majestic dumpi- ness, and extending the forefinger of her right hand till it reached an alarming propinquity to that lady's nose. " No rules ! do you tell me I 've no rules ! Me ! that 's cooked in the first families for fifteen years, and always gi'n satisfaction, to be told by such as you that I hain't no rules 1" Thus far had Mudlaw proceeded, and I know not to what length she would have " allowed herself" to go, had not the sudden entrance of Colonel Philpot interrupted her. He being a person of whom she stood somewhat in awe, particularly "jest at this time," she broke off in the midst of her tirade, and, casting a look of ineffable disgust at Mrs. Darling, retreated to 380 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. ■» her own dominions to vent her fury upon poor Peggy, who had done every thing wrong during her ab- sence. While Colonel Philpot was expressing his extreme satisfaction at seeing Mrs. Darling, Mrs. Philpot emerged from the library, where she had been shak- ing in her shoes during . the iaterview between that lady and Mudlaw. ■" Matilda, my dear," said the colonel, " this is quite an unexpected pleasure, for really Mrs. Darling, we began to fear that you did not intend to cultivate us." "I did not come for that purpose," replied Mrs. Dar- ling, who, now that she saw through Colonel Philpot, despised him thoroughly, and was not afraid to let him know it, notwithstanding he belonged to the aris- tocracy of our town. "I came on an errand, and your copk has got very angry, with me for some reason, I scarcely know what." "Poor Mudlaw," said Mrs. Philpot, anxious to screen her main stay from the colonel's displeasure, yet feeling the necessity of some apology to Mrs. Dar- ling. "Poor Mudlaw ! I don't think she intended to be rude." " What ! has the cook been rude to Mrs. Darling?" exclaimed Colonel Philpot. "Not rude, exactly, dear; but you know she is so sensitive about every thLag connected with her depart- EEGIPE FOE I'OTATO PUDDING. 381 ment, and she fancied that Mrs. Darling called her skill into quest%)ii, and became somewhat excited.". " Quite excited, I should call it," said Mrs. D. with a smile. " And she has dared to treat Mrs. Darling rudely," said Colonel P., apparently much agitated. ".Shame- ful ! disgraceful ! the wretch shall suffer- for it ! To think that a -lady like Mrs. Darling should be insulted by a cook ! in my house, too !" " And just before efecfebn, too; it is a pity!" said Mrs. Darling quietly, as she rose, and wishing them good-morning, departed, leaving ColonelPhilpot lost in astonishment. Her last remark rendered necessary some explanation from Mrs. P. She was compelled to repeat some part of the' conversation that had taken place in the kitchen, which, though softened down as much as possible, was sufficient to rouse the colonel's indignation to the highest pitch, for he saw at once that Darling was lost. He gave his silly wife a hearty blowing up, but upon Mudlaw, his wrath fell heaviest. No entreaties of her mistress could save her ; she was commanded to quit the premises, to troo'p forthvnth " for being rude to visitors." But Mudlaw knew well enough the real reason of her- dismissal, and when she went forth in rage and sorrow, she found some consolation in spreading it far and wide, thereby mak- ing Colonel Philpot very ridiculous in the eyes of the community. 382 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. " Well, I 'm surprised, Hester," said Jolm Darling, after his wife had given him. a circumstantial account of her visit. " And I 'm right sorry, too, to have my good opinion of a man knocked in the head so, for I did think well of Col. Philpot. I really believed we could n't send a better man to Congress. But it won't do. A man that can stoop to such conduct is n't fit to go there. I can't vote for him, a,nd my influence, what little I have, inust go against him. If he' gets there, it must be without any help from John Dar- ling." Colonel Philpot did not go to Congress, and what made his defeat the more aggravating was the fact4;hat his opponent "was elected by the small majority of three votes. And so Colonel Philpot lost his elec- tion; and Mrs. Philpot lost her cook; and Mr. Darling lost his esteem for Colonel Philpot, and all through the over-politeness of the latter. And was there nothing gained? Oh, yes; Mrs. Darling gained something. Not much information in regard to the potato pudding, certainly; but she gained some knowledge of the internal arrangements of Mrs. Philpot's household, which proved of great service to her, for she confesses to John that she was never so contented with her own home and her own husband as she has been since she made that memora- ble call at Colonel Philpot's. XXX. " r^ OOD morning, Miss Mary 1" " Good morning, Mrs. Shaw !" " I 'm well aware that I don't owe any call here, but I told Mr. Shaw that the morning was so fine, I 'd just step in and see whether you were all alire, for really it seems an age since I saw any o*f you — ^you Ve not been at- all neighborly of late." "I know it, Mrs. Shaw, but you must excuse us, for grandmother has been so feeble for some weeks past that we have not been able to leave — mother is with her now and desires to be excused." " Certainly ; she is very excusable. I was not aware that your grandmother was sick — I 'm excess- ively sorry to hear it — should assuredly have been round to see her before had I been aware of her ill- ness. I do think so much of your grandmother — ^she is certainly the sweetest old lady that I ever knew. I tell Mr. Shaw she reminds me so much of my own dear dead mother — ^has the same dignified manner and benevolent; countenance that she had. And her char- 884 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. acter is very much like my motlier's, too, always doing good among tlie poor and sick. I regret excessively that I was not aware of her illness — should certainly have been round, though my own health has been very precarious — ^in fact, it always is — ^I go out very little — ^none at all excepting among, my particular friends. I do hope your grandma '11 be spared — we could nH'^&Ti with her any way — ^there are so few like her on earth — and the poet says " Peaven is overflow- ing." ,, Ah ! I see you have Dickens' last here — I sup- pose it 's excessively interesting." " No — I think it 's hardly worth reading." " Indeed ! well, of course I shall not read it if you condemn it — ^you are such an excellent judge of hter- ature, and such a reader — ^your own productions, too, are exquisite — Mr. Shaw is perfectly charmed with them. - What a beauty your japonica is, I noticed it last evening in passing. Ah ! that reminds me they tell stories about you, Mary." " Indeed ! what do they say abouf me, pray ?" " O, they say you 're going to be married." " The deuce I am ! To whom are they going to marry me ?" "My stars 1 I protest you counterfeit astonishment to perfection. Of course the favored one is George Carter — and I assure you, Mary, you 're quite the envy of all the girls for snapping him up so soon after his return from Europe." ); MORNING CALLS. 385 " You surprise me Mrs. Slia-w. I 've seen very lit' tie of George Carter since he came home." "Ah, do you think I shall beheve you when ap- pearances are so very strong against you ? Did n't I see somebody's eurly dog lying on somebody's piazza last evening?" "And seeing a puppy outside of the door, it was very natural ioxyouto infer that there was another one "0 Mary, what a creature you are! You have such a ready wit. ,Mr. Shaw says he never knew your equal in that respect — ^he does admire wit in a lady, excessively. But I '11 not detain you — give my love to your ma, and your grandma, too — and tell her how. deeply iaterested I feel in her — I do hope she '11 recover. And do you and your ma come round and see us as soon as you can. Serapheen and I think so much of seeing our friends — your ma and you particu- larly — and ' we 're so lonely siace Angeleen went to New York." " Have you heard from Angeleen lately ?" "Yes,- we received a letter, yesterday. She says, give my love to all the girls, but particularly to Mary Barber. Angel does think so much of you. (Miss Barbey bows.) She's enjoying herself excessively-^ sees a great deal of company. You know how it is in the city, Mary—you 've spent so much time there. 11 386 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS^ She says she dreads coming back to this dull place ex- cessively." " "Well then I hope she 'U snap up somebody in the city, and not be compelled to come back here." " What a quiz you are, Mary ! but I must go-^give my love to your ma, and do come round when you can. Good inoming." " Grobd morning, Mrs. Shaw." Her next call is at Dr. More's. " Good morning, Caroline. Is your ma at home ?" " She is. She 's engaged jest now in the kitchen, but she 'U be in shortly." " Now don't let me hinder you • if your engaged about any thing — just take me right ia where you 're at work." "Well, then, walk into^ the sitting-room, if you please — Charlotte and I are sewing there." " Good morning, Charlotte 1 Dress-making, eh ? Is that for you or Caroline ?" " For me — ^but Caroline has one Kke it. Do you think: it pretty ?" "I do so. Those large plaids are excessively be- coming to a tall slender person like you and Carohne — ^but Mary Barber looks wretchedly in them — she-'s so short and so thick. I was, just in there — she had on a plaid, the squares, without exaggeration, as large as my two hands— it was blue, too, and you know she is so dark." MOBNING CALLS. 387 " I stould think it -would be unbecoming to her — but Mary cares very little for dress, I think." "She does so — an unpardonable fault in a young lady, in my opinion. Mr. Shaw thinks a young lady should be always neatly and becom!ingly dressed. He was speaking of it the other day, and contrasting your two- girls with Mary Barber. 'But,' said he, ' Mary mightbe ever so well dressed and she would n't look any how with such a form as she has.' You were passing our house at the -time — ^said he, 'there's a couple of the finest forms in Greenville.' Mr. Shaw does admire a fine form in a lady excessively. But Mary 's so busy writing those nonsensical stories and stuff that she has no time to think of her personal ap- pearance. Did you ever read any thing so "flat? What a pity that she so mistakes her talent. Mr. Shaw laughs about it — ^he does dislike a blue stocking excessively. And, Oaroline, don't you think Mary is very unrefined in her conversation ?" " I think she 's rather abrupt, sometimes." " Abrupt ! my stars ! I tell Mr. Shaw that what she intends for wit, I call essential vulgarity ; and Mr. Shaw agrees with me — he does dishke such things in a young lady, excessively. I think she 's rather cen- sorious too — for instance she pronounced G-eorge Car- ter a puppy — at which I confess I am astonished." " Well, I 'm astonished too-^for I think George Car- ter a finp fellow," 388 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPBES. "He is so, Charlotte. Seraplieen thinks Hm deci- dedly elegant ; and you know she 's competent to give an opinion--— having passed' two winters in New York, where she saw a great deal of gentlemen's society. I was excessively, sorry, to hear Mary speak so ; but I hope you won't repeat it ; at least don't mention it as coming jErom me. I merely alluded to it because I felt so indignant at the remark." " Grood morning, Mrs. Shaw." " Good morning, Mrs. More ; how 's your health ?" " Very good, indeed — are you well, Mrs. Shaw ?" " Oh, no, Mrs. More. I 'm miserable ; indeed I ought to be at home and in bed now ; but I told Mr. Shaw that the morning was so fine, I must come round to see you. I don't pretend to call except upon my particular friends. Mr. Shaw often tells me I make a complete hermit of myself — I hope I 'm not hindering you this morning, Mrs. More." " Oh, not at all — you must excuse me for not com- ing in sooner. I was just baking and couldn't well leave my bread." " Just so — ^you 're very excusable — ^you do your own work, Mrs. More, I believe." " Yes, our family is small — only Dr. More and us three — ^and since the girls were old enough to help me, I 've preferred doing without servants." " "Well now — what a grand thing that is ! I teU Mr. Shaw I should be so delighted if I could get along MOENING CALLS. 389 ■without servants— they are such a plague ! but situated as we are, it would be utterly impossible. The girls are very industrious — I Ve instructed them in that re- spect — ^but they are away so much; our relatives in the city insist upon having one of them there most of the time 5 and my health is so precarious that 1 can do very little. And then, when the girls are at home, they are necessarily so much occupied with their com- pany and music. Your daughters are not musicians, I believe, Mrs. More?" "No — they have never shown any fondness for music — at least no decided talent for it ; and their father thought it would be a useless expense to have them take lessons." " It would so, Mrs. More — Mr. Shaw and myself would never have thought of such a thing as having Angeleeh and Serapheen learn music, if they had not shown such an extraordinary talent for it, from their very infancy. It 's utter nonsense for children to Study any thing they have n't a taste for, especially music. I think you acted very judiciously." "Have you heard from Angeleen, lately?" " Yes, Caroline — I had a letter from her yesterday. She is passing her time very pleasantly at her uncle's — ^but she says she does want to see her pa and ma and sis, and you and Charlotte very much indeed. She says, ' give my love to all the girls, but particularly to Caroline and Charlotte More.' ^ Angel does think so 390 WIDOW BBDOTT PAPEES. much of lier ffiendS'^-especially your two girls. See- ing you making a sleeve, Charlotte, reminds me that she speaks of the fashions. She says they 're wearing that kind of sleeve now very much. "Who cuts your dresses, Lotty? they always fit beautifully." "We cut them -ourselves." " My stars ! you amaze me I why Mrs. More, I won- der if there 's any- thing under the sun that your girls canH do." " Yes — ^they can't play on the piano. I had them learn to cut and fit of Miss Curtis, before she went away— and ever since they have made all our dresses." " My stars ! If that is n't a grand idea. You are such a capital manager, Mrs. More. Mr. Shaw often remarks that Dr. More's family is a model for its ad- mirable management — and it is so. It seems to me I should be the happiest woman in the world if I could be independent of hired girls and mantua-makers. . I tell Mr. Shaw they 're the plague of my life. Oh, if my girls could make their own dresses and have them fit as exquisitely as Carry's and Lotty's do, I should be se rejoiced. How dreadfully Mary Barber's dresses hang on her. By the way, Mrs. More, did you know that old Mrs. Barber is quite sick?" ■ " Oh, yes, she 's been sick some time." "Is Dr. More her physician?" " No — they employ Dr. Smith, I beheve." " My stars ! you amaze me, Mrs. More I that miser- MOENINa CALLS. 391 able homoepatBist ! Astonishing tliat people will^be sucli fools ! to think of their trusting her in his hands, when there 's such a sHUfal physician as Dr. More close by ; why I have n't the least confidence in that kind of practice-^and Dr. More enjoys such a reputa- tion too I Mr. Shaw says that if Dr. Billings had n't been our family physician before Dr. More came here, he should certainly have employed Dr. More. How- ever, Mrs. More, between you and me, I presume Dr. More has escaped an undesirable job. I should think old Mrs. Barber would be an excessively disagreeable patient. She is so very repulsive when she 's well. Don't you think so ?" " Well, I don't know ; she 's rather reserved — though I like her." " Eeserved I my stars ! she 's as cold as an icicle — I don't see how you can like her, especially when she has treated Dr. More so shabbily." ' '■'\did feel rather hurt that they discharged Dr. More ; but they were urged by some of their friends to try the homoeopathic system. It 's not from any want of confidence in Dr. More — they are very friend- ly to him — ^and I dare say they 'If employ him again, at some future time, if they 're not satisfied wij;h Dr. Smith's practice." " Well, I hope that Dr. More will decline attending them ; he certainly ought to do so. I went in there this morning from a sense of duty. I never caU upon 392 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS. any but my particular friends, except in case of sick- ness ; and the Barbers are such a queer family. I never know what to make of them. But I must go ; I always stay so long when I come here. I tell Mr. Shaw I never know when to get away from Dr. More's. I do think so much of your family. Now do come round Mrs. More ; you never come — and the girls are not sociable at aU ; do come. Seraph and I are so lonely, etc. etc." — (Imagine the rest). She next proceeds to Dr. Smith's, " Good morning, Mrs. Smith." " Good morning, Mrs* Shaw ; you look fal^igued ; take the rocking-chair — do." " Thank you, Mrs. Smith, I will, for I am quite weary ; have made several calls this morning ; calls are an awful bore to me in my state of health, except when I go to see my particular friends." "Sure — ^is your health not good, Mrs. Shaw?" "Jt 's miserable, Mrs. Smith — miserable. I really ought to be at home and in bed now, but I told Mr. Shaw that the morning was so fine, I must get round and see Mrs. Smith. I 've so long been wishing to come. Mr. Shaw thought I was rather imprudent to walk so far ; but I told him I would stop and rest several times on the way. I would n't attempt to take . such a walk except to see a very -particukLr friend, which I hope I may call you, Mrs. Smith." MOEKING CALLS. 393 " Oertainlj, Mrs. Shaw — ^you do me much honor. I hope you will* not be the worse for the exertion. Have you been long an invalid ?" "I have so; my health has been very precarious for some years. 0, Mrs. Smith, you can not imagine how excessively tired I 've become of taking such quantities of medicine as the old-fashioned doctors give. I tell Mr. Shaw the very sight of it disgusts me." "Sure." " I 've heard so much of Dr. Smith's astonishing success in his practice, that I should n't hesitate a mo- ment to place myself under his care, and go through a course of homcepathic treatment/ if it were not for fear of offending old Dr. Billings, who has always been our family physician; and we are fearful he might feel hurt, you know." " Sure — but I do not think he would be. Dr. Smith has one of Dr. Mare's patients, Mrs. Barber, under his care; and Dr. More doesn't appear to be at all dis- pleased about it." " I think you 're mistaken, Mrs. Smith, for I 've heard Mrs. "More speak of it with considerable bitter- ness. She said her feelings were very much hurt at the Barbers' discharging her husband. Though she remarked that she felt confident they would become dissatisfied with Dr. Smith, and send for Dr. More again." "Well, I declare I I'll tell the doctor of that— 11* 394 'WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES. it 's the first time I Ve heard of any one's speaMag -against my Irasband's practice." " You know, Mrs. Smith, Dr. llore is a very penu- rious man, and of course would not lite to hare a rich patient slip through his fingers," " Is he a close man ? I did n't know it before." " He is so — are you acquainted with the family ?" " No — Mrs. More has never called on me." " Well, that 's not strange — ^it costs something you know to keep up an acquaintance." " I thought they were quite a genteel family." " Genteel ! — my stars I they are excessively plain." " I 'm sure the daughters dress in good style." " I 'm aware of that, Mrs. Smith ; but they pinch and save in every other way." " Sure 1 — ^how you talk I" " They keep no servants at all, though Dr. More is abundantly able ; there are few richer men in Green- ville. Mrs. More works Kke a slave — and so do the girls." " Sure ! — ^how you talk, Mrs. Shaw I" " I tell Mr. Shaw I do really pity those poor girls ; notwithstanding the doctors' ample means, he has never given them the advantage of a genteel educa- tion." " Sure 1 You don't say so, Mrs. Shaw !" "Just so, Mrs. Smith — ^they've not even learnt music!" ' MOENING CALLS. 39S " Mercy on lis !" " But they 've taken lessons in , wliat do you think? — just guess, Mrs. Smith." " Well, I 'm sure I can't tell — ^is it drawing?" "Drawing! My stars! You'd never guess till your dying day — dress-making ! !" " Mercy on us! he, he, he, he, he! how Ann Eliza would laugh to hear that. It 's the last thing I ever should have thought of." " Why, Mr. Shaw sa;ys he'd do anything in the world before he 'd let me and the girls work as they do. He says if it took his last sixpence. Angel and Seraph should learn music." " Sure — I should n't think Ann Bhza fit for genteel- society, unless she could play on the pianO' — how I should feel if her pa should want her to make her own dresses." " You would so, Mrs. Smith — it 's the only aceom- plishment that the More's possess ; and no wonder they carry it to sa.ch. perfection, and pinch up their waists to the size of a chair-post. Did you ever see such sights as their waists ?" " They are very small, indeed." " They look perfectly ridiculous — ^Mr. Shaw can't bear such forms ; he says a little waist is a deformity rather than a beauty." "I think so to. I've never let Ann BUza lace tight." 896 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEES, ''Well, you have acted Tcry judiciously, Mrs. Smith ; how is Ann Eliza ?" " She 's quite well, thank you. She 's gone out this morning to make calls." " Well, I hope she '11 go round to our house. Seraph "would be so delighted to see her — Ann Eliza 's a lovely girl. I 'm told she was a great belle at Coon- viUe." " Well, it 's not for me to say as to that." " Of course — ^but you can't help being proud of her, Mrs. Smith. How sweetly she looked last Sabbath day ! Mr. Shaw remarked it. He admires her style of beauty excessively. I observed she had on one of the new-fashioned capes-. Angeleen writes me that they 're very much worn by the first in New York." " Yes — ^Ann Eliza heard they were very fashion- able among genteel people. Have you heard from Angeleen, lately?" ' " Eeceived a letter yesterday — ^she 's very happy ; says she 's engaged in one constant round of parties and swearees — -just what Angel likes, you know: she 's so fond of society. She says, give my love to all the girls, but particularly to Ann BHza Smith. She does love Ann Eliza. Bat I must go." "Don't Ije in haste, Mrs. Shaw." " O, I 've staid a long time. I always do stay for- ever when I come here. Now do come round Mrs. Smith — ^run in at any time — don't be ceremonious. MOENIIirG CALLS. 897 I never use any ceremony with my particular friends. Tell Ann Eliza to come round, etc. etc." Her next call is at Mr. Price's, tlie minister. " How do you do, Mrs. Price ?" " Quite well, thank you-^howare you, Mrs. Shaw?" " Poorly, Mrs. Price — quite poorly." " I 'm very §orry to hear it." " Eeally, Mrs. Price, I must take you to task for not coming round to see me this long time. You 've not done your duty as a minister's wife." " I 've not been able to go, Mrs. Shaw. Gustus has been sick with the measels, and I 've not been out at all for three weeks." " My stars ! how you shock me, Mrs. Price. I have n't heard a word of Augustus being sick, or I shoT^ld certainly have been round; I always go to seethe sick if I am able to crawl — ^but my health is so preca- rious that I very seldom get out. I told Mr. Shaw the morning was so fine I must get out and see my minis- ter's folks, though it 's a very long walk for me. How is dear little Gusty now ?" "Much better — so as to be able to go to school to- day." " I 'm very glad — very indeed. Augustus is such a noble boy — Mr. Shaw says he is without exception the finest . child he ever saw. What a mercy that the Lord saw fit to spare him 1 " It was, indeed — I feel to be thankful." WIDOW BEDOTT PAPEKS. " Is Mr. Price at home ?" "He is. I'll speak to Hm." " Now don't disturb him, Mrs. Price, if he 's en- gaged ; but his conversation is so instructive I -would like excessively to see him." "Ah, Mr. Price, I hope you 're well — quite well?" " Perfectly so, Sister Shaw. I trust you are in the enjoyment of more comfortable corporeal health than has recently fallen to your lot?" " I regret that I am not, Mr. Price — ^my health is very delicate — I assure yon, it was a great exertion for me to walk so far this morning. I told Mr. Shaw I would n't have thought of going such a distance to see any one but you and Mrs. Price." . " Y-e-s — ^I assure you. Sister Shaw, I appreciate the effort, and am truly gratified to see you." " Thank you, Mr. Price, it does me so much good to talk with you occasionally." ' "Y-e-s — well, how do youf-e-e-1 now, Sister Shaw, in regard to your mind ?" " 0, Mr. Price, I can not say that I always feel as I ought tO' — owing to the precarious state of my health, my feelings are variable." " Y-e-s — quite natural they should be so." " Sometimes I feel a degree of coldness and apathy, and am almost tempted to give up my hope ; and again I experience great comfort, and my evidences of ac- ceptance are very strong." MORNING CALLS. "Y-e-s — as a general thing, you enjoy religion, I suppose?" " I do so — 0, Mr. Price, -what should I dp without religion ? I tell Mr. Shaw, that with my miserable health, religion is my only support." "Y-e-s— how does Mr. Shaw feel?" " 0, Mr. Price, I regret to say, that he does not feel his lost and ruined condition as sensibly as I could wish. ! O ! if that man onh/ had saving faith— and if Serapheen was only a Christian — ^my happiness would be complete!" " Y-e-s-^I trust tha,t you wrestle for them, without ceasing at the throne of grace?" " I do so, Mr. Price — I do so." " Y-e-s — and do you feel, that in case the Lord should see fit to disregard your petitions, and consign them to everlasting misery, you could acquiesce in his decrees, and rejoice in their destruction ?" " I feel that I could without a murmur." " Y-e-s — I am very happy. Sister Shaw, to find' you in such a desirable state of miad." " But, Mr. Price, 1 feel at times excessively exer- cised, in view of the low state of. religion in Grreen- ville, now." "Y-e-s — ^it is truly melancholy, the ways of Zion languish." " They do so — ^it 's time we had another protracted meeting. I don't know when I 've had my feelings so 400 WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS, tried as they have been tMs morning, to see the cold- ness and woridliness of some of our people. On my way herg, I stopped to rest at several places — and 0, my dear Mr. Price I it was so distressing to witness the unconcern that was manifiBSted." " Y-e-s." " I called at Mrs. Barber's — ^they 're very irreligious people you know." " Y-e-s — no experimental acquaintance with saving faith." "N"one whatever. The old lady's quite sick — on her death-bed, perhaps — I did n't see her — ^they did n't ask me to go in — ^you know they 're very peculiar people — so distant. I did want to see her, and find out how ^Qfelt — and whether she expected to get to heaven on good works now. You know you used to think she did." " Y-e-s — ^I had reason to suppose so, from her con- duct." " It would be dreadful, if the old lady should die in such a state of mind — ^would n't it, Mr. Price ?" "Y-e-s— ' Behold tlie aged sinner goes, Laden -witli gtult and heavy woes, Down to the regions of the dead With endless corses