{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22320/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22320","id":"gutenberg_22320","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22320","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction","United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction","Women -- New England -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nOLDTOWN FIRESIDE STORIES.\n\nBy Harriet Beecher Stowe.\n\n\nBOSTON: JAMES R. OSGOOD & COMPANY\n\n\n1872.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Titlepage]\n\n[Illustration: Frontispiece]\n\n\n\nEntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871\n\nBy James R. Osgood & Co.\n\nIn the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.\n\n\nCONTENTS:\n\n     THE GHOST IN THE MILL\n\n     THE SULLIVAN LOOKING-GLASS.\n\n     THE MINISTER\u2019S HOUSEKEEPER.\n\n     THE WIDOW\u2019S BANDBOX.\n\n     CAPTAIN KIDD\u2019S MONEY.\n\n     \u201cMIS\u2019 ELDERKIN\u2019S PITCHER.\u201d\n\n     THE GHOST IN THE CAP\u2019N BROWNHOUSE.\n\n[Illustration: The Ghost in the Mill, page 001]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GHOST IN THE MILL\n\n\u201cCome, Sam, tell us a story,\u201d said I, as Harry and I crept to his knees,\nin the glow of the bright evening firelight; while Aunt Lois was\nbusily rattling the tea-things, and grandmamma, at the other end of the\nfireplace, was quietly setting the heel of a blue-mixed yarn stocking.\n\nIn those days we had no magazines and daily papers, each reeling off\na serial story. Once a week, \u201cThe Columbian Sentinel\u201d came from Boston\nwith its slender stock of news and editorial; but all the multiform\ndevices--pictorial, narrative, and poetical--which keep the mind of\nthe present generation ablaze with excitement, had not then even an\nexistence. There was no theatre, no opera; there were in Oldtown no\nparties or balls, except, perhaps, the annual election, or Thanksgiving\nfestival; and when winter came, and the sun went down at half-past four\no\u2019clock, and left the long, dark hours of evening to be provided\nfor, the necessity of amusement became urgent. Hence, in those days,\nchimney-corner story-telling became an art and an accomplishment.\nSociety then was full of traditions and narratives which had all the\nuncertain glow and shifting mystery of the firelit hearth upon them.\nThey were told to sympathetic audiences, by the rising and falling light\nof the solemn embers, with the hearth-crickets filling up every pause.\nThen the aged told their stories to the young,--tales of early life;\ntales of war and adventure, of forest-days, of Indian captivities\nand escapes, of bears and wild-cats and panthers, of rattlesnakes, of\nwitches and wizards, and strange and wonderful dreams and appearances\nand providences.\n\nIn those days of early Massachusetts, faith and credence were in the\nvery air. Two-thirds of New England was then dark, unbroken forests,\nthrough whose tangled paths the mysterious winter wind groaned and\nshrieked and howled with weird noises and unaccountable clamors. Along\nthe iron-bound shore, the stormful Atlantic raved and thundered, and\ndashed its moaning waters, as if to deaden and deafen any voice that\nmight tell of the settled life of the old civilized world, and shut us\nforever into the wilderness. A good story-teller, in those days, was\nalways sure of a warm seat at the hearthstone, and the delighted homage\nof children; and in all Oldtown there was no better story-teller than\nSam Lawson.\n\n\u201cDo, do, tell us a story,\u201d said Harry, pressing upon him, and opening\nvery wide blue eyes, in which undoubting faith shone as in a mirror;\n\u201cand let it be something strange, and different from common.\u201d\n\n\u201cWal, I know lots o\u2019 strange things,\u201d said Sam, looking mysteriously\ninto the fire. \u201cWhy, I know things, that ef I should tell,--why, people\nmight say they wa\u2019n\u2019t so; but then they _is_ so for all that.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, _do_, do, tell us!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I should scare ye to death, mebbe,\u201d said Sam doubtingly.\n\n\u201cOh, pooh! no, you wouldn\u2019t,\u201d we both burst out at once.\n\nBut Sam was possessed by a reticent spirit, and loved dearly to be wooed\nand importuned; and so he only took up the great kitchen-tongs, and\nsmote on the hickory forestick, when it flew apart in the middle, and\nscattered a shower of clear bright coals all over the hearth.\n\n\u201cMercy on us, Sam Lawson!\u201d said Aunt Lois in an indignant voice,\nspinning round from her dishwashing.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you worry a grain, Miss Lois,\u201d said Sam composedly. \u201cI see that\nare stick was e\u2019en a\u2019most in two, and I thought I\u2019d jest settle it. I\u2019ll\nsweep up the coals now,\u201d he added, vigorously applying a turkey-wing to\nthe purpose, as he knelt on the hearth, his spare, lean figure glowing\nin the blaze of the firelight, and getting quite flushed with exertion.\n\n\u201cThere, now!\u201d he said, when he had brushed over and under and between\nthe fire-irons, and pursued the retreating ashes so far into the red,\nfiery citadel, that his finger-ends were burning and tingling, \u201cthat\nare\u2019s done now as well as Hepsy herself could \u2019a\u2019 done it. I allers\nsweeps up the haarth: I think it\u2019s part o\u2019 the man\u2019s bisness when he\nmakes the fire. But Hepsy\u2019s so used to seein\u2019 me a-doin\u2019 on\u2019t, that she\ndon\u2019t see no kind o\u2019 merit in\u2019t. It\u2019s just as Parson Lothrop said in his\nsermon,--folks allers overlook their common marcies\u201d--\n\n\u201cBut come, Sam, that story,\u201d said Harry and I coaxingly, pressing upon\nhim, and pulling him down into his seat in the corner.\n\n\u201cLordy massy, these \u2019ere young uns!\u201d said Sam. \u201cThere\u2019s never no\ncontentin\u2019 on \u2019em: ye tell \u2019em one story, and they jest swallows it as\na dog does a gob o\u2019 meat; and they\u2019re all ready for another. What do ye\nwant to hear now?\u201d\n\nNow, the fact was, that Sam\u2019s stories had been told us so often, that\nthey were all arranged and ticketed in our minds. We knew every word in\nthem, and could set him right if he varied a hair from the usual track;\nand still the interest in them was unabated. Still we shivered, and\nclung to his knee, at the mysterious parts, and felt gentle, cold chills\nrun down our spines at appropriate places. We were always in the most\nreceptive and sympathetic condition. To-night, in particular, was one\nof those thundering stormy ones, when the winds appeared to be holding\na perfect mad carnival over my grandfather\u2019s house. They yelled and\nsquealed round the corners; they collected in troops, and came tumbling\nand roaring down chimney; they shook and tattled the buttery-door and\nthe sinkroom-door and the cellar-door and the chamber-door, with a\nconstant undertone of squeak and clatter, as if at every door were a\ncold, discontented spirit, tired of the chill outside, and longing for\nthe warmth and comfort within.\n\n\u201cWal, boys,\u201d said Sam confidentially, \u201cwhat\u2019ll ye have?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell us \u2019Come down, come down!\u2019\u201d we both shouted with one voice. This\nwas, in our mind, an \u201cA No. 1\u201d among Sam\u2019s stories.\n\n\u201cYe mus\u2019n\u2019t be frightened now,\u201d said Sam paternally.\n\n\u201cOh, no! we ar\u2019n\u2019t frightened ever,\u201d said we both in one breath.\n\n\u201cNot when ye go down the cellar arter cider?\u201d said Sam with severe\nscrutiny. \u201cEf ye should be down cellar, and the candle should go out,\nnow?\u201d\n\n\u201cI ain\u2019t,\u201d said I: \u201cI ain\u2019t afraid of any thing. I never knew what it\nwas to be afraid in my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cWal, then,\u201d said Sam, \u201cI\u2019ll tell ye. This \u2019ere\u2019s what Cap\u2019n Eb Sawin\ntold me when I was a boy about your bigness, I reckon.\n\n\u201cCap\u2019n Eb Sawin was a most respectable man. Your gran\u2019ther knew him very\nwell; and he was a deacon in the church in Dedham afore he died. He\nwas at Lexington when the fust gun was fired agin the British. He was a\ndreffle smart man, Cap\u2019n Eb was, and driv team a good many years atween\nhere and Boston. He married Lois Peabody, that was cousin to your\ngran\u2019ther then. Lois was a rael sensible woman; and I\u2019ve heard her tell\nthe story as he told her, and it was jest as he told it to me,--jest\nexactly; and I shall never forget it if I live to be nine hundred years\nold, like Mathuselah.\n\n\u201cYe see, along back in them times, there used to be a fellow come round\nthese \u2019ere parts, spring and fall, a-peddlin\u2019 goods, with his pack on\nhis back; and his name was Jehiel Lommedieu. Nobody rightly knew where\nhe come from. He wasn\u2019t much of a talker; but the women rather liked\nhim, and kind o\u2019 liked to have him round. Women will like some fellows,\nwhen men can\u2019t see no sort o\u2019 reason why they should; and they liked\nthis \u2019ere Lommedieu, though he was kind o\u2019 mournful and thin and\nshad-bellied, and hadn\u2019t nothin\u2019 to say for himself. But it got to be\nso, that the women would count and calculate so many weeks afore \u2019twas\ntime for Lommedieu to be along; and they\u2019d make up ginger-snaps and\npreserves and pies, and make him stay to tea at the houses, and feed\nhim up on the best there was: and the story went round, that he was\na-courtin\u2019 Phebe Ann Parker, or Phebe Ann was a-courtin\u2019 him,--folks\ndidn\u2019t rightly know which. Wal, all of a sudden, Lommedieu stopped\ncomin\u2019 round; and nobody knew why,--only jest he didn\u2019t come. It turned\nout that Phebe Ann Parker had got a letter from him, sayin\u2019 he\u2019d be\nalong afore Thanksgiving; but he didn\u2019t come, neither afore nor at\nThanksgiving time, nor arter, nor next spring: and finally the women\nthey gin up lookin\u2019 for him. Some said he was dead; some said he was\ngone to Canada; and some said he hed gone over to the Old Country.\n\n\u201cWal, as to Phebe Ann, she acted like a gal o\u2019 sense, and married \u2019Bijah\nMoss, and thought no more \u2019bout it. She took the right view on\u2019t, and\nsaid she was sartin that all things was ordered out for the best; and\nit was jest as well folks couldn\u2019t always have their own way. And so,\nin time, Lommedieu was gone out o\u2019 folks\u2019s minds, much as a last year\u2019s\napple-blossom.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s relly affectin\u2019 to think how little these \u2019ere folks is missed\nthat\u2019s so much sot by. There ain\u2019t nobody, ef they\u2019s ever so important,\nbut what the world gets to goin\u2019 on without \u2019em, pretty much as it did\nwith \u2019em, though there\u2019s some little flurry at fust. Wal, the last\nthing that was in anybody\u2019s mind was, that they ever should hear from\nLommedieu agin. But there ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 but what has its time o\u2019 turnin\u2019\nup; and it seems his turn was to come.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, \u2019twas the 19th o\u2019 March, when Cap\u2019n Eb Sawin started with\na team for Boston. That day, there come on about the biggest snow-storm\nthat there\u2019d been in them parts sence the oldest man could remember.\n\u2019Twas this \u2019ere fine, siftin\u2019 snow, that drives in your face like\nneedles, with a wind to cut your nose off: it made teamin\u2019 pretty\ntedious work. Cap\u2019n Eb was about the toughest man in them parts. He\u2019d\nspent days in the woods a-loggin\u2019, and he\u2019d been up to the deestrict o\u2019\nMaine a-lumberin\u2019, and was about up to any sort o\u2019 thing a man gen\u2019ally\ncould be up to; but these \u2019ere March winds sometimes does set on a\nfellow so, that neither natur\u2019 nor grace can stan\u2019 \u2019em. The cap\u2019n\nused to say he could stan\u2019 any wind that blew one way \u2019t time for\nfive minutes; but come to winds that blew all four p\u2019ints at the same\nminit,--why, they flustered him.\n\n\u201cWal, that was the sort o\u2019 weather it was all day: and by sundown Cap\u2019n\nEb he got clean bewildered, so that he lost his road; and, when night\ncame on, he didn\u2019t know nothin\u2019 where he was. Ye see the country was all\nunder drift, and the air so thick with snow, that he couldn\u2019t see a foot\nafore him; and the fact was, he got off the Boston road without knowin\u2019\nit, and came out at a pair o\u2019 bars nigh upon Sherburn, where old Cack\nSparrock\u2019s mill is.\n\n\u201cYour gran\u2019ther used to know old Cack, boys. He was a drefful drinkin\u2019\nold crittur, that lived there all alone in the woods by himself\na-tendin\u2019 saw and grist mill. He wasn\u2019t allers jest what he was then.\nTime was that Cack was a pretty consid\u2019ably likely young man, and his\nwife was a very respectable woman,--Deacon Amos Petengall\u2019s dater from\nSherburn.\n\n\u201cBut ye see, the year arter his wife died, Cack he gin up goin\u2019 to\nmeetin\u2019 Sundays, and, all the tithing-men and selectmen could do, they\ncouldn\u2019t get him out to meetin\u2019; and, when a man neglects means o\u2019 grace\nand sanctuary privileges, there ain\u2019t no sayin\u2019 _what_ he\u2019ll do next.\nWhy, boys, jist think on\u2019t!--an immortal crittur lyin\u2019 round loose\nall day Sunday, and not puttin\u2019 on so much as a clean shirt, when all\n\u2019spectable folks has on their best close, and is to meetin\u2019 worshippin\u2019\nthe Lord! What can you spect to come of it, when he lies idlin\u2019 round in\nhis old week-day close, fishing, or some sich, but what the Devil should\nbe arter him at last, as he was arter old Cack?\u201d\n\nHere Sam winked impressively to my grandfather in the opposite corner,\nto call his attention to the moral which he was interweaving with his\nnarrative.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, Cap\u2019n Eb he told me, that when he come to them bars and\nlooked up, and saw the dark a-comin\u2019 down, and the storm a-thickenin\u2019\nup, he felt that things was gettin\u2019 pretty consid\u2019able serious. There\nwas a dark piece o\u2019 woods on ahead of him inside the bars; and he knew,\ncome to get in there, the light would give out clean. So he jest thought\nhe\u2019d take the hoss out o\u2019 the team, and go ahead a little, and see where\nhe was. So he driv his oxen up ag\u2019in the fence, and took out the hoss,\nand got on him, and pushed along through the woods, not rightly knowin\u2019\nwhere he was goin\u2019.\n\n\u201cWal, afore long he see a light through the trees; and, sure enough, he\ncome out to Cack Sparrock\u2019s old mill.\n\n\u201cIt was a pretty consid\u2019able gloomy sort of a place, that are old mill\nwas. There was a great fall of water that come rushin\u2019 down the rocks,\nand fell in a deep pool; and it sounded sort o\u2019 wild and lonesome: but\nCap\u2019n Eb he knocked on the door with his whip-handle, and got in.\n\n\u201cThere, to be sure, sot old Cack beside a great blazin\u2019 fire, with his\nrum-jug at his elbow. He was a drefful fellow to drink, Cack was! For\nall that, there was some good in him, for he was pleasant-spoken and\n\u2019bliging; and he made the cap\u2019n welcome.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ye see, Cack,\u2019 said Cap\u2019n Eb, \u2018I \u2019m off my road, and got snowed up\ndown by your bars,\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Want ter know!\u2019 says Cack. \u2018Calculate you\u2019ll jest have to camp down\nhere till mornin\u2019,\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201cWal, so old Cack he got out his tin lantern, and went with Cap\u2019n Eb\nback to the bars to help him fetch along his critturs. He told him he\ncould put \u2019em under the mill-shed. So they got the critturs up to the\nshed, and got the cart under; and by that time the storm was awful.\n\n\u201cBut Cack he made a great roarin\u2019 fire, \u2019cause, ye see, Cack allers had\nslab-wood a plenty from his mill; and a roarin\u2019 fire is jest so much\ncompany. It sort o\u2019 keeps a fellow\u2019s spirits up, a good fire does. So\nCack he sot on his old teakettle, and made a swingeing lot o\u2019 toddy; and\nhe and Cap\u2019n Eb were havin\u2019 a tol\u2019able comfortable time there. Cack was\na pretty good hand to tell stories; and Cap\u2019n Eb warn\u2019t no way backward\nin that line, and kep\u2019 up his end pretty well: and pretty soon they was\na-roarin\u2019 and haw-hawin\u2019 inside about as loud as the storm outside; when\nall of a sudden, \u2019bout midnight, there come a loud rap on the door.\n\n\u201c\u2018Lordy massy! what\u2019s that?\u2019 says Cack. Folks is rather startled allers\nto be checked up sudden when they are a-carryin\u2019 on and laughin\u2019; and\nit was such an awful blowy night, it was a little scary to have a rap on\nthe door.\n\n\u201cWal, they waited a minit, and didn\u2019t hear nothin\u2019 but the wind\na-screechin\u2019 round the chimbley; and old Cack was jest goin\u2019 on with his\nstory, when the rap come ag\u2019in, harder\u2019n ever, as if it\u2019d shook the door\nopen.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says old Cack,\u2019 if \u2018tis the Devil, we\u2019d jest as good\u2019s open, and\nhave it out with him to onst,\u2019 says he; and so he got up and opened the\ndoor, and, sure enough, there was old Ketury there. Expect you\u2019ve\nheard your grandma tell about old Ketury. She used to come to meetin\u2019s\nsometimes, and her husband was one o\u2019 the prayin\u2019 Indians; but Ketury\nwas one of the rael wild sort, and you couldn\u2019t no more convert _her_\nthan you could convert a wild-cat or a painter [panther]. Lordy massy!\nKetury used to come to meetin\u2019, and sit there on them Indian benches;\nand when the second bell was a-tollin\u2019, and when Parson Lothrop and his\nwife was comin\u2019 up the broad aisle, and everybody in the house ris\u2019 up\nand stood, Ketury would sit there, and look at \u2019em out o\u2019 the corner\no\u2019 her eyes; and folks used to say she rattled them necklaces o\u2019\nrattlesnakes\u2019 tails and wild-cat teeth, and sich like heathen trumpery,\nand looked for all the world as if the spirit of the old Sarpent himself\nwas in her. I\u2019ve seen her sit and look at Lady Lothrop out o\u2019 the corner\no\u2019 her eyes; and her old brown baggy neck would kind o\u2019 twist and work;\nand her eyes they looked so, that \u2019twas enough to scare a body. For all\nthe world, she looked jest as if she was a-workin\u2019 up to spring at her.\nLady Lothrop was jest as kind to Ketury as she always was to every poor\ncrittur. She\u2019d bow and smile as gracious to her when meetin\u2019 was over,\nand she come down the aisle, passin\u2019 oot o, meetin\u2019; but Ketury never\ntook no notice. Ye see, Ketury\u2019s father was one o\u2019 them great powwows\ndown to Martha\u2019s Vineyard; and people used to say she was set apart,\nwhen she was a child, to the sarvice o\u2019 the Devil: any way, she never\ncould be made nothin\u2019 of in a Christian way. She come down to Parson\nLothrop\u2019s study once or twice to be catechised; but he couldn\u2019t get a\nword out o\u2019 her, and she kind o\u2019 seemed to sit scornful while he was\na-talkin\u2019. Folks said, if it was in old times, Ketury wouldn\u2019t have been\nallowed to go on so; but Parson Lothrop\u2019s so sort o\u2019 mild, he let her\ntake pretty much her own way. Everybody thought that Ketury was a witch:\nat least, she knew consid\u2019able more\u2019n she ought to know, and so they was\nkind o\u2019 \u2019fraid on her. Cap\u2019n Eb says he never see a fellow seem scareder\nthan Cack did when he see Ketury a-standin\u2019 there.\n\n\u201cWhy, ye see, boys, she was as withered and wrinkled and brown as an old\nfrosted punkin-vine; and her little snaky eyes sparkled and snapped,\nand it made yer head kind o\u2019 dizzy to look at \u2019em; and folks used to say\nthat anybody that Ketury got mad at was sure to get the worst of it fust\nor last. And so, no matter what day or hour Ketury had a mind to rap\nat anybody\u2019s door, folks gen\u2019lly thought it was best to let her in; but\nthen, they never thought her coming was for any good, for she was just\nlike the wind,--she came when the fit was on her, she staid jest so long\nas it pleased her, and went when she got ready, and not before. Ketury\nunderstood English, and could talk it well enough, but always seemed to\nscorn it, and was allers mo win\u2019 and mutterin\u2019 to herself in Indian,\nand winkin\u2019 and blinkin\u2019 as if she saw more folks round than you did,\nso that she wa\u2019n\u2019t no way pleasant company; and yet everybody took good\ncare to be polite to her. So old Cack asked her to come in, and didn\u2019t\nmake no question where she come from, or what she come on; but he knew\nit was twelve good miles from where she lived to his hut, and the snow\nwas drifted above her middle: and Cap\u2019n Eb declared that there wa\u2019n\u2019t no\ntrack, nor sign o\u2019 a track, of anybody\u2019s coming through that snow next\nmorning.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow did she get there, then?\u201d said I.\n\n\u201cDidn\u2019t ye never see brown leaves a-ridin\u2019 on the wind? Well, Cap\u2019n Eb\nhe says, \u2018she came on the wind,\u2019 and I\u2019m sure it was strong enough to\nfetch her. But Cack he got her down into the warm corner, and he poured\nher out a mug o\u2019 hot toddy, and give her: but ye see her bein\u2019 there\nsort o\u2019 stopped the conversation; for she sot there a-rockin\u2019 back\u2019ards\nand for\u2019ards, a-sippin her toddy, and a-mutterin\u2019, and lookin\u2019 up\nchimbley.\n\n\u201cCap\u2019n Eb says in all his born days he never hearn such screeches\nand yells as the wind give over that chimbley; and old Cack got so\nfrightened, you could fairly hear his teeth chatter.\n\n\u201cBut Cap\u2019n Eb he was a putty brave man, and he wa\u2019n\u2019t goin\u2019 to have\nconversation stopped by no woman, witch or no witch; and so, when he see\nher mutterin\u2019, and lookin\u2019 up chimbley, he spoke up, and says he, \u2018Well,\nKetury, what do you see?\u2019 says he. Come, out with it; don\u2019t keep it to\nyourself.\u2019 Ye see Cap\u2019n Eb was a hearty fellow, and then he was a leetle\nwarmed up with the toddy.\n\n\u201cThen he said he see an evil kind o\u2019 smile on Ketury\u2019s face, and she\nrattled her necklace o\u2019 bones and snakes\u2019 tails; and her eyes seemed to\nsnap; and she looked up the chimbley, and called out, \u2019Come down, come\ndown! let\u2019s see who ye be.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen there was a scratchin\u2019 and a rumblin\u2019 and a groan; and a pair\nof feet come down the chimbley, and stood right in the middle of\nthe haarth, the toes pi\u2019ntin\u2019 out\u2019rds, with shoes and silver buckles\na-shinin\u2019 in the firelight. Cap\u2019n Eb says he never come so near bein\u2019\nscared in his life; and, as to old Cack, he jest wilted right down in\nhis chair.\n\n\u201cThen old Ketury got up, and reached her stick up chimbley, and called\nout louder, \u2018Come down, come down! let\u2019s see who ye be.\u2019 And, sure\nenough, down came a pair o\u2019 legs, and j\u2019ined right on to the feet: good\nfair legs they was, with ribbed stockings and leather breeches.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, we\u2019re in for it now,\u2019 says Cap\u2019n Eb. \u2018Go it, Ketury, and let\u2019s\nhave the rest on him.\u2019\n\n\u201cKetury didn\u2019t seem to mind him: she stood there as stiff as a stake,\nand kep\u2019 callin\u2019 out, \u2018Come down, come down! let\u2019s see who ye be.\u2019 And\nthen come down the body of a man with a brown coat and yellow vest, and\nj\u2019ined right on to the legs; but there wa\u2019n\u2019t no arms to it. Then Ketury\nshook her stick up chimbley, and called, \u2018_Come down, come down!_\u2019 And\nthere came down a pair o\u2019 arms, and went on each side o\u2019 the body; and\nthere stood a man all finished, only there wa\u2019n\u2019t no head on him.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, Ketury,\u2019 says Cap\u2019n Eb, \u2018this \u2019ere\u2019s getting serious. I \u2019spec\u2019\nyou must finish him up, and let\u2019s see what he wants of us.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen Ketury called out once more, louder\u2019n ever, \u2018Come down, come down!\nlet\u2019s see who ye be.\u2019 And, sure enough, down comes a man\u2019s head, and\nsettled on the shoulders straight enough; and Cap\u2019n Eb, the minit he sot\neyes on him, knew he was Jehiel Lommedieu.\n\n[Illustration: Old Cack knew him too, Page 020]\n\n\u201cOld Cack knew him too; and he fell flat on his face, and prayed the\nLord to have mercy on his soul: but Cap\u2019n Eb he was for gettin\u2019 to the\nbottom of matters, and not have his scare for nothin\u2019; so he says to\nhim, \u2018What do you want, now you hev come?\u2019\n\n\u201cThe man he didn\u2019t speak; he only sort o\u2019 moaned, and p\u2019inted to the\nchimbley. He seemed to try to speak, but couldn\u2019t; for ye see it isn\u2019t\noften that his sort o\u2019 folks is permitted to speak: but just then there\ncame a screechin\u2019 blast o\u2019 wind, and blowed the door open, and blowed\nthe smoke and fire all out into the room, and there seemed to be a\nwhirlwind and darkness and moans and screeches; and, when it all cleared\nup, Ketury and the man was both gone, and only old Cack lay on the\nground, rolling and moaning as if he\u2019d die.\n\n\u201cWal, Cap\u2019n Eb he picked him up, and built up the fire, and sort o\u2019\ncomforted him up, \u2019cause the crittur was in distress o\u2019 mind that was\ndrefful. The awful Providence, ye see, had awakened him, and his sin had\nbeen set home to his soul; and he was under such conviction, that it all\nhad to come out,--how old Cack\u2019s father had murdered poor Lommedieu for\nhis money, and Cack had been privy to it, and helped his father build\nthe body up in that very chimbley; and he said that he hadn\u2019t had\nneither peace nor rest since then, and that was what had driv\u2019 him\naway from ordinances; for ye know sinnin\u2019 will always make a man leave\nprayin\u2019. Wal, Cack didn\u2019t live but a day or two. Cap\u2019n Eb he got the\nminister o\u2019 Sherburn and one o\u2019 the selectmen down to see him; and they\ntook his deposition. He seemed railly quite penitent; and Parson Carryl\nhe prayed with him, and was faithful in settin\u2019 home the providence to\nhis soul: and so, at the eleventh hour, poor old Cack might have got\nin; at least it looks a leetle like it. He was distressed to think he\ncouldn\u2019t live to be hung. He sort o\u2019 seemed to think, that if he was\nfairly tried, and hung, it would make it all square. He made Parson\nCarryl promise to have the old mill pulled down, and bury the body; and,\nafter he was dead, they did it.\n\n\u201cCap\u2019n Eb he was one of a party o\u2019 eight that pulled down the chimbley;\nand there, sure enough, was the skeleton of poor Lommedieu.\n\n\u201cSo there you see, boys, there can\u2019t be no iniquity so hid but what\nit\u2019ll come out. The Wild Indians of the forest, and the stormy winds and\ntempests, j\u2019ined together to bring out this \u2019ere.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor my part,\u201d said Aunt Lois sharply, \u201cI never believed that story.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Lois,\u201d said my grandmother, \u201cCap\u2019n Eb Sawin was a regular\nchurch-member, and a most respectable man.\u201d\n\n\u201cLaw, mother! I don\u2019t doubt he thought so. I suppose he and Cack got\ndrinking toddy together, till he got asleep, and dreamed it. I wouldn\u2019t\nbelieve such a thing if it did happen right before my face and eyes. I\nshould only think I was crazy, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, Lois, if I was you, I wouldn\u2019t talk so like a Sadducee,\u201d said\nmy grandmother. \u201cWhat would become of all the accounts in Dr. Cotton\nMather\u2019s \u2019Magnilly\u2019 if folks were like you?\u201d\n\n\u201cWal,\u201d said Sam Lawson, drooping contemplatively over the coals, and\ngazing into the fire, \u201cthere\u2019s a putty consid\u2019able sight o\u2019 things in\nthis world that\u2019s true; and then ag\u2019in there\u2019s a sight o\u2019 things that\nain\u2019t true. Now, my old gran\u2019ther used to say, \u2018Boys, says he, \u2018if ye\nwant to lead a pleasant and prosperous life, ye must contrive allers\nto keep jest the _happy medium_ between truth and falsehood.\u2019 Now, that\nare\u2019s my doctrine.\u201d\n\nAunt Lois knit severely.\n\n\u201cBoys,\u201d said Sam, \u201cdon\u2019t you want ter go down with me and get a mug o\u2019\ncider?\u201d\n\nOf course we did, and took down a basket to bring up some apples to\nroast.\n\n\u201cBoys,\u201d says Sam mysteriously, while he was drawing the cider, \u201cyou jest\nask your Aunt Lois to tell you what she knows \u2019bout Ruth Sullivan.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, what is it?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! you must ask her. These \u2019ere folks that\u2019s so kind o\u2019 toppin\u2019 about\nsperits and sich, come sift \u2019em down, you gen\u2019lly find they knows one\nstory that kind o\u2019 puzzles \u2019em. Now you mind, and jist ask your Aunt\nLois about Ruth Sullivan.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Tailpiece, Page 024]\n\n[Illustration: The Sullivan Looking-Glass, Page 025]\n\n\n\n\nTHE SULLIVAN LOOKING-GLASS.\n\n\u201cAunt Lois,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat was that story about Ruth Sullivan?\u201d\n\nAunt Lois\u2019s quick black eyes gave a surprised flash; and she and my\ngrandmother looked at each other a minute significantly. \u201cWho told you\nany thing about Ruth Sullivan,\u201d she said sharply.\n\n\u201cNobody. Somebody said _you_ knew something about her,\u201d said I.\n\nI was holding a skein of yarn for Aunt Lois; and she went on winding in\nsilence, putting the ball through loops and tangled places.\n\n\u201cLittle boys shouldn\u2019t ask questions,\u201d she concluded at last\nsententiously. \u201cLittle boys that ask too many questions get sent to\nbed.\u201d\n\nI knew that of old, and rather wondered at my own hardihood.\n\nAunt Lois wound on in silence; but, looking in her face, I could see\nplainly that I had started an exciting topic.\n\n\u201cI should think,\u201d pursued my grandmother in her corner, \u201cthat Ruth\u2019s\ncase might show you, Lois, that a good many things may happen,--more\nthan you believe.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, well, mother! Ruth\u2019s was a strange case; but I suppose there are\nways of accounting for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou believed Ruth, didn\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, certainly, I believed Ruth! Why shouldn\u2019t I? Ruth was one of my\nbest friends, and as true a girl as lives: there wasn\u2019t any nonsense\nabout Ruth. She was one of the sort,\u201d said Aunt Lois reflectively, \u201cthat\nI\u2019d as soon trust as myself: when she said a thing was so and so, I knew\nit was so.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, if you think Ruth\u2019s story was true,\u201d pursued my grandmother,\n\u201cwhat\u2019s the reason you are always cavilling at things just \u2019cause you\ncan\u2019t understand how they came to be so?\u201d\n\nAunt Lois set her lips firmly, and wound with grim resolve. She was the\nvery impersonation of that obstinate rationalism that grew up at the\nNew-England fireside, close alongside of the most undoubting faith in\nthe supernatural.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t believe such things,\u201d at last she snapped out, \u201cand I don\u2019t\ndisbelieve them. I just let \u2019em alone. What do I know about \u2019em? Ruth\ntells me a story; and I believe her. I know what she saw beforehand,\ncame true in a most remarkable way. Well, I\u2019m sure I\u2019ve no objection.\nOne thing may be true, or another, for all me; but, just because I\nbelieve Ruth Sullivan, I\u2019m not going to believe, right and left, all the\nstories in Cotton Mather, and all that anybody can hawk up to tell. Not\nI.\u201d\n\nThis whole conversation made me all the more curious to get at the story\nthus dimly indicated; and so we beset Sam for information.\n\n\u201cSo your Aunt Lois wouldn\u2019t tell ye nothin\u2019,\u201d said Sam. \u201cWanter know,\nneow! sho!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo: she said we must go to bed if we asked her.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat \u2019are\u2019s a way folks has; but, ye see, boys,\u201d said Sam, while a\ndroll confidential expression crossed the lack-lustre dolefulness of\nhis visage, \u201cye see, I put ye up to it, \u2019cause Miss Lois is so large and\ncommandin\u2019 in her ways, and so kind o\u2019 up and down in all her doin\u2019s,\nthat I like once and a while to sort o\u2019 gravel her; and I knowed enough\nto know that that \u2019are question would git her in a tight place.\n\n\u201cYe see, yer Aunt Lois was knowin\u2019 to all this \u2019ere about Ruth, so\nthere wer\u2019n\u2019t no gettin\u2019 away from it; and it\u2019s about as remarkable a\nprovidence as any o\u2019 them of Mister Cotton Marther\u2019s \u2018Magnilly.\u2019 So if\nyou\u2019ll come up in the barn-chamber this arternoon, where I\u2019ve got a lot\no\u2019 flax to hatchel out, I\u2019ll tell ye all about it.\u201d\n\nSo that afternoon beheld Sam arranged at full length on a pile of\ntop-tow in the barn-chamber, hatchelling by proxy by putting Harry and\nmyself to the service.\n\n\u201cWal, now, boys, it\u2019s kind o\u2019 refreshing to see how wal ye take hold,\u201d\n he observed. \u201cNothin\u2019 like bein\u2019 industrious while ye\u2019r young: gret\nsight better now than loafin off, down in them medders.\n\n     \u201c\u2018In books and work and useful play\n        Let my fust years be past:\n     So shall I give for every day\n        Some good account at last.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Sam, if we work for you, you must tell us that story about Ruth\nSullivan.\u201d\n\n\u201cLordy massy! yis,--course I will. I\u2019ve had the best kind o\u2019 chances\nof knowin\u2019 all about that \u2019are. Wal, you see there was old Gineral\nSullivan, he lived in state and grande\u2019r in the old Sullivan house out\nto Roxberry. I been to Roxberry, and seen that \u2019are house o\u2019 Gineral\nSullivan\u2019s. There was one time that I was a consid\u2019able spell lookin\u2019\nround in Roxberry, a kind o\u2019 seein\u2019 how things wuz there, and whether\nor no there mightn\u2019t be some sort o\u2019 providential openin\u2019 or suthin\u2019. I\nused to stay with Aunt Polly Ginger. She was sister to Mehitable Ginger,\nGineral Sullivan\u2019s housekeeper, and hed the in and out o\u2019 the Sullivan\nhouse, and kind o\u2019 kept the run o\u2019 how things went and came in it. Polly\nshe was a kind o\u2019 cousin o\u2019 my mother\u2019s, and allers glad to see me. Fact\nwas, I was putty handy round house; and she used to save up her broken\nthings and sich till I come round in the fall; and then I\u2019d mend \u2019em up,\nand put the clock right, and split her up a lot o\u2019 kindlings, and board\nup the cellar-windows, and kind o\u2019 make her sort o\u2019 comfortable,--she\nbein\u2019 a lone body, and no man round. As I said, it was sort o\u2019\nconvenient to hev me; and so I jest got the run o\u2019 things in the\nSullivan house pretty much as ef I was one on \u2019em, Gineral Sullivan he\nkept a grand house, I tell you. You see, he cum from the old country,\nand felt sort o\u2019 lordly and grand; and they used to hev the gretest kind\no\u2019 doin\u2019s there to the Sullivan house. Ye ought ter a seen that \u2019are\nhouse,--gret big front hall and gret wide stairs; none o\u2019 your steep\nkind that breaks a feller\u2019s neck to get up and down, but gret broad\nstairs with easy risers, so they used to say you could a cantered a pony\nup that \u2019are stairway easy as not. Then there was gret wide rooms, and\nsofys, and curtains, and gret curtained bedsteads that looked sort o\u2019\nlike fortifications, and pictur\u2019s that was got in Italy and Rome and all\nthem \u2019are heathen places. Ye see, the Gineral was a drefful worldly\nold critter, and was all for the pomps and the vanities. Lordy massy!\nI wonder what the poor old critter thinks about it all now, when his\nbody\u2019s all gone to dust and ashes in the graveyard, and his soul\u2019s gone\nto \u2019tarnity! Wal, that are ain\u2019t none o\u2019 my business; only it shows the\nvanity o\u2019 riches in a kind o\u2019 strikin\u2019 light, and makes me content that\nI never hed none.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Sam, I hope General Sullivan wasn\u2019t a wicked man, _was_ he?\u201d\n\n\u201cWal, I wouldn\u2019t say he was railly wickeder than the run; but he was\none o\u2019 these \u2019ere high-stepping, big-feeling fellers, that seem to be\na hevin\u2019 their portion in this life. Drefful proud he was; and he was\npretty much sot on this world, and kep\u2019 a sort o\u2019 court goin\u2019 on round\nhim. Wal, I don\u2019t jedge him nor nobody: folks that hes the world is apt\nto get sot on it. Don\u2019t none on us do more than middlin\u2019 well.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Sam, what about Ruth Sullivan?\u201d\n\n\u201cRuth?--Oh, yis!--Ruth--\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, the only crook in the old Gineral\u2019s lot was he didn\u2019t hev\nno children. Mis\u2019 Sullivan, she was a beautiful woman, as handsome as a\npictur\u2019; but she never had but one child; and he was a son who died when\nhe was a baby, and about broke her heart. And then this \u2019ere Ruth was\nher sister\u2019s child, that was born about the same time; and, when the boy\ndied, they took Ruth home to sort o\u2019 fill his place, and kind o\u2019 comfort\nup Mis\u2019 Sullivan. And then Ruth\u2019s father and mother died; and they\nadopted her for their own, and brought her up.\n\n\u201cWal, she grew up to be amazin\u2019 handsome. Why, everybody said that she\nwas jest the light and glory of that \u2019are old Sullivan place, and worth\nmore\u2019n all the pictur\u2019s and the silver and the jewels, and all there was\nin the house; and she was jest so innercent and sweet, that you never\nsee nothing to beat it. Wal, your Aunt Lois she got acquainted with Ruth\none summer when she was up to Old Town a visitin\u2019 at Parson Lothrop\u2019s.\nYour Aunt Lois was a gal then, and a pretty good-lookin\u2019 one too; and,\nsomehow or other, she took to Ruth, and Ruth took to her. And when Ruth\nwent home, they used to be a writin\u2019 backwards and forads; and I guess\nthe fact was, Ruth thought about as much of your Aunt Lois as she did o\u2019\nanybody. Ye see, your aunt was a kind o\u2019 strong up-and-down woman that\nalways knew certain jest what she did know; and Ruth, she was one o\u2019\nthem gals that seems sort o\u2019 like a stray lamb or a dove that\u2019s sort o\u2019\nlost their way in the world, and wants some one to show \u2019em where to go\nnext. For, ye see, the fact was, the old Gineral and Madam, they\ndidn\u2019t agree very well. He wa\u2019n\u2019t well pleased that she didn\u2019t have no\nchildren; and she was sort o\u2019 jealous o\u2019 him \u2019cause she got hold o\u2019 some\nsort of story about how he was to a married somebody else over there in\nEngland: so she got sort o\u2019 riled up, jest as wimmen will, the best on\n\u2019em; and they was pretty apt to have spats, and one could give t\u2019other\nas good as they sent; and, by all accounts, they fit putty lively\nsometimes. And, between the two, Ruth she was sort o\u2019 scared, and\nfluttered like a dove that didn\u2019t know jest where to settle. Ye see,\nthere she was in; that \u2019are great wide house, where they was a feastin\u2019\nand a prancin\u2019 and a dancin\u2019, and a goin\u2019 on like Ahashuerus and\nHerodias and all them old Scripture days. There was acomin\u2019 and goin,\u2019\nand there was gret dinners and gret doin\u2019s, but no love; and, you know,\nthe Scriptur\u2019 says, \u2019Better is a dinner o\u2019 yarbs, where love is, than a\nstalled ox, and hatred therewith.\u2019\n\n\u201cWal, I don\u2019t orter say _hatred_, arter all. I kind o\u2019 reckon, the old\nGineral did the best he could: the fact is, when a woman gits a kink\nin her head agin a man, the best on us don\u2019t allers do jest the right\nthing.\n\n\u201cAny way, Ruth, she was sort o\u2019 forlorn, and didn\u2019t seem to take no\ncomfort in the goin\u2019s on. The Gineral he was mighty fond on her,\nand proud on her; and there wa\u2019n\u2019t nothin\u2019 too good for Ruth. He was\nfree-handed, the Gineral wuz. He dressed her up in silks and satins, and\nshe hed a maid to wait on her, and she hed sets o\u2019 pearl and dimond; and\nMadam Sullivan she thought all the world on her, and kind o\u2019 worshipped\nthe ground she trod on. And yet Ruth was sort o\u2019 lonesome.\n\n\u201cYe see, Ruth wa\u2019n\u2019t calculated for grande\u2019r. Some folks ain\u2019t.\n\n\u201cWhy, that \u2019are summer she spent out to Old Town, she was jest as chirk\nand chipper as a wren, a wearin\u2019 her little sun-bunnet, and goin\u2019 a\nhuckle-berryin\u2019 and a black-berryin\u2019 and diggin\u2019 sweet-flag, and gettin\ncowslops and dandelions; and she hed a word for everybody. And everybody\nliked Ruth, and wished her well. Wal, she was sent for her health; and\nshe got that, and more too: she got a sweetheart.\n\n\u201cYe see, there was a Cap\u2019n Oliver a visitin\u2019 at the minister\u2019s that\nsummer,--a nice, handsome young man as ever was. He and Ruth and your\nAunt Lois, they was together a good deal; and they was a ramblin\u2019 and\na ridin\u2019 and a sailin\u2019: and so Ruth and the Capting went the way o\u2019 all\nthe airth, and fell dead in love with each other. Your Aunt Lois she\nwas knowing to it and all about it, \u2019cause Ruth she was jest one of them\nthat couldn\u2019t take a step without somebody to talk to.\n\n\u201cCaptain Oliver was of a good family in England; and so, when he made\nbold to ask the old Gineral for Ruth, he didn\u2019t say him nay: and it was\nagreed, as they was young, they should wait a year or two. If he and\nshe was of the same mind, he should be free to marry her. Jest right on\nthat, the Captain\u2019s regiment was ordered home, and he had to go; and,\nthe next they heard, it was sent off to India. And poor little Ruth she\nkind o\u2019 drooped and pined; but she kept true, and wouldn\u2019t have nothin\u2019\nto say to nobody that came arter her, for there was lots and cords o\u2019\nfellows as did come arter her. Ye see, Ruth had a takin\u2019 way with her;\nand then she had the name of bein\u2019 a great heiress, and that allers\ndraws fellers, as molasses does flies.\n\n\u201cWal, then the news came, that Captain Oliver was comin\u2019 home to\nEngland, and the ship was took by the Algerenes, and he was gone into\nslavery there among them heathen Mahomedans and what not.\n\n\u201cFolks seemed to think it was all over with him, and Ruth might jest as\nwell give up fust as last. And the old Gineral he\u2019d come to think she\nmight do better; and he kep\u2019 a introducin\u2019 one and another, and tryin\u2019\nto marry her off; but Ruth she wouldn\u2019t. She used to write sheets and\nsheets to your Aunt Lois about it; and I think Aunt Lois she kep\u2019 her\ngrit up. Your Aunt Lois she\u2019d a stuck by a man to the end o\u2019 time eft\nben her case; and so she told Ruth.\n\n\u201cWal, then there was young Jeff Sullivan, the Gineral\u2019s nephew, he\nturned up; and the Gineral he took a gret fancy to him. He was next heir\nto the Gineral; but he\u2019d ben a pretty rackety youngster in his young\ndays,--off to sea, and what not, and sowed a consid\u2019able crop o\u2019 wild\noats. People said he\u2019d been a pirating off there in South Ameriky. Lordy\nmassy! nobody rightly knew where he hed ben or where he hadn\u2019t: all was,\nhe turned up at last all alive, and chipper as a skunk blackbird. Wal,\nof course he made his court to Ruth; and the Gineral, he rather backed\nhim up in it; but Ruth she wouldn\u2019t have nothin\u2019 to say to him. Wal,\nhe come and took up his lodgin\u2019 at the Gineral\u2019s; and he was jest as\nslippery as an eel, and sort o\u2019 slid into every thing, that was a goin\u2019\non in the house and about it. He was here, and he was there, and he\nwas everywhere, and a havin\u2019 his say about this and that; and he got\neverybody putty much under his thumb. And they used to say, he wound the\nGineral round and round like a skein o\u2019 yarn; but he couldn\u2019t come it\nround Ruth.\n\n\u201cWal, the Gineral said she shouldn\u2019t be forced; and Jeff, he was smooth\nas satin, and said he\u2019d be willing to wait as long as Jacob did for\nRachel. And so there he sot down, a watchin\u2019 as patient as a cat at a\nmouse-hole; \u2019cause the Gineral he was thick-set and short-necked, and\ndrank pretty free, and was one o\u2019 the sort that might pop off any time.\n\n\u201cWal, Mis\u2019 Sullivan, she beset the Gineral to make a provision for Ruth;\n\u2019cause she told him very sensible, that he\u2019d brought her up in luxury,\nand that it wa\u2019n\u2019t fair not to settle somethin\u2019 on her; and so the\nGineral he said he\u2019d make a will, and part the property equally between\nthem. And he says to Jeff, that, if he played his part as a young fellow\noughter know how, it would all come to him in the end; \u2019cause they\nhadn\u2019t heard nothing from Captain Oliver for three or four years, and\nfolks about settled it that he must be dead.\n\n\u201cWal, the Gineral he got a letter about an estate that had come to him\nin England; and he had to go over. Wal, livin\u2019 on the next estate, was\nthe very cousin of the Gineral\u2019s that he was to a married when they was\nboth young: the lands joined so that the grounds run together. What came\nbetween them two nobody knows; but she never married, and there she was.\nThere was high words between the Gineral and Madam Sullivan about his\ngoin\u2019 over. She said there wa\u2019n\u2019t no sort o\u2019 need on\u2019t, and he said\nthere was; and she said she hoped _she_ should be in her grave afore he\ncome back; and he said she might suit herself about that for all him.\nThat \u2019are was the story that the housekeeper told to Aunt Polly; and\nAunt Polly she told me. These \u2019ere squabbles somehow allers does kind o\u2019\nleak out one way or t\u2019other. Anyhow, it was a house divided agin itself\nat the Gineral\u2019s, when he was a fixin\u2019 out for the voyage. There was\nRuth a goin\u2019 fust to one, and then to t\u2019other, and tryin\u2019 all she could\nto keep peace beteen \u2019em; and there was this \u2019ere Master Slick Tongue\ntalkin\u2019 this way to one side, and that way to t\u2019other, and the old\nGineral kind o\u2019 like a shuttle-cock atween \u2019em.\n\n\u201cWal, then, the night afore he sailed, the Gineral he hed his lawyer\nup in his library there, a lookin\u2019 over all his papers and bonds and\nthings, and a witnessing his will; and Master Jeff was there, as lively\nas a cricket, a goin\u2019 into all affairs, and offerin\u2019 to take precious\ngood care while he was gone; and the Gineral he had his papers and\nletters out, a sortin\u2019 on \u2019em over, which was to be took to the old\ncountry, and which was to be put in a trunk to go back to Lawyer\nDennis\u2019s office.\n\n\u201cWal, Abner Ginger, Polly\u2019s boy, he that was footman and waiter then\nat the Gineral\u2019s, he told me, that, about eight o\u2019clock that evening he\nwent up with hot water and lemons and sperits and sich, and he see the\ngret green table in the library all strewed and covered with piles o\u2019\npapers; and there was tin boxes a standin\u2019 round; and the Gineral a\npackin\u2019 a trunk, and young Master Jeff, as lively and helpful as a rat\nthat smells cheese. And then the Gineral he says, \u2018Abner,\u2019 says he, \u2018can\nyou write your name?\u2019--\u2018I should hope so, Gineral.\u2019 says Abner.--\u2018Wal,\nthen, Abner,\u2019 says he, \u2018this is my last will; and I want you to witness\nit,\u2019 and so Abner he put down his name opposite to a place with a wafer\nand a seal; and then the Gineral, he says, \u2018Abner, you tell Ginger to\ncome here.\u2019 That, you see, was his housekeeper, my Aunt Polly\u2019s sister,\nand a likely woman as ever was. And so they had her up, and she put\ndown her name to the will; and then Aunt Polly she was had up (she was\ndrinking tea there that night), and she put down her name. And all of\n\u2019em did it with good heart, \u2019cause it had got about among \u2019em that the\nwill was to provide for Miss Ruth; for everybody loved Ruth, ye see, and\nthere was consid\u2019ble many stories kind o\u2019 goin\u2019 the rounds about Master\nJeff and his doin\u2019s. And they did say he sort o\u2019 kep\u2019 up the strife\natween the Gineral and my lady, and so they didn\u2019t think none too well\no\u2019 him; and, as he was next o\u2019 kin, and Miss Ruth wa\u2019n\u2019t none o\u2019 the\nGineral\u2019s blood (ye see, she was Mis\u2019 Sullivan\u2019s sister\u2019s child), of\ncourse there wouldn\u2019t nothin\u2019 go to Miss Ruth in way o\u2019 law, and so that\nwas why the signin\u2019 o\u2019 that \u2019are will was so much talked about among\n\u2019em.\u201d\n\n\u201cWal, you see, the Gineral he sailed the next day; and Jeff he staid by\nto keep watch o\u2019 things.\n\n\u201cWal, the old Gineral he got over safe; for Miss Sullivan, she had a\nletter from him all right. When he got away, his conscience sort o\u2019\nnagged him, and he was minded to be a good husband. At any rate, he\nwrote a good loving letter to her, and sent his love to Ruth, and sent\nover lots o\u2019 little keepsakes and things for her, and told her that he\nleft her under good protection, and wanted her to try and make up her\nmind to marry Jeff, as that would keep the property together.\n\n\u201cWal, now there couldn\u2019t be no sort o\u2019 sugar sweeter than Jeff was to\nthem lone wimmen. Jeff was one o\u2019 the sort that could be all things to\nall wimmen. He waited and he tended, and he was as humble as any snake\nin the grass that ever ye see and the old lady, she clean fell in with\nhim, but Ruth, she seemed to have a regular spite agin him. And she that\nwar as gentle as a lamb, that never had so much as a hard thought of a\nmortal critter, and wouldn\u2019t tread on a worm, she was so set agin Jeff,\nthat she wouldn\u2019t so much as touch his hand when she got out o\u2019 her\nkerridge.\n\n\u201cWal, now comes the strange part o\u2019 my story. Ruth was one o\u2019 the kind\nthat _hes the gift o\u2019 seein\u2019. She was born with a veil over her face!_\u201d\n\nThis mysterious piece of physiological information about Ruth was given\nwith a look and air that announced something very profound and awful;\nand we both took up the inquiry, \u201cBorn with a veil over her face? How\nshould _that_ make her see?\u201d\n\n\u201cWal, boys; how should I know? But the fact _is so_. There\u2019s those as is\nwal known as hes the gift o\u2019 seein\u2019 what others can\u2019t see: they can see\nthrough walls and houses; they can see people\u2019s hearts; they can\nsee what\u2019s to come. They don\u2019t know nothin\u2019 how \u2019tis, but this \u2019ere\nknowledge comes to \u2019em: it\u2019s a gret gift; and that sort\u2019s born with the\nveil over their faces. Ruth was o\u2019 these \u2019ere. Old Granny Badger she\nwas the knowingest old nuss in all these parts; and she was with Ruth\u2019s\nmother when she was born, and she told Lady Lothrop all about it. Says\nshe, \u2019You may depend upon it that child \u2019ll have the \u201csecond-sight\u201d\u2019\nsays she. Oh, that \u2019are fact was wal known! Wal, that was the reason\nwhy Jeff Sullivan couldn\u2019t come it round Ruth tho\u2019 he was silkier than\na milkweed-pod, and jest about as patient as a spider in his hole a\nwatchin\u2019 to get his grip on a fly. Ruth wouldn\u2019t argue with him, and she\nwouldn\u2019t flout him; but she jest shut herself up in herself, and kept a\nlookout on him; but she told your Aunt Lois jest what she thought about\nhim.\n\n\u201cWal, in about six months, come the news that the Gineral was dead. He\ndropped right down in his tracks, dead with apoplexy, as if he had been\nshot; and Lady Maxwell she writ a long letter to my lady and Ruth. Ye\nsee, he\u2019d got to be Sir Thomas Sullivan over there; and he was a comin\u2019\nhome to take \u2019em all over to England to live in grande\u2019r. Wal, my Lady\nSullivan (she was then, ye see) she took it drefful hard. Ef they\u2019d a\nbeen the lovingest couple in the world, she couldn\u2019t a took it harder.\nAunt Polly, she said it was all \u2019cause she thought so much of him, that\nshe fit him so. There\u2019s women that thinks so much o\u2019 their husbands,\nthat they won\u2019t let \u2019em hev no peace o\u2019 their life; and I expect it war\nso with her, poor soul! Any way, she went right down smack, when she\nheard he was dead. She was abed, sick, when the news come; and she never\nspoke nor smiled, jest turned her back to everybody, and kinder wilted\nand wilted, and was dead in a week. And there was poor little Ruth left\nall alone in the world, with neither kith nor kin but Jeff.\n\n\u201cWal, when the funeral was over, and the time app\u2019inted to read the will\nand settle up matters, there wa\u2019n\u2019t no will to be found nowhere, high\nnor low.\n\n\u201cLawyer Dean he flew round like a parched pea on a shovel. He said he\nthought he could a gone in the darkest night, and put his hand on that\n\u2019ere will; but when he went where he thought it was, he found it warn\u2019t\nthere, and he knowed he\u2019d kep\u2019 it under lock and key. What he thought\nwas the will turned out to be an old mortgage. Wal, there was an awful\nrow and a to-do about it, you may be sure. Ruth, she jist said nothin\u2019\ngood or bad. And her not speakin\u2019 made Jeff a sight more uncomfortable\nthan ef she\u2019d a hed it out with him. He told her it shouldn\u2019t make no\nsort o\u2019 difference; that he should allers stand ready to give her all he\nhed, if she\u2019d only take him with it. And when it came to that she only\ngin him a look, and went out o\u2019 the room.\n\n\u201cJeff he flared and flounced and talked, and went round and round a\nrumpussin\u2019 among the papers, but no will was forthcomin\u2019, high or low.\nWal, now here comes what\u2019s remarkable. Ruth she told this \u2019ere, all the\nparticulars, to yer Aunt Lois and Lady Lothrop. She said that the night\nafter the funeral she went up to her chamber. Ruth had the gret\nfront chamber, opposite to Mis\u2019 Sullivan\u2019s. I\u2019ve been in it; it was a\nmonstrous big room, with outlandish furniture in it, that the Gineral\nbrought over from an old palace out to Italy. And there was a great big\nlookin\u2019-glass over the dressin\u2019-table, that they said come from Venice,\nthat swung so that you could see the whole room in it. Wal, she was a\nstandin\u2019 front o\u2019 this, jist goin\u2019 to undress herself, a hearin\u2019 the\nrain drip on the leaves and the wind a whishin\u2019 and whisperin\u2019 in the\nold elm-trees, and jist a thinkin\u2019 over her lot, and what should she\ndo now, all alone in the world, when of a sudden she felt a kind o\u2019\nlightness in her head, and she thought she seemed to see somebody in the\nglass a movin\u2019. And she looked behind, and there wa\u2019n\u2019t nobody there.\nThen she looked forward in the glass, and saw a strange big room, that\nshe\u2019d never seen before, with a long painted winder in it; and along\nside o\u2019 this stood a tall cabinet with a good many drawers in it. And\nshe saw herself, and knew that it was herself, in this room, along with\nanother woman whose back was turned towards her. She saw herself speak\nto this woman, and p\u2019int to the cabinet. She saw the woman nod her head.\nShe saw herself go to the cabinet, and open the middle drawer, and take\nout a bundle o\u2019 papers from the very back end on\u2019t. She saw her take out\na paper from the middle, and open it, and hold it up; and she knew that\nthere was the missin\u2019 will. Wal, it all overcome her so that she fainted\nclean away. And her maid found her a lyin\u2019 front o\u2019 the dressin\u2019-table\non the floor.\n\n\u201cShe was sick of a fever\u2019 for a week or fortnight a\u2019ter; and your Aunt\nLois she was down takin\u2019 care of her; and, as soon as she got able to be\nmoved, she was took out to Lady Lothrop\u2019s. Jeff he was jist as attentive\nand good as he could be; but she wouldn\u2019t bear him near her room. If he\nso much as set a foot on the stairs that led to it she\u2019d know it, and\ngot so wild that he hed to be kept from comin\u2019 into the front o\u2019 the\nhouse. But he was doin\u2019 his best to buy up good words from everybody. He\npaid all the servants double; he kept every one in their places, and\ndid so well by \u2019em all that the gen\u2019l word among \u2019em was that Miss Ruth\ncouldn\u2019t do better than to marry such a nice, open-handed gentleman.\n\n\u201cWal, Lady Lothrop she wrote to Lady Maxwell all that hed happened; and\nLady Maxwell, she sent over for Ruth to come over and be a companion for\nher, and said she\u2019d adopt her, and be as a mother to her.\n\n\u201cWal, then Ruth she went over with some gentlefolks that was goin\u2019 back\nto England, and offered to see her safe and sound; and so she was set\ndown at Lady Maxwell\u2019s manor. It was a grand place, she said, and such\nas she never see before,--like them old gentry places in England. And\nLady Maxwell she made much of her, and cosseted her up for the sake of\nwhat the old Gineral had said about her. And Ruth she told her all her\nstory, and how she believed that the will was to be found somewhere, and\nthat she should be led to see it yet.\n\n\u201cShe told her, too, that she felt it in her that Cap\u2019n Oliver wasn\u2019t\ndead, and that he\u2019d come back yet. And Lady Maxwell she took up for her\nwith might and main, and said she\u2019d stand by her. But then, ye see, so\nlong as there warn\u2019t no will to be found, there warn\u2019t nothin\u2019 to be\ndone. Jeff was the next heir; and he\u2019d got every thing, stock, and lot,\nand the estate in England into the bargain. And folks was beginnin\u2019 to\nthink putty well of him, as folks allers does when a body is up in the\nworld, and hes houses and lands. Lordy massy! riches allers covers a\nmultitude o\u2019 sins.\n\n\u201cFinally, when Ruth hed ben six months with her, one day Lady Maxwell\ngot to tellin\u2019 her all about her history, and what hed ben atween her\nand her cousin, when they was young, and how they hed a quarrel and he\nflung off to Ameriky, and all them things that it don\u2019t do folks no good\nto remember when it\u2019s all over and can\u2019t be helped. But she was a lone\nbody, and it seemed to do her good to talk about it.\n\n\u201cFinally, she says to Ruth, says she, \u2018I\u2019ll show you a room in this\nhouse you han\u2019t seen before. It was the room where we hed that quarrel,\u2019\nsays she; \u2018and the last I saw of him was there, till he come back to\ndie,\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201cSo she took a gret key out of her bunch; and she led Ruth along a\nlong passage-way to the other end of the house, and opened on a great\nlibrary. And the minute Ruth came in, she threw up her hands and gin a\ngreat cry. \u2019Oh!\u2019 says she, \u2019this is the room! and there is the window!\nand there is the cabinet! and _there in that middle drawer at the back\nend in a bundle of papers is the will!_\n\n\u201cAnd Lady Maxwell she said, quite dazed, \u2018Go look,\u2019 says she. And Ruth\nwent, jest as she seed herself do, and opened the drawer, and drew forth\nfrom the back part a yellow pile of old letters. And in the middle of\nthose was the will, sure enough. Ruth drew it out, and opened it, and\nshowed it to her.\n\n\u201cWal, you see that will give Ruth the whole of the Gineral\u2019s property in\nAmerica, tho\u2019 it did leave the English estate to Jeff.\n\n\u201cWal, the end on\u2019t was like a story-book.\n\n\u201cJeff he made believe be mighty glad. And he said it must a ben that the\nGineral hed got flustered with the sperit and water, and put that\n\u2019ere will in among his letters that he was a doin\u2019 up to take back to\nEngland. For it was in among Lady Maxwell\u2019s letters that she writ him\nwhen they was young, and that he\u2019d a kep\u2019 all these years and was a\ntakin\u2019 back to her.\n\n\u201cWal, Lawyer Dean said he was sure that Jeff made himself quite busy and\nuseful that night, a tyin\u2019 up the papers with red tape, and a packin\u2019\nthe Gineral\u2019s trunk; and that, when Jeff gin him his bundle to lock up\nin his box, he never mistrusted but what he\u2019d got it all right.\n\n\u201cWal, you see it was jest one of them things that can\u2019t be known to the\njedgment-day. It might a ben an accident, and then agin it might not;\nand folks settled it one way or t\u2019other, \u2019cordin\u2019 to their \u2019pinion\no\u2019 Jeff; but ye see how \u2019mazin\u2019 handy for him it happened! Why, ef it\nhadn\u2019t ben for the providence I\u2019ve ben a tellin\u2019 about, there it might a\nlain in them old letters, that Lady Maxwell said she never hed the heart\nto look over! it never would a turned up in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat became of Ruth?\u201d \u201cOh! Cap\u2019n Oliver he came back\nall alive, and escaped from the Algerines; and they was married in\nKing\u2019s Chapel, and lived in the old Sullivan House, in peace and\nprosperity. That\u2019s jest how the story was; and now Aunt Lois can make\nwhat she\u2019s a mind ter out on\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what became of Jeff?\u201d \u201cOh! he started to go over to England, and\nthe ship was wrecked off the Irish coast, and that was the last of him.\nHe never got to his property.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood enough for him,\u201d said both of us. \u201cWal, I don\u2019t know: \u2019twas\npretty hard on Jeff. Mebbe he did, and mebbe he didn\u2019t. I\u2019m glad I\nwarn\u2019t in his shoes, tho\u2019. I\u2019d rather never hed nothin\u2019. This \u2019ere\nhastin\u2019 to be rich is sich a drefful temptation.\n\n\u201cWal, now, boys, ye\u2019ve done a nice lot o\u2019 flax, and I guess we\u2019ll go up\nto yer grand\u2019ther\u2019s cellar and git a mug o\u2019 cyder. Talkin\u2019 always gits\nme dry.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Tailpiece, Page 052]\n\n[Illustration: The Minister\u2019s Housekeeper, Page 053]\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE MINISTER\u2019S HOUSEKEEPER.\n\nScene.--The shady side of a blueberry-pasture.--Sam Lawson with the\nboys, picking blueberries.--Sam, _loq_.\n\nAs, you see, boys, \u2019twas just here,--Parson Carryl\u2019s wife, she died\nalong in the forepart o\u2019 March: my cousin Huldy, she undertook to keep\nhouse for him. The way on\u2019t was, that Huldy, she went to take care\no\u2019 Mis\u2019 Carryl in the fust on\u2019t, when she fust took sick. Huldy was\na tailoress by trade; but then she was one o\u2019 these \u2019ere facultised\npersons that has a gift for most any thing, and that was how Mis\u2019 Carryl\ncome to set sech store by her, that, when she was sick, nothin\u2019 would do\nfor her but she must have Huldy round all the time: and the minister,\nhe said he\u2019d make it good to her all the same, and she shouldn\u2019t lose\nnothin\u2019 by it. And so Huldy, she staid with Mis\u2019 Carryl full three\nmonths afore she died, and got to seein\u2019 to every thing pretty much\nround the place.\n\n\u201cWal, arter Mis\u2019 Carryl died, Parson Carryl, he\u2019d got so kind o\u2019 used to\nhevin\u2019 on her \u2019round, takin\u2019 care o\u2019 things, that he wanted her to stay\nalong a spell; and so Huldy, she staid along a spell, and poured out\nhis tea, and mended his close, and made pies and cakes, and cooked and\nwashed and ironed, and kep\u2019 every thing as neat as a pin. Huldy was a\ndrefful chipper sort o\u2019 gal; and work sort o\u2019 rolled off from her like\nwater off a duck\u2019s back. There warn\u2019t no gal in Sherburne that could\nput sich a sight o\u2019 work through as Huldy; and yet, Sunday mornin\u2019, she\nalways come out in the singers\u2019 seat like one o\u2019 these \u2019ere June roses,\nlookin\u2019 so fresh and smilin\u2019, and her voice was jest as clear and sweet\nas a meadow lark\u2019s--Lordy massy! I \u2019member how she used to sing some o\u2019\nthem \u2019are places where the treble and counter used to go together: her\nvoice kind o\u2019 trembled a little, and it sort o\u2019 went thro\u2019 and thro\u2019 a\nfeller! tuck him right where he lived!\u201d\n\nHere Sam leaned contemplatively back with his head in a clump of sweet\nfern, and refreshed himself with a chew of young wintergreen. \u201cThis \u2019ere\nyoung wintergreen, boys, is jest like a feller\u2019s thoughts o\u2019 things that\nhappened when he was young: it comes up jest so fresh and tender every\nyear, the longest time you hev to live; and you can\u2019t help chawin\u2019\non\u2019t tho\u2019 \u2019tis sort o\u2019 stingin\u2019. I don\u2019t never get over likin\u2019 young\nwintergreen.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut about Huldah, Sam?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes! about Huldy. Lordy massy! when a feller is Indianin\u2019 round,\nthese \u2019ere pleasant summer days, a feller\u2019s thoughts gits like a flock\no\u2019 young partridges: they\u2019s up and down and everywhere; \u2019cause one place\nis jest about as good as another, when they\u2019s all so kind o\u2019 comfortable\nand nice. Wal, about Huldy,--as I was a sayin\u2019. She was jest as\nhandsome a gal to look at as a feller could have; and I think a nice,\nwell-behaved young gal in the singers\u2019 seat of a Sunday is a means o\u2019\ngrace: it\u2019s sort o\u2019 drawin\u2019 to the unregenerate, you know. Why, boys, in\nthem days, I\u2019ve walked ten miles over to Sherburne of a Sunday mornin\u2019,\njest to play the bass-viol in the same singers\u2019 seat with Huldy. She was\nvery much respected, Huldy was; and, when she went out to tailorin\u2019, she\nwas allers bespoke six months ahead, and sent for in waggins up and down\nfor ten miles round; for the young fellers was allers \u2019mazin\u2019 anxious to\nbe sent after Huldy, and was quite free to offer to go for her. Wal,\nafter Mis\u2019 Carryl died, Huldy got to be sort o\u2019 housekeeper at the\nminister\u2019s, and saw to every thing, and did every thing: so that there\nwarn\u2019t a pin out o\u2019 the way.\n\n\u201cBut you know how \u2019tis in parishes: there allers is women that thinks\nthe minister\u2019s affairs belongs to them, and they ought to have the\nrulin\u2019 and guidin\u2019 of \u2019em; and, if a minister\u2019s wife dies, there\u2019s folks\nthat allers has their eyes open on providences,--lookin\u2019 out who\u2019s to be\nthe next one.\n\n\u201cNow, there was Mis\u2019 Amaziah Pipperidge, a widder with snappin\u2019 black\neyes, and a hook nose,--kind o\u2019 like a hawk; and she was one o\u2019 them\nup-and-down commandin\u2019 sort o\u2019 women, that feel that they have a call to\nbe seein\u2019 to every thing that goes on in the parish, and \u2019specially to\nthe minister.\n\n\u201cFolks did say that Mis\u2019 Pipperidge sort o\u2019 sot her eye on the parson\nfor herself: wal, now that \u2019are might a been, or it might not. Some\nfolks thought it was a very suitable connection. You see she hed a good\nproperty of her own, right nigh to the minister\u2019s lot, and was allers\nkind o\u2019 active and busy; so takin\u2019 one thing with another, I shouldn\u2019t\nwonder if Mis\u2019 Pipperidge should a thought that Providence p\u2019inted that\nway. At any rate, she went up to Deakin Blodgett\u2019s wife, and they two\nsort o\u2019 put their heads together a mournin\u2019 and condolin\u2019 about the way\nthings was likely to go on at the minister\u2019s now Mis\u2019 Carryl was dead.\nYe see, the parson\u2019s wife, she was one of them women who hed their eyes\neverywhere and on every thing. She was a little thin woman, but tough as\nInger rubber, and smart as a steel trap; and there warn\u2019t a hen laid an\negg, or cackled, but Mis\u2019 Carryl was right there to see about it; and\nshe hed the garden made in the spring, and the medders mowed in summer,\nand the cider made, and the corn husked, and the apples got in the\nfall; and the doctor, he hedn\u2019t nothin\u2019 to do but jest sit stock still a\nmeditatin\u2019 on Jerusalem and Jericho and them things that ministers think\nabout. But Lordy massy! he didn\u2019t know nothin\u2019 about where any thing he\neat or drunk or wore come from or went to: his wife jest led him \u2019round\nin temporal things and took care on him like a baby.\n\n\u201cWal, to be sure, Mis\u2019 Carryl looked up to him in spirituals, and\nthought all the world on him; for there warn\u2019t a smarter minister no\nwhere \u2019round. Why, when he preached on decrees and election, they used\nto come clear over from South Parish, and West Sherburne, and Old Town\nto hear him; and there was sich a row o\u2019 waggins tied along by the\nmeetin\u2019-house that the stables was all full, and all the hitchin\u2019-posts\nwas full clean up to the tavern, so that folks said the doctor made the\ntown look like a gineral trainin\u2019-day a Sunday.\n\n\u201cHe was gret on texts, the doctor was. When he hed a p\u2019int to prove,\nhe\u2019d jest go thro\u2019 the Bible, and drive all the texts ahead o\u2019 him like\na flock o\u2019 sheep; and then, if there was a text that seemed agin him,\nwhy, he\u2019d come out with his Greek and Hebrew, and kind o\u2019 chase it\n\u2019round a spell, jest as ye see a fellar chase a contrary bell-wether,\nand make him jump the fence arter the rest. I tell you, there wa\u2019n\u2019t no\ntext in the Bible that could stand agin the doctor when his blood was\nup. The year arter the doctor was app\u2019inted to preach the \u2019lection\nsermon in Boston, he made such a figger that the Brattle-street Church\nsent a committee right down to see if they couldn\u2019t get him to Boston;\nand then the Sherburne folks, they up and raised his salary; ye see,\nthere ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 wakes folks up like somebody else\u2019s wantin\u2019 what\nyou\u2019ve got. Wal, that fall they made him a Doctor o\u2019 Divinity at\nCambridge College, and so they sot more by him than ever. Wal, you see,\nthe doctor, of course he felt kind o\u2019 lonesome and afflicted when Mis\u2019\nCarryl was gone; but railly and truly, Huldy was so up to every thing\nabout house, that the doctor didn\u2019t miss nothin\u2019 in a temporal way.\nHis shirt-bosoms was pleated finer than they ever was, and them ruffles\n\u2019round his wrists was kep\u2019 like the driven snow; and there warn\u2019t a\nbrack in his silk stockin\u2019s, and his shoe buckles was kep\u2019 polished up,\nand his coats brushed; and then there warn\u2019t no bread and biscuit like\nHuldy\u2019s; and her butter was like solid lumps o\u2019 gold; and there wern\u2019t\nno pies to equal hers; and so the doctor never felt the loss o\u2019 Miss\nCarryl at table. Then there was Huldy allers opposite to him, with\nher blue eyes and her cheeks like two fresh peaches. She was kind o\u2019\npleasant to look at; and the more the doctor looked at her the better\nhe liked her; and so things seemed to be goin\u2019 on quite quiet and\ncomfortable ef it hadn\u2019t been that Mis\u2019 Pipperidge and Mis\u2019 Deakin\nBlodgett and Mis\u2019 Sawin got their heads together a talkin\u2019 about things.\n\n\u201c\u2018Poor man,\u2019 says Mis\u2019 Pipperidge, \u2018what can that child that he\u2019s got\nthere do towards takin\u2019 the care of all that place? It takes a mature\nwoman,\u2019 she says, \u2018to tread in Mis\u2019 Carryl\u2019s shoes.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018That it does,\u2019 said Mis\u2019 Blodgett; \u2018and, when things once get to\nrunnin\u2019 down hill, there ain\u2019t no stoppin\u2019 on \u2019em,\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201cThen Mis\u2019 Sawin she took it up. (Ye see, Mis\u2019 Sawin used to go out to\ndress-makin\u2019, and was sort o\u2019 \u2019jealous, \u2019cause folks sot more by Huldy\nthan they did by her). \u2018Well,\u2019 says she, \u2018Huldy Peters is well enough at\nher trade. I never denied that, though I do say I never did believe in\nher way o\u2019 makin\u2019 button-holes; and I must say, if \u2019twas the dearest\nfriend I hed, that I thought Huldy tryin\u2019 to fit Mis\u2019 Kittridge\u2019s\nplumb-colored silk was a clear piece o\u2019 presumption; the silk was jist\nspiled, so \u2019twarn\u2019t fit to come into the meetin\u2019-house. I must say,\nHuldy\u2019s a gal that\u2019s always too ventersome about takin\u2019 \u2019sponsibilities\nshe don\u2019t know nothin\u2019 about.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Of course she don\u2019t,\u2019 said Mis\u2019 Deakin Blodgett. \u2019What does she know\nabout all the lookin\u2019 and seein\u2019 to that there ought to be in guidin\u2019\nthe minister\u2019s house. Huldy\u2019s well meanin\u2019, and she\u2019s good at her\nwork, and good in the singers\u2019 seat; but Lordy massy! she hain\u2019t got\nno experience. Parson Carryl ought to have an experienced woman to\nkeep house for him. There\u2019s the spring house-cleanin\u2019 and the fall\nhouse-cleanin\u2019 to be seen to, and the things to be put away from the\nmoths; and then the gettin\u2019 ready for the association and all the\nministers\u2019 meetin\u2019s; and the makin\u2019 the soap and the candles, and\nsettin\u2019 the hens and turkeys, watchin\u2019 the calves, and seein\u2019 after\nthe hired men and the garden; and there that \u2019are blessed man jist sets\nthere at home as serene, and has nobody \u2019round but that \u2019are gal, and\ndon\u2019t even know how things must be a runnin\u2019 to waste!\u2019\n\n\u201cWal, the upshot on\u2019t was, they fussed and fuzzled and wuzzled till\nthey\u2019d drinked up all the tea in the teapot; and then they went down and\ncalled on the parson, and wuzzled him all up talkin\u2019 about this, that,\nand t\u2019other that wanted lookin\u2019 to, and that it was no way to leave\nevery thing to a young chit like Huldy, and that he ought to be lookin\u2019\nabout for an experienced woman. The parson he thanked \u2019em kindly, and\nsaid he believed their motives was good, but he didn\u2019t go no further.\nHe didn\u2019t ask Mis\u2019 Pipperidge to come and stay there and help him, nor\nnothin\u2019 o\u2019 that kind; but he said he\u2019d attend to matters himself. The\nfact was, the parson had got such a likin\u2019 for havin\u2019 Huldy \u2019round, that\nhe couldn\u2019t think o\u2019 such a thing as swappin\u2019 her off for the Widder\nPipperidge.\n\n\u201cBut he thought to himself, \u2018Huldy is a good girl; but I oughtn\u2019t to\nbe a leavin\u2019 every thing to her,--it\u2019s too hard on her. I ought to be\ninstructin\u2019 and guidin\u2019 and helpin\u2019 of her; \u2019cause \u2019tain\u2019t everybody\ncould be expected to know and do what Mis\u2019 Carryl did;\u2019 and so at it he\nwent; and Lordy massy! didn\u2019t Huldy hev a time on\u2019t when the minister\nbegan to come out of his study, and want to tew \u2019round and see to\nthings? Huldy, you see, thought all the world of the minister, and she\nwas \u2019most afraid to laugh; but she told me she couldn\u2019t, for the life of\nher, help it when his back was turned, for he wuzzled things up in the\nmost singular way. But Huldy she\u2019d jest say \u2018Yes, sir,\u2019 and get him off\ninto his study, and go on her own way.\n\n\u201c\u2018Huldy,\u2019 says the minister one day, \u2018you ain\u2019t experienced out doors;\nand, when you want to know any thing, you must come to me.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, sir,\u2019 says Huldy.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now, Huldy,\u2019 says the parson, \u2018you must be sure to save the\nturkey-eggs, so that we can have a lot of turkeys for Thanksgiving.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, sir,\u2019 says Huldy; and she opened the pantry-door, and showed\nhim a nice dishful she\u2019d been a savin\u2019 up. Wal, the very next day the\nparson\u2019s hen-turkey was found killed up to old Jim Scroggs\u2019s barn. Folks\nsaid Scroggs killed it; though Scroggs, he stood to it he didn\u2019t: at\nany rate, the Scroggses, they made a meal on\u2019t; and Huldy, she felt bad\nabout it \u2019cause she\u2019d set her heart on raisin\u2019 the turkeys; and says\nshe, \u2018Oh, dear! I don\u2019t know what I shall do. I was just ready to see\n[set] her.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Do, Huldy?\u2019 says the parson: \u2018why, there\u2019s the other turkey, out there\nby the door; and a fine bird, too, he is.\u2019 Sure enough, there was the\nold tom-turkey a struttin\u2019 and a sidlin\u2019 and a quitterin,\u2019 and a\nfloutin\u2019 his tail-feathers in the sun, like a lively young widower, all\nready to begin life over agin.\n\n\u201c\u2018But,\u2019 says Huldy, \u2018you know he can\u2019t set on eggs.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018He can\u2019t? I\u2019d like to know why,\u2019 says the parson. \u2018He \u2018shall\u2019 set on\neggs, and hatch \u2019em too.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018O doctor!\u2019 says Huldy, all in a tremble; \u2019cause, you know, she\ndidn\u2019t want to contradict the minister, and she was afraid she should\nlaugh,--\u2018I never heard that a tom-turkey would set on eggs.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, they ought to,\u2019 said the parson, getting quite \u2019arnest: \u2018what\nelse be they good for? you just bring out the eggs, now, and put \u2019em in\nthe nest, and I\u2019ll make him set on \u2019em.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo Huldy she thought there wern\u2019t no way to convince him but to let him\ntry: so she took the eggs out, and fixed \u2019em all nice in the nest;\nand then she come back and found old Tom a skirmishin\u2019 with the parson\npretty lively, I tell ye. Ye see, old Tom he didn\u2019t take the idee at\nall; and he flopped and gobbled, and fit the parson; and the parson\u2019s\nwig got \u2019round so that his cue stuck straight out over his ear, but he\u2019d\ngot his blood up. Ye see, the old doctor was used to carryin\u2019 his p\u2019ints\no\u2019 doctrine; and he hadn\u2019t fit the Arminians and Socinians to be beat by\na tom-turkey; so finally he made a dive, and ketched him by the neck\nin spite o\u2019 his floppin\u2019, and stroked him down, and put Huldy\u2019s apron\n\u2019round him.\n\n\u201c\u2018There, Huldy,\u2019 he says, quite red in the face, \u2018we\u2019ve got him now;\u2019\nand he travelled off to the barn with him as lively as a cricket.\n\n[Illustration: Huldy came behind chokin\u2019 with laugh, Page 065]\n\n\u201cHuldy came behind jist chokin\u2019 with laugh, and afraid the minister\nwould look \u2019round and see her.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now, Huldy, we\u2019ll crook his legs, and set him down,\u2019 says the parson,\nwhen they got him to the nest: \u2018you see he is getting quiet, and he\u2019ll\nset there all right.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd the parson, he sot him down; and old Tom he sot there solemn\nenough, and held his head down all droopin\u2019, lookin\u2019 like a rail pious\nold cock, as long as the parson sot by him.\n\n\u201c\u2018There: you see how still he sets,\u2019 says the parson to Huldy.\n\n\u201cHuldy was \u2019most dyin\u2019 for fear she should laugh. \u2018I\u2019m afraid he\u2019ll get\nup,\u2019 says she, \u2018when you do.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, no, he won\u2019t!\u2019 says the parson, quite confident. \u2019There, there,\u2019\nsays he, layin\u2019 his hands on him, as if pronouncin\u2019 a blessin\u2019. But when\nthe parson riz up, old Tom he riz up too, and began to march over the\neggs.\n\n\u201c\u2018Stop, now!\u2019 says the parson. \u2019I\u2019ll make him get down agin: hand me\nthat corn-basket; we\u2019ll put that over him.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo he crooked old Tom\u2019s legs, and got him down agin; and they put the\ncorn-basket over him, and then they both stood and waited.\n\n\u201c\u2018That\u2019ll do the thing, Huldy,\u2019 said the parson.\n\n\u201c\u2018I don\u2019t know about it,\u2019 says Huldy.\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, yes, it will, child! I understand,\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201cJust as he spoke, the basket riz right up and stood, and they could see\nold Tom\u2019s long legs.\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ll make him stay down, confound him,\u2019 says the parson; for, ye see,\nparsons is men, like the rest on us, and the doctor had got his spunk\nup.\n\n\u201c\u2018You jist hold him a minute, and I\u2019ll get something that\u2019ll make him\nstay, I guess;\u2019 and out he went to the fence, and brought in a long,\nthin, flat stone, and laid it on old Tom\u2019s back.\n\n\u201cOld Tom he wilted down considerable under this, and looked railly as if\nhe was goin\u2019 to give in. He staid still there a good long spell, and\nthe minister and Huldy left him there and come up to the house; but\nthey hadn\u2019t more than got in the door before they see old Tom a hippin\u2019\nalong, as high-steppin\u2019 as ever, sayin\u2019 \u2019Talk! talk! and quitter!\nquitter!\u2019 and struttin\u2019 and gobblin\u2019 as if he\u2019d come through the Red\nSea, and got the victory.\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, my eggs!\u2019 says Huldy. \u2019I\u2019m afraid he\u2019s smashed \u2019em!\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd sure enough, there they was, smashed flat enough under the stone.\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ll have him killed,\u2019 said the parson: \u2018we won\u2019t have such a critter\n\u2019round.\u2019\n\n\u201cBut the parson, he slep\u2019 on\u2019t, and then didn\u2019t do it: he only come\nout next Sunday with a tip-top sermon on the \u2019Riginal Cuss\u2019 that was\npronounced on things in gineral, when Adam fell, and showed how every\nthing was allowed to go contrary ever since. There was pig-weed, and\npusley, and Canady thistles, cut-worms, and bag-worms, and canker-worms,\nto say nothin\u2019 of rattlesnakes. The doctor made it very impressive and\nsort o\u2019 improvin\u2019; but Huldy, she told me, goin\u2019 home, that she hardly\ncould keep from laughin\u2019 two or three times in the sermon when she\nthought of old Tom a standin\u2019 up with the corn-basket on his back.\n\n\u201cWal, next week Huldy she jist borrowed the minister\u2019s horse\nand side-saddle, and rode over to South Parish to her Aunt\nBascome\u2019s,--Widder Bascome\u2019s, you know, that lives there by the\ntrout-brook,--and got a lot o\u2019 turkey-eggs o\u2019 her, and come back and set\na hen on \u2019em, and said nothin\u2019; and in good time there was as nice a lot\no\u2019 turkey-chicks as ever ye see.\n\n\u201cHuldy never said a word to the minister about his experiment, and he\nnever said a word to her; but he sort o\u2019 kep\u2019 more to his books, and\ndidn\u2019t take it on him to advise her.\n\n\u201cBut not long arter he took it into his head that Huldy ought to have a\npig to be a fattin\u2019 with the buttermilk. Mis\u2019 Pipperidge set him up to\nit; and jist then old Tim Bigelow, out to Juniper Hill, told him if he\u2019d\ncall over he\u2019d give him a little pig.\n\n\u201cSo he sent for a man, and told him to build a pigpen right out by the\nwell, and have it all ready when he came home with his pig.\n\n\u201cHuldy she said she wished he might put a curb round the well out there,\nbecause in the dark, sometimes, a body might stumble into it; and the\nparson, he told him he might do that.\n\n\u201cWal, old Aikin, the carpenter, he didn\u2019t come till most the middle of\nthe arternoon; and then he sort o\u2019 idled, so that he didn\u2019t get up the\nwell-curb till sundown; and then he went off and said he\u2019d come and do\nthe pig-pen next day.\n\n\u201cWal, arter dark, Parson Carryl he driv into the yard, full chizel, with\nhis pig. He\u2019d tied up his mouth to keep him from squeelin\u2019; and he see\nwhat he thought was the pig-pen,--he was rather nearsighted,--and so he\nran and threw piggy over; and down he dropped into the water, and\nthe minister put out his horse and pranced off into the house quite\ndelighted.\n\n\u201c\u2018There, Huldy, I\u2019ve got you a nice little pig.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Dear me!\u2019 says Huldy: \u2019where have you put him?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, out there in the pig-pen, to be sure.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, dear me!\u2019 says Huldy: \u2018that\u2019s the well-curb; there ain\u2019t no\npig-pen built,\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201c\u2018Lordy massy!\u2019 says the parson: \u2018then I\u2019ve thrown the pig in the well!\u2019\n\n[Illustration: I\u2019ve thrown the pig in the well, Page 070]\n\n\u201cWal, Huldy she worked and worked, and finally she fished piggy out in\nthe bucket, but he was dead as a door-nail; and she got him out o\u2019 the\nway quietly, and didn\u2019t say much; and the parson, he took to a\ngreat Hebrew book in his study; and says he, \u2018Huldy, I ain\u2019t much in\ntemporals,\u2019 says he. Huldy says she kind o\u2019 felt her heart go out to\nhim, he was so sort o\u2019 meek and helpless and lamed; and says she, \u2018Wal,\nParson Carryl, don\u2019t trouble your head no more about it; I\u2019ll see\nto things;\u2019 and sure enough, a week arter there was a nice pen, all\nship-shape, and two little white pigs that Huldy bought with the money\nfor the butter she sold at the store.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, Huldy,\u2019 said the parson, \u2018you are a most amazin\u2019 child: you don\u2019t\nsay nothin\u2019 but you do more than most folks.\u2019\n\n\u201cArter that the parson set sich store by Huldy that he come to her and\nasked her about every thing, and it was amazin\u2019 how every thing she put\nher hand to prospered. Huldy planted marigolds and larkspurs, pinks and\ncarnations, all up and down the path to the front door, and trained\nup mornin\u2019 glories and scarlet-runners round the windows. And she\nwas always a gettin\u2019 a root here, and a sprig there, and a seed from\nsomebody else: for Huldy was one o\u2019 them that has the gift, so that ef\nyou jist give \u2019em the leastest sprig of any thing they make a great\nbush out of it right away; so that in six months Huldy had roses and\ngeraniums and lilies, sich as it would a took a gardener to raise. The\nparson, he took no notice at fust; but when the yard was all ablaze with\nflowers he used to come and stand in a kind o\u2019 maze at the front door,\nand say, \u2018Beautiful, beautiful: why, Huldy, I never see any thing like\nit.\u2019 And then when her work was done arternoons, Huldy would sit with\nher sewin\u2019 in the porch, and sing and trill away till she\u2019d draw the\nmeadow-larks and the bobolinks, and the orioles to answer her, and the\ngreat big elm-tree overhead would get perfectly rackety with the\nbirds; and the parson, settin\u2019 there in his study, would git to kind o\u2019\ndreamin\u2019 about the angels, and golden harps, and the New Jerusalem;\nbut he wouldn\u2019t speak a word, \u2019cause Huldy she was jist like them\nwood-thrushes, she never could sing so well when she thought folks was\nhearin\u2019. Folks noticed, about this time, that the parson\u2019s sermons got\nto be like Aaron\u2019s rod, that budded and blossomed: there was things\nin \u2019em about flowers and birds, and more \u2019special about the music o\u2019\nheaven. And Huldy she noticed, that ef there was a hymn run in her head\nwhile she was \u2019round a workin\u2019 the minister was sure to give it out next\nSunday. You see, Huldy was jist like a bee: she always sung when she was\nworkin\u2019, and you could hear her trillin\u2019, now down in the corn-patch,\nwhile she was pickin\u2019 the corn; and now in the buttery, while she was\nworkin\u2019 the butter; and now she\u2019d go singin\u2019 down cellar, and then she\u2019d\nbe singin\u2019 up over head, so that she seemed to fill a house chock full\no\u2019 music.\n\n\u201cHuldy was so sort o\u2019 chipper and fair spoken, that she got the hired\nmen all under her thumb: they come to her and took her orders jist\nas meek as so many calves; and she traded at the store, and kep\u2019 the\naccounts, and she hed her eyes everywhere, and tied up all the ends so\ntight that there want no gettin\u2019 \u2019round her. She wouldn\u2019t let nobody put\nnothin\u2019 off on Parson Carryl, \u2019cause he was a minister. Huldy was allers\nup to anybody that wanted to make a hard bargain; and, afore he knew\njist what he was about, she\u2019d got the best end of it, and everybody said\nthat Huldy was the most capable gal that they\u2019d ever traded with.\n\n\u201cWal, come to the meetin\u2019 of the Association, Mis\u2019 Deakin Blodgett and\nMis\u2019 Pipperidge come callin\u2019 up to the parson\u2019s, all in a stew, and\nofferin\u2019 their services to get the house ready; but the doctor, he jist\nthanked \u2019em quite quiet, and turned \u2019em over to Huldy; and Huldy she\ntold \u2019em that she\u2019d got every thing ready, and showed \u2019em her pantries,\nand her cakes and her pies and her puddin\u2019s, and took \u2019em all over the\nhouse; and they went peekin\u2019 and pokin\u2019, openin\u2019 cupboard-doors, and\nlookin\u2019 into drawers; and they couldn\u2019t find so much as a thread out o\u2019\nthe way, from garret to cellar, and so they went off quite discontented.\nArter that the women set a new trouble a brewin\u2019. Then they begun to\ntalk that it was a year now since Mis\u2019 Carryl died; and it r\u2019ally wasn\u2019t\nproper such a young gal to be stayin\u2019 there, who everybody could see was\na settin\u2019 her cap for the minister.\n\n\u201cMis\u2019 Pipperidge said, that, so long as she looked on Huldy as the hired\ngal, she hadn\u2019t thought much about it; but Huldy was railly takin\u2019 on\nairs as an equal, and appearin\u2019 as mistress o\u2019 the house in a way that\nwould make talk if it went on. And Mis\u2019 Pipperidge she driv \u2019round up to\nDeakin Abner Snow\u2019s, and down to Mis\u2019 \u2019Lijah Perry\u2019s, and asked them\nif they wasn\u2019t afraid that the way the parson and Huldy was a goin\u2019 on\nmight make talk. And they said they hadn\u2019t thought on\u2019t before, but now,\ncome to think on\u2019t, they was sure it would; and they all went and talked\nwith somebody else, and asked them if they didn\u2019t think it would make\ntalk. So come Sunday, between meetin\u2019s there warn\u2019t nothin\u2019 else talked\nabout; and Huldy saw folks a noddin\u2019 and a winkin\u2019, and a lookin\u2019 arter\nher, and she begun to feel drefful sort o\u2019 disagreeable. Finally Mis\u2019\nSawin she says to her, \u2019My dear, didn\u2019t you, never think folk would talk\nabout you and the minister?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018No: why should they?\u2019 says Huldy, quite innocent.\n\n\u201cWal, dear,\u2019 says she, \u2018I think it\u2019s a shame; but they say you\u2019re tryin\u2019\nto catch him, and that it\u2019s so bold and improper for you to be courtin\u2019\nof him right in his own house,--you know folks will talk,--I thought I\u2019d\ntell you \u2019cause I think so much of you,\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201cHuldy was a gal of spirit, and she despised the talk, but it made her\ndrefful uncomfortable; and when she got home at night she sat down in\nthe mor-nin\u2019-glory porch, quite quiet, and didn\u2019t sing a word.\n\n\u201cThe minister he had heard the same thing from one of his deakins that\nday; and, when he saw Huldy so kind o\u2019 silent, he says to her, \u2019Why\ndon\u2019t you sing, my child?\u2019\n\n\u201cHe hed a pleasant sort o\u2019 way with him, the minister had, and Huldy had\ngot to likin\u2019 to be with him; and it all come over her that perhaps\nshe ought to go away; and her throat kind o\u2019 filled up so she couldn\u2019t\nhardly speak; and, says she, \u2019I can\u2019t sing to-night.\u2019\n\n\u201cSays he, \u2019You don\u2019t know how much good you\u2019re singin\u2019 has done me, nor\nhow much good _you_ have done me in all ways, Huldy. I wish I knew how\nto show my gratitude.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018O sir!\u2019 says Huldy, \u2019_is_ it improper for me to be here?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018No, dear,\u2019 says the minister, \u2018but ill-natured folks will talk; but\nthere is one way we can stop it, Huldy--if you will marry me. You\u2019ll\nmake me very happy, and I\u2019ll do all I can to make you happy. Will you?\u2019\n\n\u201cWal, Huldy never told me jist what she said to the minister,--gals\nnever does give you the particulars of them \u2019are things jist as you\u2019d\nlike \u2019em,--only I know the upshot and the hull on\u2019t was, that Huldy she\ndid a consid\u2019able lot o\u2019 clear starchin\u2019 and ironin\u2019 the next two days;\nand the Friday o\u2019 next week the minister and she rode over together\nto Dr. Lothrop\u2019s in Old Town; and the doctor, he jist made \u2019em man and\nwife, \u2018spite of envy of the Jews,\u2019 as the hymn says. Wal, you\u2019d better\nbelieve there was a starin\u2019 and a wonderin\u2019 next Sunday mornin\u2019 when the\nsecond bell was a tollin\u2019, and the minister walked up the broad aisle\nwith Huldy, all in white, arm in arm with him, and he opened the\nminister\u2019s pew, and handed her in as if she was a princess; for, you\nsee, Parson Carryl come of a good family, and was a born gentleman, and\nhad a sort o\u2019 grand way o\u2019 bein\u2019 polite to women-folks. Wal, I guess\nthere was a rus\u2019lin\u2019 among the bunnets. Mis\u2019 Pipperidge gin a great\nbounce, like corn poppin\u2019 on a shovel, and her eyes glared through her\nglasses at Huldy as if they\u2019d a sot her afire; and everybody in the\nmeetin\u2019 house was a starin\u2019, I tell _yew_. But they couldn\u2019t none of\n\u2019em say nothin\u2019 agin Huldy\u2019s looks; for there wa\u2019n\u2019t a crimp nor a frill\nabout her that wa\u2019n\u2019t jis\u2019 _so_; and her frock was white as the driven\nsnow, and she had her bunnet all trimmed up with white ribbins; and\nall the fellows said the old doctor had stole a march, and got the\nhandsomest gal in the parish.\n\n\u201cWal, arter meetin\u2019 they all come \u2019round the parson and Huldy at the\ndoor, shakin\u2019 hands and laugh-in\u2019; for by that time they was about\nagreed that they\u2019d got to let putty well alone.\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, Parson Carryl,\u2019 says Mis\u2019 Deakin Blodgett, \u2018how you\u2019ve come it\nover us.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes,\u2019 says the parson, with a kind o\u2019 twinkle in his eye. \u2018I thought,\u2019\nsays he, \u2018as folks wanted to talk about Huldy and me, I\u2019d give \u2019em\nsomethin\u2019 wuth talkin\u2019 about.\u2019\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Tailpiece, Page 078]\n\n[Illustration: The Widow\u2019s Bandbox, Page 079]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIDOW\u2019S BANDBOX.\n\n\u201cLordy massy! Stick yer hat into the nor\u2019east, Horace, and see \u2019f ye\ncan\u2019t stop out this \u2019ere wind. I\u2019m e\u2019eny most used up with it.\u201d So spake\nSam Lawson, contemplating mournfully a new broad-brimmed straw hat in\nwhich my soul was rejoicing. It was the dripping end of a sour November\nafternoon, which closed up a \u201cspell o\u2019 weather\u201d that had been steadily\ndriving wind and rain for a week past; and we boys sought the shelter\nand solace of his shop, and, opening the door, let in the wind\naforesaid.\n\nSam had been all day in one of his periodical fits of desperate\nindustry. The smoke and sparks had been seen flying out of his\nshop-chimney in a frantic manner; and the blows of his hammer had\nresounded with a sort of feverish persistence, intermingled with a\ndoleful wailing of psalm-tunes of the most lugubrious description.\n\nThese fits of industry on Sam\u2019s part were an affliction to us boys,\nespecially when they happened to come on Saturday: for Sam was as much a\npart of our Saturday-afternoon calculations as if we had a regular deed\nof property in him; and we had been all day hanging round his shop,\nlooking in from time to time, in the vague hope that he would propose\nsomething to brighten up the dreary monotony of a holiday in which it\nhad been impossible to go anywhere or do any thing.\n\n\u201cSam, ain\u2019t you coming over to tell us some stories to-night?\u201d\n\n\u201cBless your soul and body, boys! life ain\u2019t made to be spent tellin\u2019\nstories. Why, I shall hev to be up here workin\u2019 till arter twelve\no\u2019clock,\u201d said Sam, who was suddenly possessed with a spirit of the most\naustere diligence. \u201cHere I be up to my neck in work,--things kind o\u2019\ncomin\u2019 in a heap together. There\u2019s Mis\u2019 Cap\u2019n Broad\u2019s andirons, she sent\nword she must have \u2019em to-night; and there\u2019s Lady Lothrop, she wants her\nwarmin\u2019-pan right off; they can\u2019t non\u2019 on \u2019em wait a minit longer. I\u2019ve\nben a drivin\u2019 and workin\u2019 all day like a nigger-slave. Then there was\nJeduth Pettybone, he brought down them colts to-day, and I worked the\nbiggest part o\u2019 the mornin\u2019 shoein\u2019 on \u2019em; and then Jeduth he said he\ncouldn\u2019t make change to pay me, so there wa\u2019n\u2019t nothin\u2019 comin\u2019 in for\n\u2019t; and then Hepsy she kep\u2019 a jawin\u2019 at me all dinner-time \u2019bout that.\nWhy, I warn\u2019t to blame now, was I? I can\u2019t make everybody do jest right\nand pay regular, can I? So ye see it goes, boys, gettin\u2019 yer bread by\nthe sweat o\u2019 your brow; and sometimes sweatin\u2019 and not gettin\u2019 yer\nbread. That \u2019ere\u2019s what I call the _cuss_, the \u2019riginal cuss, that come\non man for hearkenin\u2019 to the voice o\u2019 his wife,--that \u2019ere was what did\nit. It allers kind o\u2019 riles me up with Mother Eve when I think on\u2019t. The\nwomen hain\u2019t no bisness to fret as they do, \u2019cause they sot this \u2019ere\nstate o\u2019 things goin\u2019 in the fust place.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Sam, Aunt Lois and Aunt Nabby are both going over to Mis\u2019.\nMehitabel\u2019s to tea. Now, you just come over and eat supper with us and\ntell us a story, do.\u201d\n\n\u201cGone out to tea, be they?\u201d said Sam, relaxing his hammering, with a\nbrightening gleam stealing gradually across his lanky visage. \u201cWal, that\n\u2019ere looks like a providential openin\u2019, to be sure. Wal, I guess I\u2019ll\ncome. What\u2019s the use o\u2019 never havin\u2019 a good time? Ef you work yourself\nup into shoestrings you don\u2019t get no thanks for it, and things in this\nworld\u2019s \u2019bout as broad as they is long: the women \u2019ll scold, turn \u2019em\nwhich way ye will. A good mug o\u2019 cider and some cold victuals over to\nthe Dea-kin\u2019s \u2019ll kind o\u2019 comfort a feller up; and your granny she\u2019s\nsort o\u2019 merciful, she don\u2019t rub it into a fellow all the time like Miss\nLois.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, let\u2019s see, boys,\u201d said Sam, when a comfortable meal of pork and\nbeans had been disposed of, and a mug of cider was set down before the\nfire to warm. \u201cI s\u2019pect ye\u2019ll like to hear a Down-East story to-night.\u201d\n\nOf course we did, and tumbled over each other in our eagerness to get\nthe nearest place to the narrator.\n\nSam\u2019s method of telling a story was as leisurely as that of some modern\nnovel-writers. He would take his time for it, and proceed by easy\nstages. It was like the course of a dreamy, slow-moving river through a\ntangled meadow-flat,--not a rush nor a bush but was reflected in it; in\nshort, Sam gave his philosophy of matters and things in general as he\nwent along, and was especially careful to impress an edifying moral.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, boys, ye know I was born down to Newport,--there where\nit\u2019s all ships and shipping, and sich. My old mother she kep\u2019 a\nboardin\u2019-house for sailors down there. Wal, ye see, I rolled and tumbled\nround the world pretty consid\u2019able afore I got settled down here in\nOldtown.\n\n\u201cYe see, my mother she wanted to bind me out to a blacksmith, but I kind\no\u2019 sort o\u2019 didn\u2019t seem to take to it. It was kind o\u2019 hard work, and\nboys is apt to want to take life easy. Wal, I used to run off to the\nsea-shore, and lie stretched out on them rocks there, and look off on to\nthe water; and it did use to look so sort o\u2019 blue and peaceful, and the\nships come a sailin\u2019 in and out so sort o\u2019 easy and natural, that I felt\nas if that are\u2019d be jest the easiest kind o\u2019 life a fellow could have.\nAll he had to do was to get aboard one o\u2019 them ships, and be off seekin\u2019\nhis fortin at t\u2019other end o\u2019 the rainbow, where gold grows on bushes and\nthere\u2019s valleys o\u2019 diamonds.\n\n\u201cSo, nothin\u2019 would do but I gin my old mother the slip; and away I went\nto sea, with my duds tied up in a han\u2019kercher.\n\n\u201cI tell ye what, boys, ef ye want to find an easy life, don\u2019t ye never\ngo to sea. I tell ye, life on shipboard ain\u2019t what it looks to be on\nshore. I hadn\u2019t been aboard more\u2019n three hours afore I was the sickest\ncritter that ever ye did see; and I tell you, I didn\u2019t get no kind o\u2019\ncompassion. Cap\u2019ns and mates they allers thinks boys hain\u2019t no kind o\u2019\nbusiness to have no bowels nor nothin\u2019, and they put it on \u2019em sick or\nwell. It\u2019s jest a kick here, and a cuff there, and a twitch by the ear\nin t\u2019other place; one a shovin\u2019 on \u2019em this way, and another hittin\u2019 on\n\u2019em a clip, and all growlin\u2019 from mornin\u2019 to night. I believe the way my\nears got so long was bein\u2019 hauled out o\u2019 my berth by \u2019em: that \u2019are\u2019s a\nsailor\u2019s regular way o\u2019 wakin\u2019 up a boy.\n\n\u201cWal, by time I got to the Penobscot country, all I wanted to know was\nhow to get back agin. That \u2019are\u2019s jest the way folks go all their lives,\nboys. It\u2019s all fuss, fuss, and stew, stew, till ye get somewhere; and\nthen it\u2019s fuss, fuss, and stew, stew, to get back agin; jump here and\nscratch yer eyes out, and jump there and scratch \u2019em in agin,--that\n\u2019are\u2019s life.\n\n\u201cWal, I kind o\u2019 poked round in Penobscot country till I got a berth on\n\u2019The Brilliant\u2019 that was lyin\u2019 at Camden, goin\u2019 to sail to Boston.\n\n\u201cYe see, \u2018The Brilliant\u2019 she was a tight little sloop in the government\nservice: \u2019twas in the war-times, ye see, and Commodore Tucker that is\nnow (he was Cap\u2019n Tucker then), he had the command on her,--used to\nrun up and down all the coast takin\u2019 observations o\u2019 the British, and\nkeepin\u2019 his eye out on \u2019em, and givin\u2019 on \u2019em a nip here and a clip\nthere,\u2019 cordin\u2019 as he got a good chance. Why, your grand\u2019ther knew old\nCommodore Tucker. It was he that took Dr. Franklin over Minister, to\nFrance, and dodged all the British vessels, right in the middle o\u2019\nthe war. I tell you that \u2019are was like runnin\u2019 through the drops in a\nthunder-shower. He got chased by the British ships pretty consid\u2019able,\nbut he was too spry for \u2019em. Arter the war was over, Commodore Tucker\ntook over John Adams, our fust Minister to England. A drefful smart man\nthe Commodore was, but he most like to \u2019a\u2019 ben took in this \u2019ere time\nI\u2019m a tellin\u2019 ye about, and all \u2019cause he was sort o\u2019 softhearted to the\nwomen. Tom Toothacre told me the story. Tom he was the one that got me\nthe berth on the ship. Ye see, I used to know Tom at Newport; and once\nwhen he took sick there my mother nussed him up, and that was why Tom\nwas friends with me and got me the berth, and kep\u2019 me warm in it too.\nTom he was one of your rael Maine boys, that\u2019s hatched out, so to speak,\nin water like ducks. He was born away down there on Harpswell P\u2019int; and\nthey say, if ye throw one o\u2019 them Harpswell babies into the sea, he\u2019ll\ntake to it nateral, and swim like a cork: ef they hit their heads agin a\nrock it only dents the rock, but don\u2019t hurt the baby. Tom he was a great\ncharacter on the ship. He could see farther, and knew more \u2019bout wind\nand water, than most folks: the officers took Tom\u2019s judgment, and the\nmen all went by his say. My mother she chalked a streak o\u2019 good luck for\nme when she nussed up Tom.\n\n\u201cWal, we wus a lyin\u2019 at Camden there, one arternoon, goin\u2019 to sail for\nBoston that night. It was a sort o\u2019 soft, pleasant arternoon, kind\no\u2019 still, and there wa\u2019n\u2019t nothin\u2019 a goin\u2019 on but jest the hens a\ncraw-crawin\u2019, and a histin\u2019 up one foot, and holdin\u2019 it a spell \u2019cause\nthey didn\u2019t know when to set it down, and the geese a sissin\u2019 and a\npickin\u2019 at the grass. Ye see, Camden wasn\u2019t nothin\u2019 of a place,--\u2018twas\njest as if somebody had emptied out a pocketful o\u2019 houses and forgot\n\u2019em. There wer\u2019n\u2019t nothin\u2019 a stirrin\u2019 or goin\u2019 on; and so we was all\ntook aback, when \u2019bout four o\u2019clock in the arternoon there come a\nboat alongside, with a tall, elegant lady in it, all dressed in deep\nmournin\u2019. She rared up sort o\u2019 princess-like, and come aboard our ship,\nand wanted to speak to Cap\u2019n Tucker. Where she come from, or what she\nwanted, or where she was goin\u2019 to, we none on us knew: she kep\u2019 her veil\ndown so we couldn\u2019t get sight o\u2019 her face. All was, she must see Cap\u2019n\nTucker alone right away.\n\n\u201cWal, Cap\u2019n Tucker he was like the generality o\u2019 cap\u2019ns. He was up to\n\u2019bout every thing that any _man_ could do, but it was pretty easy for a\nwoman to come it over him. Ye see, cap\u2019ns, they don\u2019t see women as men\ndo ashore. They don\u2019t have enough of \u2019em to get tired on \u2019em; and every\nwoman\u2019s an angel to a sea-cap\u2019n. Anyway, the cap\u2019n he took her into his\ncabin, and he sot her a chair, and was her humble servant to command,\nand what would she have of him? And we was all a winkin\u2019, and a nudgin\u2019\neach other, and a peekin\u2019 to see what was to come o\u2019 it. And she see\nit; and so she asks, in a sort o\u2019 princess\u2019 way, to speak to the cap\u2019n\nalone; and so the doors was shut, and we was left to our own ideas, and\na wonderin\u2019 what it was all to be about.\n\n\u201cWal, you see, it come out arterwards all about what went on; and things\nwent this way. Jest as soon as the doors was shut, and she was left\nalone with the cap\u2019n, she busted out a cryin\u2019 and a sobbin\u2019 fit to break\nher heart.\n\n\u201cWal, the cap\u2019n he tried to comfort her up: but no, she wouldn\u2019t be\ncomforted, but went on a weepin\u2019 and a wailin\u2019, and a wringin\u2019 on her\nhands, till the poor cap\u2019n\u2019s heart was a\u2019most broke; for the cap\u2019n was\nthe tenderest-hearted critter that could be, and couldn\u2019t bear to see a\nchild or a woman in trouble noways.\n\n\u201c\u2018O cap\u2019n!\u2019 said she, \u2018I\u2019m the most unfortunate woman. I\u2019m all alone\nin the world,\u2019 says she, \u2018and I don\u2019t know what\u2019ll become of me ef you\ndon\u2019t keep me,\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201cWal, the cap\u2019n thought it was time to run up his colors; and so says\nhe, \u2018Ma\u2019am, I\u2019m a married man, and love my wife,\u2019 says he, \u2018and so I can\nfeel for all women in distress,\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, well, then!\u2019 says she, \u2018you can feel for me, and know how to pity\nme. My dear husband\u2019s just died suddenly when he was up the river. He\nwas took with the fever in the woods. I nussed him day and night,\u2019\nsays she; \u2018but he died there in a mis\u2019able little hut far from home\nand friends,\u2019 says she; \u2018and I\u2019ve brought his body down with me, hopin\u2019\nProvidence would open some way to get it back to our home in Boston. And\nnow, cap\u2019n, you must help me.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen the cap\u2019n see what she was up to: and he hated to do it, and tried\nto cut her off o\u2019 askin\u2019; but she wa\u2019n\u2019t to be put off.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now, cap\u2019n,\u2019 says she, \u2018\u2019ef you\u2019ll take me and the body o\u2019 my husband\non board to-night, I\u2019d be willin\u2019 to reward you to any amount. Money\nwould be no object to me,\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201cWal, you see, the cap\u2019n he kind o\u2019 hated to do it; and he hemmed and\nhawed, and he tried to \u2019pologize. He said \u2019twas a government vessel, and\nhe didn\u2019t know as he had a right to use it. He said sailors was apt to\nbe superstitious; and he didn\u2019t want \u2019em to know as there was a corpse\non board.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says she, \u2018why need they know? \u2019For, you see, she was up to\nevery dodge; and she said she\u2019d come along with it at dusk, in a box,\nand have it just carried to a state-room, and he needn\u2019t tell nobody\nwhat it was.\n\n\u201cWal, Cap\u2019n Tucker he hung off; and he tried his best to persuade her\nto have a funeral, all quiet, there at Camden. He promised to get a\nminister, and \u2019tend to it, and wait a day till it was all over, and then\ntake her on to Boston free gratis. But \u2019twas all no go. She wouldn\u2019t\nhear a word to \u2019t. And she reeled off the talk to him by the yard. And,\nwhen talk failed, she took to her water-works again, till finally the\ncap\u2019n said his resolution was clean washed away, and he jest give up\nhook and line; and so \u2019twas all settled and arranged, that, when evening\ncome, she was to be alongside with her boat, and took aboard.\n\n\u201cWhen she come out o\u2019 the cap\u2019n\u2019s room to go off, I see Tom Toothacre a\nwatchin\u2019 on her. He stood there by the railin\u2019s a shavin\u2019 up a plug o\u2019\nbaccy to put in his pipe. He didn\u2019t say a word; but he sort o\u2019 took the\nmeasure o\u2019 that \u2019are woman with his eye, and kept a follerin\u2019 on her.\n\n\u201cShe had a fine sort o\u2019 lively look, carried her head up and shoulders\nback, and stepped as if she had steel springs in her heels.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, Tom, what do ye say to her?\u2019 says Ben Bowdin.\n\n\u201c\u2018I don\u2019t _say_ nothin\u2019,\u2019 says Tom, and he lit his pipe; \u2018\u2019tain\u2019t _my_\nbusness,\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, what do you _think?_\u2019 says Ben. Tom gin a hist to his trousers.\n\n\u201c\u2018My thoughts is my own,\u2019 says he; \u2018and I calculate to keep \u2019em to\nmyself,\u2019 says he. And then he jest walked to the side of the vessel, and\nwatched the woman a gettin\u2019 ashore. There was a queer kind o\u2019 look in\nTom\u2019s eye.\n\n\u201cWal, the cap\u2019n he was drefful sort o\u2019 oneasy arter she was gone. He had\na long talk in the cabin with Mr. More, the fust officer; and there was\na sort o\u2019 stir aboard as if somethin\u2019 was a goin\u2019 to happen, we couldn\u2019t\njest say what it was.\n\n\u201cSometimes it seems as if, when things is goin\u2019 to happen, a body kind\no\u2019 feels \u2019em comin\u2019 in the air. We boys was all that way: o\u2019 course we\ndidn\u2019t know nothin\u2019 \u2019bout what the woman wanted, or what she come for,\nor whether she was comin\u2019 agin; \u2019n fact, we didn\u2019t know nothin\u2019 about\nit, and yet we sort o\u2019 expected suthin\u2019 to come o\u2019 it; and suthin\u2019 did\ncome, sure enough.\n\n\u201cCome on night, jest at dusk, we see a boat comin\u2019 alongside; and there,\nsure enough, was the lady in it.\n\n\u201c\u2018There, she\u2019s comin\u2019 agin,\u2019 says I to Tom Tooth-acre.\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, and brought her baggage with her,\u2019 says Tom; and he p\u2019inted down\nto a long, narrow pine box that was in the boat beside her.\n\n\u201cJest then the cap\u2019n called on Mr. More, and he called on Tom Toothacre;\nand among \u2019em they lowered a tackle, and swung the box aboard, and put\nit in the state-room right alongside the cap\u2019n\u2019s cabin.\n\n\u201cThe lady she thanked the cap\u2019n and Mr. More, and her voice was jest as\nsweet as any nightingale; and she went into the state-room arter they\nput the body in, and was gone ever so long with it. The cap\u2019n and Mr.\nMore they stood a whisperin\u2019 to each other, and every once in a while\nthey\u2019d kind o\u2019 nod at the door where the lady was.\n\n\u201cWal, by and by she come out with her han\u2019ker-chief to her eyes, and\ncome on deck, and begun talk-in\u2019 to the cap\u2019n and Mr. More, and a\nwishin\u2019 all kinds o\u2019 blessin\u2019s on their heads.\n\n\u201cWal, Tom Toothacre didn\u2019t say a word, good or bad; but he jest kep\u2019\na lookin\u2019 at her, watchin\u2019 her as a cat watches a mouse. Finally we up\nsail, and started with a fair breeze. The lady she kep\u2019 a walkin\u2019 up and\ndown, up and down, and every time she turned on her heel, I saw Tom a\nlookin\u2019 arter her and kind o\u2019 noddin\u2019 to himself.\n\n\u201c\u2018What makes you look arter her so, Tom?\u2019 says I to him.\n\n\u201c\u2018\u2019Cause I think she _wants_ lookin\u2019 arter,\u2019 says Tom. \u2018What\u2019s more,\u2019\nsays he, \u2018if the cap\u2019n don\u2019t look sharp arter her the devil \u2019ll have\nus all afore mornin.\u2019 I tell ye, Sam, there\u2019s mischief under them\npetticuts.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, what do ye think?\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201c\u2018Think! I don\u2019t think, I knows! That \u2019are\u2019s no gal, nor widder neither,\nif my name\u2019s Tom Tooth-acre! Look at her walk; look at the way she turns\non her heel I I\u2019ve been a watchin\u2019 on her. There ain\u2019t no woman livin\u2019\nwith a step like that!\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, who should the critter be, then?\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says Tom, \u2018\u2019ef that \u2019are ain\u2019t a British naval officer, I lose\nmy bet. I\u2019ve been used to the ways on \u2019em, and I knows their build and\ntheir step.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018And what do you suppose she\u2019s got in that long box?\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201c\u2018What has she got?\u2019 says Tom. \u2018Wal, folks might say none o\u2019 my bisness;\nbut I s\u2019pects it\u2019ll turn out some o\u2019 my bisness, and yourn too, if\nhe don\u2019t look sharp arter it,\u2019 says Tom. \u2018It\u2019s no good, that \u2019are box\nain\u2019t.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Why don\u2019t you speak to Mr. More?\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, you see she\u2019s a chipperin\u2019 round and a mak-in\u2019 herself agreeable\nto both on \u2019em, you see; she don\u2019t mean to give nobody any chance for\na talk with \u2019em; but I\u2019ve got my eye on her, for all that. You see I\nhain\u2019t no sort o\u2019 disposition to sarve out a time on one o\u2019 them British\nprison-ships,\u2019 says Tom Toothacre. \u2018It might be almighty handy for them\nBritish to have \u201cThe Brilliant\u201d for a coast-vessel,\u2019 says he; \u2018but, ye\nsee, it can\u2019t be spared jest yet. So, madam,\u2019 says he, \u2019I\u2019ve got my eye\non you.\u2019\n\n\u201cWal, Tom was as good as his word; for when Mr. More came towards him\nat the wheel, Tom he up and says to him, \u2018Mr. More,\u2019 says he, \u2018that \u2019are\nbig box in the state-room yonder wants lookin\u2019 into.\u2019\n\n\u201cTom was a sort o\u2019 privileged character, and had a way o\u2019 speakin\u2019 up\nthat the officers took in good part, \u2019cause they knew he was a fust-rate\nhand.\n\n\u201cWal, Mr. More he looks mysterious; and says he, Tom, do the boys know\nwhat\u2019s in that \u2019are box?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I bet they don\u2019t,\u2019 says Tom. \u2018If they had, you wouldn\u2019t a got \u2019em to\nhelp it aboard.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, you see, poor woman,\u2019 says Mr. More to Tom, \u2018she was so\ndistressed. She wanted to get her husband\u2019s body to Boston; and there\nwa\u2019n\u2019t no other way, and so the cap\u2019n let it come aboard. He didn\u2019t want\nthe boys to suspect what it really Was.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Husband\u2019s body be hanged!\u2019 said Tom. \u2018Guess that \u2019are corpse ain\u2019t\nso dead but what there\u2019ll be a resurrection afore mornin\u2019, if it ain\u2019t\nlooked arter,\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, what do you mean, Tom?\u2019 said Mr. More, all in a blue maze.\n\n\u201c\u2018I mean, that \u2019are gal that\u2019s ben a switchin\u2019 her petticuts up and down\nour deck ain\u2019t no gal at all. That \u2019are\u2019s a British officer, Mr. More.\nYou give my duty to the cap\u2019n, and tell him to look into his widder\u2019s\nbandbox, and see what he\u2019ll find there.\u2019\n\n\u201cWal, the mate he went and had a talk with the cap\u2019n; and they \u2019greed\nbetween \u2019em that Mr. More was to hold her in talk while the cap\u2019n went\nand took observations in the state-room.\n\n\u201cSo, down the cap\u2019n goes into the state-room to give a look at the box.\nWal, he finds the stateroom door all locked to be sure, and my lady had\nthe key in her pocket; but then the cap\u2019n he had a master key to it; and\nso he puts it in, and opens the door quite softly, and begins to take\nobservations.\n\n\u201cSure enough, he finds that the screws had been drawed from the top o\u2019\nthe box, showin\u2019 that the widder had been a tinkerin\u2019 on\u2019t when they\nthought she was a cryin\u2019 over it; and then, lookin\u2019 close, he sees a\nbit o\u2019 twine goin\u2019 from a crack in the box out o\u2019 the winder, and up on\ndeck.\n\n\u201cWal, the cap\u2019n he kind o\u2019 got in the sperit o\u2019 the thing; and he\nthought he\u2019d jest let the widder play her play out, and see what it\nwould come to. So he jest calls Tom Toothacre down to him and whispered\nto him. \u2018Tom,\u2019 says he, \u2018you jest crawl under the berth in that \u2019are\nstate-room, and watch that \u2019are box.\u2019 And Tom said he would.\n\n\u201cSo Tom creeps under the berth, and lies there still as a mouse; and\nthe cap\u2019n he slips out and turns the key in the door, so that when madam\ncomes down she shouldn\u2019t s\u2019pect nothin\u2019.\n\n\u201cPutty soon, sure enough, Tom heard the lock rattle, and the young\nwidder come in; and then he heard a bit o\u2019 conversation between her and\nthe corpse.\n\n\u201c\u2018What time is it?\u2019 come in a kind o\u2019 hoarse whisper out o\u2019 the box.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, \u2019bout nine o\u2019clock,\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201c\u2018How long afore you\u2019ll let me out?\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh I you must have patience,\u2019 says she, \u2018till they\u2019re all gone off to\nsleep; when there ain\u2019t but one man up. I can knock him down,\u2019 says she,\n\u2018and then I\u2019ll pull the string for you.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The devil you will, ma\u2019am!\u2019 says Tom to himself, under the berth.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, it\u2019s darned close here,\u2019 says the fellow in the box. He didn\u2019t\nsay darned, boys; but he said a wickeder word that I can\u2019t repeat,\nnoways,\u201d said Sam, in a parenthesis: \u201cthese \u2019ere British officers was\ndrefful swearin\u2019 critters.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018You must have patience a while longer,\u2019 says the lady, \u2018till I pull\nthe string.\u2019 Tom Toothacre lay there on his back a laughin\u2019.\n\n\u201c\u2018Is every thing goin\u2019 on right?\u2019 says the man in the box.\n\n\u201c\u2018All straight,\u2019 says she: \u2018there don\u2019t none of \u2019em suspect.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You bet,\u2019 says Tom Toothacre, under the berth; and he said he had the\ngreatest mind to catch the critter by the feet as she was a standin\u2019\nthere, but somehow thought it would be better fun to see the thing\nthrough \u2019cording as they\u2019d planned it.\n\n\u201cWal, then she went off switchin\u2019 and mincin\u2019 up to the deck agin, and a\nflirtin\u2019 with the cap\u2019n; for you see \u2019twas \u2019greed to let \u2019em play their\nplay out.\n\n\u201cWal, Tom he lay there a waitin\u2019; and he waited and waited and waited,\ntill he \u2019most got asleep; but finally he heard a stirrin\u2019 in the box,\nas if the fellah was a gettin\u2019 up. Tom he jest crawled out still and\nkerful, and stood-up tight agin the wall. Putty soon he hears a grunt,\nand he sees the top o\u2019 the box a risin\u2019 up, and a man jest gettin\u2019 out\non\u2019t mighty still.\n\n\u201cWal, Tom he waited till he got fairly out on to the floor, and had his\nhand on the lock o\u2019 the door, when he jumps on him, and puts both arms\nround him, and gin him a regular bear\u2019s hug.\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, what\u2019s this?\u2019 says the man.\n\n\u201c\u2018Guess ye\u2019ll find out, darn ye,\u2019 says Tom Tooth-acre. \u2018So, ye wanted\nour ship, did ye? Wal, ye jest can\u2019t have our ship,\u2019 says Tom, says he;\nand I tell you he jest run that \u2019are fellow up stairs lickety-split, for\nTom was strong as a giant.\n\n\u201cThe fust thing they saw was Mr. More hed got the widder by both arms,\nand was tying on \u2019em behind her. \u2018Ye see, madam, your game\u2019s up,\u2019 says\nMr. More, \u2018but we\u2019ll give ye a free passage to Boston, tho\u2019,\u2019 says\nhe: \u2018we wanted a couple o\u2019 prisoners about these days, and you\u2019ll do\nnicely.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe fellers they was putty chopfallen, to be sure, and the one in\nwomen\u2019s clothes \u2019specially: \u2019cause when he was found out, he felt\nfoolish enough in his petticuts; but they was both took to Boston, and\ngiven over as prisoners.\n\n\u201cYe see, come to look into matters, they found these two young fellows,\nBritish officers, had formed a regular plot to take Cap\u2019n Tucker\u2019s\nvessel, and run it into Halifax; and ye see, Cap\u2019n Tucker he was so\nsort o\u2019 spry, and knew all the Maine coast so well, and was so \u2019cute at\ndodgin\u2019 in and out all them little bays and creeks and places all \u2019long\nshore, that he made the British considerable trouble, \u2019cause wherever\nthey didn\u2019t want him, that\u2019s where he was sure to be.\n\n\u201cSo they\u2019d hatched up this \u2019ere plan. There was one or two British\nsailors had been and shipped aboard \u2019The Brilliant\u2019 a week or two\naforehand, and \u2019twas suspected they was to have helped in the plot if\nthngs had gone as they laid out; but I tell you, when the fellows see\nwhich way the cat jumped, they took pretty good care to say that they\nhadn\u2019t nothin\u2019 to do with it. Oh, no, by no manner o\u2019 means! Wal, o\u2019\ncourse, ye know, it couldn\u2019t be proved on \u2019em, and so we let it go.\n\n\u201cBut I tell you, Cap\u2019n Tucker he felt pretty cheap about his widder. The\nworst on\u2019t was, they do say Ma\u2019am Tucker got hold of it; and you might\nknow if a woman got hold of a thing like that she\u2019d use it as handy as a\ncat would her claws. The women they can\u2019t no more help hittin\u2019 a fellow\na clip and a rap when they\u2019ve fairly got him, than a cat when she\u2019s\nketched a mouse; and so I shouldn\u2019t wonder if the Commodore heard\nsomething about his widder every time he went home from his v\u2019y-ages the\nlongest day he had to live. I don\u2019t know nothin\u2019 \u2019bout it, ye know: I\nonly kind o\u2019 jedge by what looks, as human natur\u2019 goes.\n\n\u201cBut, Lordy massy! boys, \u2019t wa\u2019n\u2019t nothin\u2019 to be \u2019shamed of in the\ncap\u2019n. Folks \u2019ll have to answer for wus things at the last day than\ntryin\u2019 to do a kindness to a poor widder, now, I tell _you_. It\u2019s better\nto be took in doin\u2019 a good thing, than never try to do good; and it\u2019s my\nsettled opinion,\u201d said Sam, taking up his mug of cider and caressing it\ntenderly, \u201cit\u2019s my humble opinion, that the best sort o\u2019 folks is the\neasiest took in, \u2019specially by the women. I reely don\u2019t think I should a\ndone a bit better myself.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Tailpiece, Page 102]\n\n[Illustration: Captain Kidd\u2019s Money, Page 108]\n\n\n\n\nCAPTAIN KIDD\u2019S MONEY.\n\nOne of our most favorite legendary resorts was the old barn. Sam Lawson\npreferred it on many accounts. It was quiet and retired, that is to say,\nat such distance from his own house, that he could not hear if Hepsy\ncalled ever so loudly, and farther off than it would be convenient for\nthat industrious and painstaking woman to follow him. Then there was\nthe soft fragrant cushion of hay, on which his length of limb could be\neasily bestowed. Our barn had an upper loft with a swinging outer door\nthat commanded a view of the old mill, the waterfall, and the distant\nwindings of the river, with its grassy green banks, its graceful elm\ndraperies, and its white flocks of water-lilies; and then on this\nSaturday afternoon we had Sam all to ourselves. It was a drowsy, dreamy\nOctober day, when the hens were lazily \u201ccraw, crawing,\u201d in a soft,\nconversational undertone with each other, as they scratched and picked\nthe hay-seed under the barn windows. Below in the barn black C\u00e6sar sat\nquietly hatchelling flax, sometimes gurgling and giggling to himself\nwith an overflow of that interior jollity with which he seemed to\nbe always full. The African in New England was a curious contrast to\neverybody around him in the joy and satisfaction that he seemed to feel\nin the mere fact of being alive. Every white person was glad or sorry\nfor some appreciable cause in the past, present, or future, which was\ncapable of being definitely stated; but black C\u00e6sar was in an eternal\ngiggle and frizzle and simmer of enjoyment for which he could give no\nearthly reason: he was an \u201cembodied joy,\u201d like Shelley\u2019s skylark.\n\n\u201cJest hear him,\u201d said Sam Lawson, looking pensively over the hay-mow,\nand strewing hayseed down on his wool. \u201cHow that \u2019are critter seems to\ntickle and laugh all the while \u2019bout nothin\u2019. Lordy massy! he don\u2019t seem\nnever to consider that \u2019this life\u2019s a dream, an empty show.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cLook here, Sam,\u201d we broke in, anxious to cut short a threatened stream\nof morality, \u201cyou promised to tell us about Capt. Kidd, and how you dug\nfor his money.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid I, now? Wal, boys, that \u2019are history o\u2019 Kidd\u2019s is a warnin\u2019 to\nfellers. Why, Kidd had pious parents and Bible and sanctuary privileges\nwhen he was a boy, and yet come to be hanged. It\u2019s all in this \u2019ere\nsong I\u2019m a goin\u2019 to sing ye. Lordy massy! I wish I had my bass-viol\nnow.--C\u00e6sar,\u201d he said, calling down from his perch, \u201ccan\u2019t you strike\nthe pitch o\u2019 \u2018Cap\u2019n Kidd,\u2019 on your fiddle?\u201d\n\nC\u00e6sar\u2019s fiddle was never far from him. It was, in fact, tucked away in\na nice little nook just over the manger; and he often caught an interval\nfrom his work to scrape a dancing-tune on it, keeping time with his\nheels, to our great delight.\n\nA most wailing minor-keyed tune was doled forth, which seemed quite\nrefreshing to Sam\u2019s pathetic vein, as he sang in his most lugubrious\ntones,--\n\n     \u201c\u2018My name was Robert Kidd\n         As I sailed, as I sailed,\n     My name was Robert Kidd;\n     God\u2019s laws I did forbid,\n     And so wickedly I did,\n         As I sailed, as I sailed.\u2019\n\n\u201cNow ye see, boys, he\u2019s a goin\u2019 to tell how he abused his religious\nprivileges; just hear now:--\n\n     \u201c\u2018My father taught me well,\n         As I sailed, as I sailed;\n     My father taught me well\n     To shun the gates of hell,\n     But yet I did rebel,\n         As I sailed, as I sailed.\n\n     \u201c\u2018He put a Bible in my hand,\n         As I sailed, as I sailed;\n     He put a Bible in my hand,\n     And I sunk it in the sand\n     Before I left the strand,\n         As I sailed, as I sailed.\u2019\n\n\u201cDid ye ever hear o\u2019 such a hardened, contrary critter, boys? It\u2019s awful\nto think on. Wal, ye see that \u2019are\u2019s the way fellers allers begin the\nways o\u2019 sin, by turnin\u2019 their backs on the Bible and the advice o\u2019 pious\nparents. Now hear what he come to:--\n\n     \u201c\u2018Then I murdered William More,\n         As I sailed, as I sailed;\n     I murdered William More,\n     And left him in his gore,\n     Not many leagues from shore,\n         As I sailed, as I sailed.\n\n     \u201c\u2018To execution dock\n         I must go, I must go.\n     To execution dock,\n     While thousands round me flock,\n     To see me on the block,\n         I must go, I must go.\u2019\n\n\u201cThere was a good deal more on\u2019t,\u201d said Sam, pausing, \u201cbut I don\u2019t seem\nto remember it; but it\u2019s real solemn and affectin\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho was Capt. Kidd, Sam?\u201d said I.\n\n\u201cWal, he was an officer in the British navy, and he got to bein\u2019 a\npirate: used to take ships and sink \u2019em, and murder the folks; and so\nthey say he got no end o\u2019 money,--gold and silver and precious stones,\nas many as the wise men in the East. But ye see, what good did it all do\nhim? He couldn\u2019t use it, and dar\u2019sn\u2019t keep it; so he used to bury it in\nspots round here and there in the awfullest heathen way ye ever heard\nof. Why, they say he allers used to kill one or two men or women or\nchildren of his prisoners, and bury with it, so that their sperits might\nkeep watch on it ef anybody was to dig arter it. That \u2019are thing has\nbeen tried and tried and tried, but no man nor mother\u2019s son on \u2019em ever\ngot a cent that dug. \u2019Twas tried here\u2019n Oldtown; and they come pretty\nnigh gettin\u2019 on\u2019t, but it gin \u2019em the slip. Ye see, boys, _it\u2019s the\nDevil\u2019s money, and he holds a pretty tight grip on\u2019t_.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, how was it about digging for it? Tell us, did _you_ do it? Were\n_you_ there? Did you see it? And why couldn\u2019t they get it?\u201d we both\nasked eagerly and in one breath.\n\n\u201cWhy, Lordy massy! boys, your questions tumbles over each other thick\nas martins out o\u2019 a martin-box. Now, you jest be moderate and let alone,\nand I\u2019ll tell you all about it from the beginnin\u2019 to the end. I didn\u2019t\nrailly have no hand in\u2019t, though I was know-in\u2019 to \u2019t, as I be to most\nthings that goes on round here; but my conscience wouldn\u2019t railly a let\nme start on no sich undertakin\u2019.\n\n\u201cWal, the one that fust sot the thing a goin\u2019 was old Mother Hokum, that\nused to live up in that little tumble-down shed by the cranberry-pond up\nbeyond the spring pastur\u2019. They had a putty bad name, them Hokums. How\nthey got a livin\u2019 nobody knew; for they didn\u2019t seem to pay no attention\nto raisin\u2019 nothin\u2019 but childun, but the duce knows, there was plenty o\u2019\nthem. Their old hut was like a rabbit-pen: there was a tow-head to every\ncrack and cranny. \u2019Member what old C\u00e6sar said once when the word come\nto the store that old Hokum had got twins. \u2018S\u2019pose de Lord knows best,\u2019\nsays C\u00e6sar, \u2018but I thought dere was Hokums enough afore.\u2019 Wal, even poor\nworkin\u2019 industrious folks like me finds it\u2019s hard gettin\u2019 along when\nthere\u2019s so many mouths to feed. Lordy massy! there don\u2019t never seem to\nbe no end on\u2019t, and so it ain\u2019t wonderful, come to think on\u2019t, ef folks\nlike them Hokums gets tempted to help along in ways that ain\u2019t quite,\nright. Anyhow, folks did use to think that old Hokum was too sort o\u2019\nfamiliar with their wood-piles \u2019long in the night, though they couldn\u2019t\nnever prove it on him; and when Mother Hokum come to houses round to\nwash, folks use sometimes to miss pieces, here and there, though they\nnever could find \u2019em on her; then they was allers a gettin\u2019 in debt here\nand a gottin\u2019 in debt there. Why, they got to owin\u2019 two dollars to Joe\nGidger for butcher\u2019s meat. Joe was sort o\u2019 good-natured and let \u2019em have\nmeat, \u2019cause Hokum he promised so fair to pay; but he couldn\u2019t never get\nit out o\u2019 him. \u2019Member once Joe walked clear up to the cranberry-pond\nartor that \u2019are two dollars; but Mother Hokum she see him a comin\u2019 jest\nas he come past the juniper-bush on the corner. She says to Hokum, \u2018Get\ninto bed, old man, quick, and let me tell the story,\u2019 says she. So she\ncovered him up; and when Gidger come in she come up to him, and says\nshe, \u2018Why, Mr. Gidger, I\u2019m jest ashamed to see yo: why, Mr. Hokum was\njest a comin\u2019 down to pay yo that \u2019are money last week, but ye see\nhe was took down with the small-pox\u2019--Joe didn\u2019t hear no mow: he\njust turned round, and he streaked it out that \u2019are door with his\ncoat-tails flyin\u2019 out straight ahind him; and old Mother Hokum she jest\nstood at the window holdin\u2019 her sides and laughin\u2019 fit to split, to see\nhim run. That \u2019are\u2019s jest a sample o\u2019 the ways them Hokums cut up.\n\n\u201cWal, you see, boys, there\u2019s a queer kind o\u2019 rock down on the bank \u2019o\nthe river, that looks sort o\u2019 like a grave-stone. The biggest part\non\u2019t is sunk down under ground, and it\u2019s pretty well growed over with\nblackberry-vines; but, when you scratch the bushes away, they used to\nmake out some queer marks on that \u2019are rock. They was sort o\u2019 lines and\ncrosses; and folks would have it that them was Kidd\u2019s private marks, and\nthat there was one o\u2019 the places where he hid his money.\n\n\u201cWal, there\u2019s no sayin\u2019 fairly how it come to be thought so; but fellers\nused to say so, and they used sometimes to talk it over to the tahvern,\nand kind o\u2019 wonder whether or no, if they should dig, they wouldn\u2019t come\nto suthin\u2019.\n\n\u201cWal, old Mother Hokum she heard on\u2019t, and she was a sort o\u2019\nenterprisin\u2019 old crittur: fact was, she had to be, \u2019cause the young\nHokums was jest like bag-worms, the more they growed the more they eat,\nand I expect she found it pretty hard to fill their mouths; and so she\nsaid ef there _was_ any thing under that \u2019are rock, they\u2019d as good\u2019s\nhave it as the Devil; and so she didn\u2019t give old Hokum no peace o\u2019 his\nlife, but he must see what there was there.\n\n\u201cWal, I was with \u2019em the night they was a talk-in\u2019 on\u2019t up. Ye see,\nHokum he got thirty-seven cents\u2019 worth o\u2019 lemons and sperit. I see him\ngoin\u2019 by as I was out a splittin\u2019 kindlin\u2019s; and says he, \u2018Sam, you jest\ngo \u2019long up to our house to-night,\u2019 says he: \u2018Toddy Whitney and Harry\nWiggin\u2019s comin\u2019 up, and we\u2019re goin\u2019 to have a little suthin\u2019 hot,\u2019 says\nhe; and he kind o\u2019 showed me the lemons and sperit. And I told him I\nguessed I would go \u2019long. Wal, I kind o\u2019 wanted to see what they\u2019d be up\nto, ye know.\n\n\u201cWal, come to find out, they was a talkin\u2019 about Cap\u2019n Kidd\u2019s treasures,\nand layin\u2019 out how they should get it, and a settin\u2019 one another on with\ngret stories about it.\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ve heard that there was whole chists full o\u2019 gold guineas,\u2019 says\none.\n\n\u201c\u2018And I\u2019ve heard o\u2019 gold bracelets and ear-rings and finger-rings all\nsparklin\u2019 with diamonds,\u2019 says another.\n\n\u201c\u2018Maybe it\u2019s old silver plate from some o\u2019 them old West Indian\ngrandees,\u2019 says another.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, whatever it is,\u2019 says Mother Hokum, \u2018I want to be into it,\u2019 says\nshe.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, Sam, won\u2019t you jine?\u2019 says they.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, boys,\u2019 says I, \u2018I kind o\u2019 don\u2019t feel jest like j\u2019inin\u2019. I sort\no\u2019 ain\u2019t clear about the rights on\u2019t: seems to me it\u2019s mighty nigh like\ngoin\u2019 to the Devil for money.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says Mother Hokum, \u2018what if \u2019tis? Money\u2019s money, get it how ye\nwill; and the Devil\u2019s money \u2019ll buy as much meat as any. I\u2019d go to the\nDevil, if he gave good money.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, I guess I wouldn\u2019t,\u2019 says I. \u2018Don\u2019t you \u2019member the sermon Parson\nLothrop preached about hastin\u2019 to be rich, last sabba\u2019 day?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Parson Lothrop be hanged!\u2019 says she. \u2018Wal, now,\u2019 says she, \u2018I like\nto see a parson with his silk stockin\u2019s and great gold-headed cane, a\nlollopin\u2019 on his carriage behind his fat, prancin\u2019 hosses, comin\u2019 to\nmeetin\u2019 to preach to us poor folks not to want to be rich! How\u2019d he like\nit to have forty-\u2019leven children, and nothin\u2019 to put onto \u2019em or into\n\u2019em, I wonder? Guess if Lady Lothrop had to rub and scrub, and wear\nher fingers to the bone as I do, she\u2019d want to be rich; and I guess the\nparson, if he couldn\u2019t get a bellyful for a week, would be for diggin\u2019\nup Kidd\u2019s money, or doing \u2019most any thing else to make the pot bile.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says I, \u2018I\u2019ll kind o\u2019 go with ye, boys, and sort o\u2019 see how\nthings turn out; but I guess I won\u2019t take no shere in\u2019t,\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201cWal, they got it all planned out. They was to wait till the full moon,\nand then they was to get Primus King to go with \u2019em and help do the\ndiggin\u2019. Ye see, Hokum and Toddy Whitney and Wiggin are all putty softly\nfellers, and hate dreffully to work; and I tell you the Kidd money ain\u2019t\nto be got without a pretty tough piece o\u2019 diggin. Why, it\u2019s jest like\ndiggin\u2019 a well to get at it. Now, Primus King was the master hand for\ndiggin\u2019 wells, and so they said they\u2019d get him by givin\u2019 on him a shere.\n\n\u201cHarry Wiggin he didn\u2019t want no nigger a sherin\u2019 in it, he said; but\nToddy and Hokum they said that when there was such stiff diggin\u2019 to be\ndone, they didn\u2019t care if they did go in with a nigger.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, Wiggin he said he hadn\u2019t no objection to havin\u2019 the nigger do the\ndiggin,\u2019 it was _sherin\u2019 the profits_ he objected to.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says Hokum, \u2018you can\u2019t get him without,\u2019 says he. \u2018Primus knows\ntoo much,\u2019 says he: \u2018you can\u2019t fool him.\u2019 Finally they \u2019greed that\nthey was to give Primus twenty dollars, and shere the treasure \u2019mong\nthemselves.\n\n\u201cCome to talk with Primus, he wouldn\u2019t stick in a spade, unless they\u2019d\npay him aforehand. Ye see, Primus was up to \u2019em; he knowed about Gidger,\nand there wa\u2019n\u2019t none on \u2019em that was particular good pay; and so they\nall jest hed to rake and scrape, and pay him down the twenty dollars\namong \u2019em; and they \u2019greed for the fust full moon, at twelve\u2019 o\u2019clock at\nnight, the 9th of October.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see I had to tell Hepsy I was goin\u2019 out to watch. Wal, so I\nwas; but not jest in the way she took it: but, Lordy massy! a feller has\nto tell his wife suthin\u2019 to keep her quiet, ye know, \u2019specially Hepsy.\n\n\u201cWal, wal, of all the moonlight nights that ever I did see, I never did\nsee one equal to that. Why, you could see the color o\u2019 every thing. I\n\u2019member I could see how the huckleberry-bushes on the rock was red as\nblood when the moonlight shone through \u2019em; \u2019cause the leaves, you see,\nhad begun to turn.\n\n\u201cGoin\u2019 on our way we got to talkin\u2019 about the sperits.\n\n\u201c\u2018I ain\u2019t afraid on \u2019em,\u2019 says Hokum. \u2018What harm can a sperit do me?\u2019\nsays he. \u2018I don\u2019t care ef there\u2019s a dozen on \u2019em;\u2019 and he took a swig at\nhis bottle.\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh! there ain\u2019t no sperits,\u2019 says Harry Wiggin. \u2018That \u2019are talk\u2019s all\nnonsense;\u2019 and he took a swig at _his_ bottle.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says Toddy, \u2018I don\u2019t know \u2019bout that \u2019are. Me and Ike Sanders\nhas seen the sperits in the Cap\u2019n Brown house. We thought we\u2019d jest have\na peek into the window one night; and there was a whole flock o\u2019 black\ncolts without no heads on come rushin\u2019 on us and knocked us flat.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I expect you\u2019d been at the tahvern,\u2019 said Hokum.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, yes, we had; but them was sperits: we wa\u2019n\u2019t drunk, now; we was\njest as sober as ever we was.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, they won\u2019t get away my money,\u2019 says Primus, \u2018for I put it safe\naway in Dinah\u2019s teapot afore I come out;\u2019 and then he showed all his\nivories from ear to ear. \u2018I think all this \u2019are\u2019s sort o\u2019 foolishness,\u2019\nsays Primus.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says I, \u2018boys, I ain\u2019t a goin\u2019 to have no part or lot in this\n\u2019ere matter, but I\u2019ll jest lay it off to you how it\u2019s to be done. Ef\nKidd\u2019s money is under this rock, there\u2019s \u2019sperits\u2019 that watch it, and\nyou mustn\u2019t give \u2019em no advantage. There mustn\u2019t be a word spoke from\nthe time ye get sight o\u2019 the treasure till ye get it safe up on to firm\nground,\u2019 says I. \u2018\u2019Ef ye do, it\u2019ll vanish right out o\u2019 sight. I\u2019ve talked\nwith them that has dug down to it and seen it; but they allers lost it,\n\u2019cause they\u2019d call out and say suthin\u2019; and the minute they spoke, away\nit went.\u2019\n\n\u201cWal, so they marked off the ground; and Primus he begun to dig, and the\nrest kind o\u2019 sot round. It was so still it was kind o\u2019 solemn. Ye see,\nit was past twelve o\u2019clock, and every critter in Oldtown was asleep;\nand there was two whippoorwills on the great Cap\u2019n Brown elm-trees, that\nkep\u2019 a answerin\u2019 each other back and forward sort o\u2019 solitary like; and\nthen every once in a while there\u2019d come a sort o\u2019 strange whisper up\namong the elm-tree leaves, jest as if there was talkin\u2019 goin\u2019 on; and\nevery time Primus struck his spade into the ground it sounded sort\no\u2019 holler, jest as if he\u2019d been a diggin\u2019 a grave. \u2018It\u2019s kind o\u2019\nmelancholy,\u2019 says I, \u2018to think o\u2019 them poor critters that had to be\nkilled and buried jest to keep this \u2019ere treasure. What awful things \u2019ll\nbe brought to light in the judgment day! Them poor critters they loved\nto live and hated to die as much as any on us; but no, they hed to die\njest to satisfy that critter\u2019s wicked will. I\u2019ve heard them as thought\nthey could tell the Cap\u2019n Kidd places by layin\u2019 their ear to the ground\nat midnight, and they\u2019d hear groans and wailin\u2019s.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Sam! were there really people who could tell where Kidd\u2019s money\nwas?\u201d I here interposed.\n\n\u201cOh, sartin! why, yis. There was Shebna Basconx, he was one. Shebna\ncould always tell what was under the earth. He\u2019d cut a hazel-stick, and\nhold it in his hand when folks was wantin\u2019 to know where to dig wells;\nand that \u2019are stick would jest turn in his hand, and p\u2019int down till it\nwould fairly grind the bark off; and ef you dug in that place you was\nsure to find a spring. Oh, yis! Shebna he\u2019s told many where the Kidd\nmoney was, and been with \u2019em when they dug for it; but the pester on\u2019t\nwas they allers lost it, \u2019cause they would some on \u2019em speak afore they\nthought.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Sam, what about this digging? Let\u2019s know what came of it,\u201d said\nwe, as Sam appeared to lose his way in his story.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, they dug down about five feet, when Primus he struck his\nspade smack on something that chincked like iron.\n\n[Illustration: They dug down about five feet, Page 119]\n\n\u201cWal, then Hokum and Toddy Whitney was into the hole in a minute: they\nmade Primus get out, and they took the spade, \u2019cause they wanted to be\nsure to come on it themselves.\n\n\u201cWal, they begun, and they dug and he scraped, and sure enough they come\nto a gret iron pot as big as your granny\u2019s dinner-pot, with an iron bale\nto it.\n\n\u201cWal, then they put down a rope, and he put the rope through the handle;\nthen Hokum and Toddy they clambered upon the bank, and all on \u2019em began\nto draw, up jest as still and silent as could be. They drawed and they\ndrawed, till they jest got it even with the ground, when Toddy spoke out\nall in a tremble, \u2019There,\u2019. says he, \u2019_we\u2019ve got it!_\u2019 And the minit he\nspoke they was both struck by _suthin_ that knocked \u2019em clean over; and\nthe rope give a crack like a pistol-shot, and broke short off; and the\npot went down, down, down, and they heard it goin\u2019, jink, jink, jink;\nand it went way down into the earth, and the ground closed over it; and\nthen they heard the screechin\u2019est laugh ye ever did hear.\u201d\n\n\u201cI want to know, Sam, did you see that pot?\u201d I exclaimed at this part of\nthe story.\n\n\u201cWal, no, I didn\u2019t. Ye see, I jest happened to drop asleep while they\nwas diggin\u2019, I was so kind o\u2019 tired, and I didn\u2019t wake up till it was\nall over.\n\n\u201cI was waked up, \u2019cause there was consid\u2019able of a scuffle; for Hokum\nwas so mad at Toddy for speakin\u2019, that he was a fistin\u2019 on him; and\nold Primus he jest haw-hawed and laughed. \u2018Wal, I got _my_ money safe,\nanyhow,\u2019 says he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, come to,\u2019 says I. \u2018\u2019Tain\u2019t no use cryin\u2019 for spilt milk: you\u2019ve\njest got to turn in now and fill up this \u2019ere hole, else the selectmen\n\u2019ll be down on ye.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says Primus, \u2018I didn\u2019t engage to fill up no holes;\u2019 and he put\nhis spade on his shoulder and trudged off.\n\n\u201cWal, it was putty hard work, fillin\u2019 in that hole; but Hokum and Toddy\nand Wiggin had to do it, \u2019cause they didn\u2019t want to have everybody a\nlaughin\u2019 at \u2019em; and I kind o\u2019 tried to set it home to \u2019em, showin\u2019 on\n\u2019em that \u2019twas all for the best.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ef you\u2019d a been left to get that \u2019are money, there\u2019d a come a cuss\nwith it,\u2019 says I. \u2018It shows the vanity o\u2019 hastin\u2019 to be rich.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, you shet up!\u2019 says Hokum, says he. \u2018You never hasted to any\nthing,\u2019 says he. Ye see, he was riled, that\u2019s why he spoke so.\u201d\n\n\u201cSam,\u201d said we, after maturely reflecting over the story, \u201cwhat do you\nsuppose was in that pot?\u201d\n\n\u201cLordy massy! boys: ye never will be done askin\u2019 questions. Why, how\nshould I know?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Mis\u2019 Elderkin\u2019s Pitcher, Page 122]\n\n\n\n\n\u201cMIS\u2019 ELDERKIN\u2019S PITCHER.\u201d\n\n\u201cYe see, boys,\u201d said Sam Lawson, as we were gathering young wintergreen\non a sunny hillside in June,--\u201cye see, folks don\u2019t allers know what\ntheir marcies is when they sees \u2019em. Folks is kind o\u2019 blinded; and, when\na providence comes along, they don\u2019t seem to know how to take it, and\nthey growl and grumble about what turns out the best things that ever\nhappened to \u2019em in their lives. It\u2019s like Mis\u2019 Elderkin\u2019s pitcher.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat about Mis\u2019 Elderkin\u2019s pitcher?\u201d said both of us in one breath.\n\n\u201cDidn\u2019t I never tell ye, now?\u201d said Sam: \u201cwhy, I wanter know?\u201d\n\nNo, we were sure he never had told us; and Sam, as usual, began clearing\nthe ground by a thorough introduction, with statistical expositions.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, Mis\u2019 Elderkin she lives now over to Sherburne in about the\nhandsomest house in Sherburne,--a high white house, with green blinds\nand white pillars in front,--and she rides out in her own kerridge;\nand Mr. Elderkin, he \u2019s a deakin in the church, and a colonel in the\nmalitia, and a s\u2019lectman, and pretty much atop every thing there is\ngoin\u2019 in Sherburne, and it all come of that \u2019are pitcher.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat pitcher?\u201d we shouted in chorus.\n\n\u201cLordy massy! that \u2019are \u2019s jest what I\u2019m a goin\u2019 to tell you about; but,\nye see, a feller\u2019s jest got to make a beginnin\u2019 to all things.\n\n\u201cMis\u2019 Elderkin she thinks she\u2019s a gret lady nowadays, I s\u2019pose; but I\n\u2019member when she was Miry Brown over here \u2019n Oldtown, and I used to be\nwaitin\u2019 on her to singing-school.\n\n\u201cMiry and I was putty good friends along in them days,--we was putty\nconsid\u2019able kind o\u2019 intimate. Fact is, boys, there was times in them\ndays when I thought whether or no I wouldn\u2019t _take_ Miry myself,\u201d said\nSam, his face growing luminous with the pleasing idea of his former\nmasculine attractions and privileges. \u201cYis,\u201d he continued, \u201cthere was\na time when folks said I could a hed Miry ef I\u2019d asked her; and I putty\nmuch think so myself, but I didn\u2019t say nothin\u2019: marriage is allers kind\no\u2019ventursome; an\u2019 Miry had such up-and-down kind o\u2019 ways, I was sort o\u2019\nfraid on\u2019t.\n\n\u201cBut Lordy massy! boys, you mustn\u2019t never tell Hepsy I said so, \u2019cause\nshe\u2019d be mad enough to bite a shingle-nail in two. Not that she sets\nso very gret by me neither; but then women\u2019s backs is allers up ef they\nthink anybody else could a hed you, whether they want you themselves or\nnot.\n\n\u201cYe see, Miry she was old Black Hoss John Brown\u2019s da\u2019ter, and lived up\nthere in that \u2019are big brown house by the meetin\u2019-house, that hes the\nred hollyhock in the front yard. Miry was about the handsomest gal that\nwent into the singers\u2019 seat a Sunday.\n\n\u201cI tell you she wa\u2019n\u2019t none o\u2019 your milk-and-sugar gals neither,--she\nwas \u2019mazin\u2019 strong built. She was the strongest gal in her arms that I\never see. Why, I \u2019ve seen Miry take up a barrel o\u2019 flour, and lift it\nright into the kitchen; and it would jest make the pink come into her\ncheeks like two roses, but she never seemed to mind it a grain. She had\na good strong back of her own, and she was straight as a poplar, with\nsnappin\u2019 black eyes, and I tell you there was a snap to her tongue too.\nNobody never got ahead o\u2019 Miry; she\u2019d give every fellow as good as he\nsent, but for all that she was a gret favorite.\n\n\u201cMiry was one o\u2019 your briery, scratchy gals, that seems to catch fellers\nin thorns. She allers fit and flouted her beaux, and the more she fit\nand flouted \u2019em the more they \u2019d be arter her. There wa\u2019n\u2019t a gal in all\nOldtown that led such a string o\u2019 fellers arter her; \u2019cause, you see,\nshe\u2019d now and then throw \u2019em a good word over her shoulder, and then\nthey \u2019d all fight who should get it, and she\u2019d jest laugh to see \u2019em do\nit.\n\n\u201cWhy, there was Tom Sawin, he was one o\u2019 her beaux, and Jim Moss, and\nIke Bacon; and there was a Boston boy, Tom Beacon, he came up from\nCambridge to rusticate with Parson Lothrop; he thought he must have his\nsay with Miry, but he got pretty well come up with. You see, he thought\n\u2019cause he was Boston born that he was kind o\u2019 aristocracy, and hed a\nright jest to pick and choose \u2019mong country gals; but the way he got\ncome up with by Miry was too funny for any thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo tell us about it,\u201d we said, as Sam made an artful pause, designed to\ndraw forth solicitation.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, Tom Beacon he told Ike Bacon about it, and Ike he told me.\n\u2019Twas this way. Ye see, there was a quiltin\u2019 up to Mis\u2019 Cap\u2019n Broad\u2019s,\nand Tom Beacon he was there; and come to goin\u2019 home with the gals, Tom\nhe cut Ike out, and got Miry all to himself; and \u2019twas a putty long\npiece of a walk from Mis\u2019 Cap\u2019n Broad\u2019s up past the swamp and the stone\npastur\u2019 clear up to old Black Hoss John\u2019s.\n\n\u201cWal, Tom he was in high feather \u2019cause Miry took him, so that he didn\u2019t\nreelly know how to behave; and so, as they was walkin\u2019 along past Parson\nLothrop\u2019s apple-orchard, Tom thought he\u2019d try bein\u2019 familiar, and he\nundertook to put his arm round Miry. Wal, if she didn\u2019t jest take that\nlittle fellow by his two shoulders and whirl him over the fence into\nthe orchard quicker \u2019n no time. \u2019Why,\u2019 says Tom, \u2018the fust I knew I was\nlyin\u2019 on my back under the apple-trees lookin\u2019 up at the stars.\u2019 Miry\nshe jest walked off home and said nothin\u2019 to nobody,--it wa\u2019n\u2019t her way\nto talk much about things; and, if it hedn\u2019t ben for Tom Beacon himself,\nnobody need \u2019a\u2019 known nothin\u2019 about it. Tom was a little fellow, you\nsee, and \u2019mazin\u2019 good-natured, and one o\u2019 the sort that couldn\u2019t keep\nnothin\u2019 to himself; and so he let the cat out o\u2019 the bag himself. Wal,\nthere didn\u2019t nobody think the worse o\u2019 Miry. When fellers find a gal\nwon\u2019t take saace from no man, they kind o\u2019 respect her; and then fellers\nallers thinks ef it hed ben _them_, now, things \u2019d \u2019a\u2019 been different.\nThat\u2019s jest what Jim Moss and Ike Bacon said: they said, why Tom Beacon\nwas a fool not to know better how to get along with Miry,--_they_ never\nhad no trouble. The fun of it was, that Tom Beacon himself was more\ncrazy after her than he was afore; and they say he made Miry a right\nup-and-down offer, and Miry she jest wouldn\u2019t have him.\n\n\u201cWal, you see, that went agin old Black Hoss John\u2019s idees: old Black\nHoss was about as close as a nut and as contrairy as a pipperage-tree.\nYou ought to \u2019a\u2019 seen him. Why, his face was all a perfect crisscross o\u2019\nwrinkles. There wa\u2019n\u2019t a spot where you could put a pin down that there\nwa\u2019n\u2019t a wrinkle; and they used to say that he held on to every cent\nthat went through his fingers till he\u2019d pinched it into two. You\ncouldn\u2019t say that his god was his belly, for he hedn\u2019t none, no more\u2019n\nan old file: folks said that he\u2019d starved himself till the moon\u2019d shine\nthrough him.\n\n\u201cOld Black Hoss was awfully grouty about Miry\u2019s refusin\u2019 Tom Beacon,\n\u2019cause there was his houses and lots o\u2019 land in Boston. A drefful\nworldly old critter Black Hoss John was: he was like the rich fool in\nthe gospel. Wal, he\u2019s dead and gone now, poor critter, and what good has\nit all done him? It\u2019s as the Scriptur\u2019 says, \u2019He heapeth up riches, and\nknoweth not who shall gather them.\u2019\n\n\u201cMiry hed a pretty hard row to hoe with old Black Hoss John. She was up\nearly and down late, and kep\u2019 every thing a goin\u2019. She made the cheese\nand made the butter, and between spells she braided herself handsome\nstraw bunnets, and fixed up her clothes; and somehow she worked it so\nwhen she sold her butter and cheese that there was somethin\u2019 for\nribbins and flowers. You know the Scriptur\u2019 says, \u2019Can a maid forget her\nornaments?\u2019 Wal, Miry didn\u2019t. I \u2019member I used to lead the singin\u2019\nin them days, and Miry she used to sing counter, so we sot putty near\ntogether in the singers\u2019 seats; and I used to think Sunday mornin\u2019s\nwhen she come to meetin\u2019 in her white dress and her red cheeks, and her\nbunnet all tipped off with laylock, that \u2019twas for all the world jest\nlike sunshine to have her come into the singers\u2019 seats. Them was the\ndays that I didn\u2019t improve my privileges, boys,\u201d said Sam, sighing\ndeeply. \u201cThere was times that ef I\u2019d a spoke, there\u2019s no knowin\u2019 what\nmightn\u2019t \u2019a\u2019 happened, \u2019cause, you see, boys, I was better lookin\u2019 in\nthem days than I be now. Now you mind, boys, when you grow up, ef you\nget to waitin\u2019 on a nice gal, and you\u2019re \u2019most a mind to speak up to\nher, don\u2019t you go and put it off, \u2019cause, ef you do, you may live to\nrepent it.\n\n\u201cWal, you see, from the time that Bill Elderkin come and took the\nacademy, I could see plain enough that it was time for me to hang up\nmy fiddle. Bill he used to set in the singers\u2019 seats, too, and he\nwould have it that he sung tenor. He no more sung tenor than a\nskunk-blackbird; but he made b\u2019lieve he did, jest to git next to Miry\nin the singers\u2019 seats. They used to set there in the seats a writin\u2019\nbackward and forward to each other till they tore out all the leaves of\nthe hymn-books, and the singin\u2019-books besides. Wal, I never thought that\nthe house o\u2019 the Lord was jest the place to be courtin\u2019 in, and I used\nto get consid\u2019able shocked at the way things went on atween \u2019em. Why,\nthey\u2019d be a writin\u2019 all sermon-time; and I\u2019ve seen him a lookin\u2019 at her\nall through the long prayer in a way that wa\u2019n\u2019t right, considerin\u2019 they\nwas both professors of religion. But then the fact was, old Black Hoss\nJohn was to blame for it, \u2019cause he never let \u2019em have no chance to hum.\nYe see, old Black Hoss he was sot agin Elderkin \u2019cause he was poor.\nYou see, his mother, the old Widdah Elderkin, she was jest about the\npoorest, peakedest old body over to Sherburne, and went out to days\u2019\nworks; and Bill Elderkin he was all for books and larnin\u2019, and old Black\nHoss John he thought it was just shiftlessness: but Miry she thought\nhe was a genius; and she got it sot in her mind that he was goin\u2019 to be\nPresident o\u2019 the United States, or some sich.\n\n\u201cWal, old Black Hoss he wa\u2019n\u2019t none too polite to Miry\u2019s beaux in\ngineral, but when Elderkin used to come to see her he was snarlier than\na saw: he hadn\u2019t a good word for him noways; and he\u2019d rake up the\nfire right before his face and eyes, and rattle about fastenin\u2019 up the\nwindows, and tramp up to bed, and call down the chamber-stairs to Miry\nto go to bed, and was sort o\u2019 aggravatin\u2019 every way.\n\n\u201cWal, ef folks wants to get a gal set on havin\u2019 a man, that \u2019ere\u2019s the\nway to go to work. Miry had a consid\u2019able stiff will of her own; and, ef\nshe didn\u2019t care about Tom Beacon before, she hated him now; and, if she\nliked Bill Elderkin before, she was clean gone over to him now. And\nso she took to goin\u2019 to the Wednesday-evenin\u2019 lecture, and the\nFriday-even-in\u2019 prayer-meetin\u2019, and the singin\u2019-school, jest as regular\nas a clock, and so did he; and arterwards they allers walked home the\nlongest way. Fathers may jest as well let their gals be courted in the\nhouse, peaceable, \u2019cause, if they can\u2019t be courted there, they\u2019ll find\nplaces where they can be: it\u2019s jest human natur\u2019.\n\n\u201cWal, come fall, Elderkin he went to college up to Brunswick; and then I\nused to see the letters as regular up to the store every week, comin\u2019 in\nfrom Brunswick, and old Black Hoss John he see \u2019em too, and got a way\nof droppin\u2019 on \u2019em in his coat-pocket when he come up to the store, and\nfolks used to say that the letters that went into his coat-pocket didn\u2019t\nget to Miry. Anyhow, Miry she says to me one day says she, \u2018Sam, you\u2019re\nup round the post-office a good deal,\u2019 says she. \u2018I wish, if you see any\nletters for me, you\u2019d jest bring \u2019em along.\u2019 I see right into it, and I\ntold her to be sure I would; and so I used to have the carryin\u2019 of great\nthick letters every week. Wal, I was waitin\u2019 on Hepsy along about them\ntimes, and so Miry and I kind o\u2019 sympathized. Hepsy was a pretty gal,\nand I thought it was all best as \u2019twas; any way, I knew I couldn\u2019t get\nMiry, and I could get Hepsy, and that made all the difference in the\nworld.\n\n\u201cWal, that next winter old Black Hoss was took down with rheumatism,\nand I tell you if Miry didn\u2019t have a time on\u2019t! He wa\u2019n\u2019t noways\nsweet-tempered when he was well; but come to be crooked up with the\nrheumatis\u2019 and kep\u2019 awake nights, it seemed as if he was determined\nthere shouldn\u2019t nobody have no peace so long as he couldn\u2019t.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019d get Miry up and down with him night after night a makin\u2019 her\nheat flannels and vinegar, and then he\u2019d jaw and scold so that she was\neenymost beat out. He wouldn\u2019t have nobody set up with him, though\nthere was offers made. No: he said Miry was his daughter, and \u2019twas her\nbisness to take care on him.\n\n\u201cMiry was clear worked down: folks kind o\u2019 pitied her. She was a strong\ngal, but there\u2019s things that wears out the strongest. The worst\non\u2019t was, it hung on so. Old Black Hoss had a most amazin\u2019 sight o\u2019\nconstitution. He\u2019d go all down to death\u2019s door, and seem hardly to have\nthe breath, o\u2019 life in him, and then up he\u2019d come agin! These \u2019ere old\nfolks that nobody wants to have live allers hev such a sight o\u2019 wear\nin \u2019em, they jest last and last; and it really did seem as if he\u2019d wear\nMiry out and get her into the grave fust, for she got a cough with bein\u2019\nup so much in the cold, and grew thin as a shadder. \u2019Member one time I\nwent up there to offer to watch jest in the spring o\u2019 the year, when the\nlaylocks was jest a buddin\u2019 out, and Miry she come and talked with me\nover the fence; and the poor gal she fairly broke down, and sobbed as if\nher heart would break, a tellin\u2019 me her trouble.\n\n\u201cWal, it reelly affected me more to have Miry give up so than most gals,\n\u2019cause she\u2019d allers held her head up, and hed sich a sight o\u2019 grit and\nresolution; but she told me all about it.\n\n\u201cIt seems old Black Hoss he wa\u2019n\u2019t content with worryin\u2019 on her,\nand gettin\u2019 on her up nights, but he kep\u2019 a hectorin\u2019 her about Bill\nElderkin, and wantin\u2019 on her to promise that she wouldn\u2019t hev Bill when\nhe was dead and gone; and Miry she wouldn\u2019t promise, and then the old\nman said she shouldn\u2019t have a cent from him if she didn\u2019t, and so they\nhad it back and forth. Everybody in town was sayin\u2019 what a shame \u2019twas\nthat he should sarve her so; for though he hed other children, they was\nmarried and gone, and there wa\u2019n\u2019t none of them to do for him but jest\nMiry.\n\n\u201cWal, he hung on till jest as the pinys in the front yard was beginnin\u2019\nto blow out, and then he began, to feel he was a goin\u2019, and he sent for\nParson Lothrop to know what was to be done about his soul.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal,\u2019 says Parson Lothrop, \u2018you must settle up all your worldly\naffairs; you must be in peace and love with all mankind; and, if you\u2019ve\nwronged anybody, you must make it good to \u2019em.\u2019\n\n\u201cOld Black Hoss he bounced right over in his bed with his back to the\nminister.\n\n\u201c\u2018The devil!\u2019 says he: \u2018\u2019twill take all I\u2019ve got.\u2019 And he never spoke\nanother word, though Parson Lothrop he prayed with him, and did what he\ncould for him.\n\n\u201cWal, that night I sot up with him; and he went off \u2019tween two and three\nin the mornin\u2019, and I laid him out regular. Of all the racks o\u2019 bone\nI ever see, I never see a human critter so poor as he was. \u2019Twa\u2019n\u2019t\nnothin\u2019 but his awful will kep\u2019 his soul in his body so long, as it was.\n\n\u201cWe had the funeral in the meetin\u2019-house a Sunday; and Parson Lothrop he\npreached a sarmon on contentment on the text, \u2018We brought nothin\u2019 into\nthe world, and it\u2019s sartin we can carry nothin\u2019 out; and having food and\nraiment, let us be therewith content.\u2019 Parson Lothrop he got round the\nsubject about as handsome as he could: he didn\u2019t say what a skinflint\nold Black Hoss was, but he talked in a gineral way about the vanity o\u2019\nworryin\u2019 an\u2019 scrapin\u2019 to heap up riches. Ye see, Parson Lothrop he could\nsay it all putty easy, too, \u2019cause since he married a rich wife he never\nhed no occasion to worry about temporal matters. Folks allers\npreaches better on the vanity o\u2019 riches when they\u2019s in tol\u2019able easy\ncircumstances. Ye see, when folks is pestered and worried to pay their\nbills, and don\u2019t know where the next dollar\u2019s to come from, it\u2019s a great\ntemptation to be kind o\u2019 valooin\u2019 riches, and mebbe envyin\u2019 those that\u2019s\ngot \u2019em; whereas when one\u2019s accounts all pays themselves, and the money\ncomes jest when its wanted regular, a body feels sort o\u2019 composed like,\nand able to take the right view o\u2019 things, like Parson Lothrop.\n\n\u201cWal, arter sermon the relations all went over to the old house to hear\nthe will read; and, as I was kind o\u2019 friend with the family, I jest\nslipped in along with the rest.\n\n\u201cSquire Jones he had the will; and so when they all got sot round all\nsolemn, he broke the seals and unfolded it, cracklin\u2019 it a good while\nafore he begun; and it was so still you might a heard a pin drop when\nhe begun to read. Fust, there was the farm and stock, he left to his son\nJohn Brown over in Sherburne. Then there was the household stuff and all\nthem things, spoons and dishes, and beds and kiver-lids, and so on, to\nhis da\u2019ter Polly Blanchard. And then, last of all, he says, he left to\nhis da\u2019ter Miry _the pitcher that was on the top o\u2019 the shelf in his\nbedroom closet_.\n\n\u201cThat \u2019are was an old cracked pitcher that Miry allers hed hated the\nsight of, and spring and fall she used to beg her father to let her\nthrow it away; but no, he wouldn\u2019t let her touch it, and so it stood\ngatherin\u2019 dust.\n\n\u201cSome on \u2019em run and handed it down; and it seemed jest full o\u2019\nscourin\u2019-sand and nothin\u2019 else, and they handed it to Miry.\n\n\u201cWal, Miry she was wrathy then. She didn\u2019t so much mind bein\u2019 left out\nin the will, \u2019cause she expected that; but to have that \u2019are old pitcher\npoked at her so sort o\u2019 scornful was more\u2019n she could bear.\n\n\u201cShe took it and gin it a throw across the room with all her might; and\nit hit agin the wall and broke into a thousand bits, when out rolled\nhundreds of gold pieces; great gold eagles and guineas flew round\nthe kitchen jest as thick as dandelions in a meadow. I tell you, she\nscrabbled them up pretty quick, and we all helped her.\n\n\u201cCome to count \u2019em over, Miry had the best fortin of the whole, as\n\u2019twas right and proper she should. Miry she was a sensible gal, and\nshe invested her money well; and so, when Bill Elderkin got through his\nlaw-studies, he found a wife that could make a nice beginnin\u2019 with him.\nAnd that\u2019s the way, you see, they came to be doin\u2019 as well as they be.\n\n\u201cSo, boys, you jest mind and remember and allers see what there is in a\nprovidence afore you quarrel with it, \u2019cause there\u2019s a good many things\nin this world turns out like Mis\u2019 Elderkin\u2019s pitcher.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Ghost in Cap\u2019n Brown House, Page 139]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GHOST IN THE CAP\u2019N BROWNHOUSE.\n\n\u201cNow, Sam, tell us certain true, is there any such things as ghosts?\u201d\n\n\u201cBe there ghosts?\u201d said Sam, immediately translating into his vernacular\ngrammar: \u201cwal, now, that are\u2019s jest the question, ye see.\u201d \u201cWell,\ngrandma thinks there are, and Aunt Lois thinks it\u2019s all nonsense. Why,\nAunt Lois don\u2019t even believe the stories in Cotton Mather\u2019s \u2019Magnalia.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWanter know?\u201d said Sam, with a tone of slow, languid meditation.\n\nWe were sitting on a bank of the Charles River, fishing. The soft\nmelancholy red of evening was fading off in streaks on the glassy water,\nand the houses of Oldtown were beginning to loom through the gloom,\nsolemn and ghostly. There are times and tones and moods of nature that\nmake all the vulgar, daily real seem shadowy, vague, and supernatural,\nas if the outlines of this hard material present were fading into the\ninvisible and unknown. So Oldtown, with its elm-trees, its great square\nwhite houses, its meeting-house and tavern and blacksmith\u2019s shop and\nmilly which at high noon seem as real and as commonplace as possible, at\nthis hour of the evening were dreamy and solemn. They rose up blurred,\nindistinct, dark; here and there winking candles sent long lines of\nlight through the shadows, and little drops of unforeseen rain rippled\nthe sheeny darkness of the water.\n\n\u201cWal, you see, boys, in them things it\u2019s jest as well to mind your\ngranny. There\u2019s a consid\u2019able sight o\u2019 gumption in grandmas. You look at\nthe folks that\u2019s alius tellin\u2019 you what they don\u2019t believe,--they don\u2019t\nbelieve this, and they don\u2019t believe that,--and what sort o\u2019 folks is\nthey? Why, like yer Aunt Lois, sort o\u2019 stringy and dry. There ain\u2019t no\n\u2019sorption got out o\u2019 not believin\u2019 nothin\u2019.\n\n\u201cLord a massy! we don\u2019t know nothin\u2019 \u2019bout them things. We hain\u2019t ben\nthere, and can\u2019t say that there ain\u2019t no ghosts and sich; can we, now?\u201d\n\nWe agreed to that fact, and sat a little closer to Sam in the gathering\ngloom.\n\n\u201cTell us about the Cap\u2019n Brown house, Sam.\u201d\n\n\u201cYe didn\u2019t never go over the Cap\u2019n Brown house?\u201d\n\nNo, we had not that advantage.\n\n\u201cWal, yer see, Cap\u2019n Brown he made all his money to sea, in furrin\nparts, and then come here to Oldtown to settle down.\n\n\u201cNow, there ain\u2019t no knowin\u2019 \u2019bout these \u2019ere old ship-masters, where\nthey\u2019s ben, or what they\u2019s ben a doin\u2019, or how they got their money. Ask\nme no questions, and I\u2019ll tell ye no lies, is \u2019bout the best philosophy\nfor them. Wal, it didn\u2019t do no good to ask Cap\u2019n Brown questions too\nclose, \u2019cause you didn\u2019t git no satisfaction. Nobody rightly knew \u2019bout\nwho his folks was, or where they come from; and, ef a body asked him,\nhe used to say that the very fust he know\u2019d \u2019bout himself he was a young\nman walkin\u2019 the streets in London.\n\n\u201cBut, yer see, boys, he hed money, and that is about all folks wanter\nknow when a man comes to settle down. And he bought that \u2019are place, and\nbuilt that \u2019are house. He built it all sea-cap\u2019n fashion, so\u2019s to feel\nas much at home as he could. The parlor was like a ship\u2019s cabin. The\ntable and chairs was fastened down to the floor, and the closets was\nmade with holes to set the casters and the decanters and bottles in,\njest\u2019s they be at sea; and there was stanchions to hold on by; and they\nsay that blowy nights the cap\u2019n used to fire up pretty well with his\ngrog, till he hed about all he could carry, and then he\u2019d set and hold\non, and hear the wind blow, and kind o\u2019 feel out to sea right there to\nhum. There wasn\u2019t no Mis\u2019 Cap\u2019n Brown, and there didn\u2019t seem likely to\nbe none. And whether there ever hed been one, nobody know\u2019d. He hed an\nold black Guinea nigger-woman, named Quassia, that did his work. She was\nshaped pretty much like one o\u2019 these \u2019ere great crookneck-squashes. She\nwa\u2019n\u2019t no gret beauty, I can tell you; and she used to wear a gret red\nturban and a yaller short gown and red petticoat, and a gret string o\u2019\ngold beads round her neck, and gret big gold hoops in her ears, made\nright in the middle o\u2019 Africa among the heathen there. For all she\nwas black, she thought a heap o\u2019 herself, and was consid\u2019able sort o\u2019\npredominative over the cap\u2019n. Lordy massy! boys, it\u2019s alius so. Get a\nman and a woman together,--any sort o\u2019 woman you\u2019re a mind to, don\u2019t\ncare who \u2019tis,--and one way or another she gets the rule over him, and\nhe jest has to train to her fife. Some does it one way, and some does\nit another; some does it by jawin\u2019 and some does it by kissin\u2019, and some\ndoes it by faculty and contrivance; but one way or another they allers\ndoes it. Old Cap\u2019n Brown was a good stout, stocky kind o\u2019 John Bull sort\no\u2019 fellow, and a good judge o\u2019 sperits, and allers kep\u2019 the best in them\nare cupboards o\u2019 his\u2019n; but, fust and last, things in his house went\npretty much as old Quassia said.\n\n\u201cFolks got to kind o\u2019 respectin\u2019 Quassia. She come to meetin\u2019 Sunday\nregular, and sot all fixed up in red and yaller and green, with glass\nbeads and what not, lookin\u2019 for all the world like one o\u2019 them ugly\nIndian idols; but she was well-behaved as any Christian. She was a\nmaster hand at cookin\u2019. Her bread and biscuits couldn\u2019t be beat, and\nno couldn\u2019t her pies, and there wa\u2019n\u2019t no such pound-cake as she made\nnowhere. Wal, this \u2019ere story I\u2019m a goin\u2019 to tell you was told me by\nCinthy Pendleton. There ain\u2019t a more respectable gal, old or young, than\nCinthy nowheres. She lives over to Sherburne now, and I hear tell she\u2019s\nsot up a manty-makin\u2019 business; but then she used to do tailorin\u2019 in\nOldtown. She was a member o\u2019 the church, and a good Christian as ever\nwas. Wal, ye see, Quassia she got Cinthy to come up and spend a week to\nthe Cap\u2019n Brown house, a doin\u2019 tailorin\u2019 and a fixin\u2019 over his close:\n\u2019twas along toward the fust o\u2019 March. Cinthy she sot by the fire in the\nfront parlor with her goose and her press-board and her work: for there\nwa\u2019n\u2019t no company callin\u2019, and the snow was drifted four feet deep right\nacross the front door; so there wa\u2019n\u2019t much danger o\u2019 any body comin\u2019\nin. And the cap\u2019n he was a perlite man to wimmen; and Cinthy she liked\nit jest as well not to have company, \u2019cause the cap\u2019n he\u2019d make himself\nentertainin\u2019 tellin\u2019 on her sea-stories, and all about his adventures\namong the Ammonites, and Perresites, and Jebusites, and all sorts o\u2019\nheathen people he\u2019d been among.\n\n\u201cWal, that \u2019are week there come on the master snow-storm. Of all the\nsnow-storms that hed ben, that \u2019are was the beater; and I tell you the\nwind blew as if \u2019twas the last chance it was ever goin\u2019 to hev. Wal,\nit\u2019s kind o\u2019 scary like to be shet up in a lone house with all natur\u2019\na kind o\u2019 breakin\u2019 out, and goin\u2019 on so, and the snow a comin\u2019 down\nso thick ye can\u2019t see \u2019cross the street, and the wind a pipin\u2019 and a\nsqueelin\u2019 and a rumblin\u2019 and a tumblin\u2019 fust down this chimney and then\ndown that. I tell you, it sort o\u2019 sets a feller thinkin\u2019 o\u2019 the three\ngreat things,--death, judgment, and etarnaty; and I don\u2019t care who the\nfolks is, nor how good they be, there\u2019s times when they must be feelin\u2019\nputty consid\u2019able solemn.\n\n\u201cWal, Cinthy she said she kind o\u2019 felt so along, and she hed a sort o\u2019\nqueer feelin\u2019 come over her as if there was somebody or somethin\u2019 round\nthe house more\u2019n appeared. She said she sort o\u2019 felt it in the air; but\nit seemed to her silly, and she tried to get over it. But two or three\ntimes, she said, when it got to be dusk, she felt somebody go by her up\nthe stairs. The front entry wa\u2019n\u2019t very light in the daytime, and in the\nstorm, come five o\u2019clock, it was so dark that all you could see was jest\na gleam o\u2019 some-thin\u2019, and two or three times when she started to go up\nstairs she see a soft white suthin\u2019 that seemed goin\u2019 up before her, and\nshe stopped with her heart a beatin\u2019 like a trip-hammer, and she sort o\u2019\nsaw it go up and along the entry to the cap\u2019n\u2019s door, and then it seemed\nto go right through, \u2019cause the door didn\u2019t open.\n\n\u201cWal, Cinthy says she to old Quassia, says she, \u2019Is there anybody lives\nin this house but us?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Anybody lives here?\u2019 says Quassia: \u2019what you mean?\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201cSays Cinthy, \u2019I thought somebody went past me on the stairs last night\nand to-night.\u2019\n\n\u201cLordy massy! how old Quassia did screech and laugh. \u2019Good Lord!\u2019 says\nshe, \u2019how foolish white folks is! Somebody went past you? Was\u2019t the\ncapt\u2019in?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018No, it wa\u2019n\u2019t the cap\u2019n,\u2019 says she: \u2018it was somethin\u2019 soft and white,\nand moved very still; it was like somethin\u2019 in the air,\u2019 says she.\nThen Quassia she haw-hawed louder. Says she, \u2018It\u2019s hy-sterikes, Miss\nCinthy; that\u2019s all it is.\u2019\n\n\u201cWal, Cinthy she was kind o\u2019 \u2019shamed, but for all that she couldn\u2019t help\nherself. Sometimes evenin\u2019s she\u2019d be a settin\u2019 with the cap\u2019n, and she\u2019d\nthink she\u2019d hear somebody a movin\u2019 in his room overhead; and she knowed\nit wa\u2019n\u2019t Quassia, \u2019cause Quassia was ironin\u2019 in the kitchen. She took\npains once or twice to find out that \u2019are.\n\n\u201cWal, ye see, the cap\u2019n\u2019s room was the gret front upper chamber over the\nparlor, and then right oppi-site to it was the gret spare chamber where\nCinthy slept. It was jest as grand as could be, with a gret four-post\nmahogany bedstead and damask curtains brought over from England; but it\nwas cold enough to freeze a white bear solid,--the way spare chambers\nallers is. Then there was the entry between, run straight through the\nhouse: one side was old Quassia\u2019s room, and the other was a sort o\u2019\nstoreroom, where the old cap\u2019n kep\u2019 all sorts o\u2019 traps.\n\n\u201cWal, Cinthy she kep\u2019 a hevin\u2019 things happen and a seein\u2019 things, till\nshe didn\u2019t railly know what was in it. Once when she come into the\nparlor jest at sundown, she was sure she see a white figure a vanishin\u2019\nout o\u2019 the door that went towards the side entry. She said it was so\ndusk, that all she could see was jest this white figure, and it jest\nwent out still as a cat as she come in.\n\n\u201cWal, Cinthy didn\u2019t like to speak to the cap\u2019n about it. She was a close\nwoman, putty prudent, Cinthy was.\n\n\u201cBut one night, \u2019bout the middle o\u2019 the week, this \u2019ere thing kind o\u2019\ncome to a crisis.\n\n\u201cCinthy said she\u2019d ben up putty late a sewin\u2019 and a finishin\u2019 off down\nin the parlor; and the cap\u2019n he sot up with her, and was consid\u2019able\ncheerful and entertainin\u2019, tellin\u2019 her all about things over in the\nBermudys, and off to Chiny and Japan, and round the world ginerally. The\nstorm that hed been a blowin\u2019 all the week was about as furious as ever;\nand the cap\u2019n he stirred up a mess o\u2019 flip, and hed it for her hot to\ngo to bed on. He was a good-natured critter, and allers had feelin\u2019s for\nlone women; and I s\u2019pose he knew \u2019twas sort o\u2019 desolate for Cinthy.\n\n\u201cWal, takin\u2019 the flip so right the last thing afore goin\u2019 to bed, she\nwent right off to sleep as sound as a nut, and slep\u2019 on till somewhere\nabout mornin\u2019, when she said somethin\u2019 waked her broad awake in a\nminute. Her eyes flew wide open like a spring, and the storm hed gone\ndown and the moon come out; and there, standin\u2019 right in the moonlight\nby her bed, was a woman jest as white as a sheet, with black hair\nhangin\u2019 down to her waist, and the brightest, mourn fullest black eyes\nyou ever see. She stood there lookin\u2019 right at Cinthy; and Cinthy thinks\nthat was what waked her up; \u2019cause, you know, ef anybody stands and\nlooks steady at folks asleep it\u2019s apt to wake \u2019em.\n\n[Illustration: Stood there lookin\u2019 right at Cinthy, Page 149]\n\n\u201cAny way, Cinthy said she felt jest as ef she was turnin\u2019 to stone. She\ncouldn\u2019t move nor speak. She lay a minute, and then she shut her eyes,\nand begun to say her prayers; and a minute after she opened \u2019em, and it\nwas gone.\n\n\u201cCinthy was a sensible gal, and one that allers hed her thoughts about\nher; and she jest got up and put a shawl round her shoulders, and went\nfirst and looked at the doors, and they was both on \u2019em locked jest as\nshe left \u2019em when she went to bed. Then she looked under the bed and in\nthe closet, and felt all round the room: where she couldn\u2019t see she felt\nher way, and there wa\u2019n\u2019t nothin\u2019 there.\n\n\u201cWal, next mornin\u2019 Cinthy got up and went home, and she kep\u2019 it to\nherself a good while. Finally, one day when she was workin\u2019 to our house\nshe told Hepsy about it, and Hepsy she told me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Sam,\u201d we said, after a pause, in which we heard only the rustle\nof leaves and the ticking of branches against each other, \u201cwhat do you\nsuppose it was?\u201d\n\n\u201cWal, there \u2019tis: you know jest as much about it as I do. Hepsy told\nCinthy it might \u2019a\u2019 ben a dream; so it might, but Cinthy she was sure it\nwa\u2019n\u2019t a dream, \u2019cause she remembers plain hearin\u2019 the old clock on the\nstairs strike four while she had her eyes open lookin\u2019 at the woman; and\nthen she only shet \u2019em a minute, jest to say \u2018Now I lay me,\u2019 and opened\n\u2019em and she was gone.\n\n\u201cWal, Cinthy told Hepsy, and Hepsy she kep\u2019 it putty close. She didn\u2019t\ntell it to nobody except Aunt Sally Dickerson and the Widder Bije Smith\nand your Grandma Badger and the minister\u2019s wife; and they every one o\u2019\n\u2019em \u2019greed it ought to be kep\u2019 close, \u2019cause it would make talk. Wal,\ncome spring, somehow or other it seemed to \u2019a\u2019 got all over Old-town. I\nheard on \u2019t to the store and up to the tavern; and Jake Marshall he\nsays to me one day, \u2018What\u2019s this \u2019ere about the cap\u2019n\u2019s house?\u2019 And the\nWidder Loker she says to me, \u2018There\u2019s ben a ghost seen in the cap\u2019n\u2019s\nhouse;\u2019 and I heard on \u2019t clear over to Needham and Sherburne.\n\n\u201cSome o\u2019 the women they drew themselves up putty stiff and proper. Your\nAunt Lois was one on \u2019em.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ghost,\u2019 says she; \u2018don\u2019t tell me! Perhaps it would be best ef \u2019twas a\nghost,\u2019 says she. She didn\u2019t think there ought to be no sich doin\u2019s\nin nobody\u2019s house; and your grandma she shet her up, and told her she\ndidn\u2019t oughter talk so.\u201d\n\n\u201cTalk how?\u201d said I, interrupting Sam with wonder. \u201cWhat did Aunt Lois\nmean?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you see,\u201d said Sam mysteriously, \u201cthere allers is folks in every\ntown that\u2019s jest like the Sadducees in old times: they won\u2019t believe in\nangel nor sperit, no way you can fix it; and ef things is seen and done\nin a house, why, they say, it\u2019s \u2019cause there\u2019s somebody there; there\u2019s\nsome sort o\u2019 deviltry or trick about it.\n\n\u201cSo the story got round that there was a woman kep\u2019 private in Cap\u2019n\nBrown\u2019s house, and that he brought her from furrin parts; and it growed\nand growed, till there was all sorts o\u2019 ways o\u2019 tellin on \u2019t.\n\n\u201cSome said they\u2019d seen her a settin\u2019 at an open winder. Some said that\nmoonlight nights they\u2019d seen her a walkin\u2019 out in the back garden kind\no\u2019 in and out \u2019mong the bean-poles and squash-vines.\n\n\u201cYou see, it come on spring and summer; and the winders o\u2019 the Cap\u2019n\nBrown house stood open, and folks was all a watchin\u2019 on \u2019em day and\nnight. Aunt Sally Dickerson told the minister\u2019s wife that she\u2019d seen in\nplain daylight a woman a settin\u2019 at the chamber winder atween four and\nfive o\u2019clock in the mornin\u2019,--jist a settin\u2019 a lookin\u2019 out and a doin\u2019\nnothin\u2019, like anybody else. She was very white and pale, and had black\neyes.\n\n\u201cSome said that it was a nun the cap\u2019n had brought away from a Roman\nCatholic convent in Spain, and some said he\u2019d got her out o\u2019 the\nInquisition.\n\n\u201cAunt Sally said she thought the minister ought to call and inquire why\nshe didn\u2019t come to meetin\u2019, and who she was, and all about her: \u2019cause,\nyou see, she said it might be all right enough ef folks only know\u2019d jest\nhow things was; but ef they didn\u2019t, why, folks will talk.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, did the minister do it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, Parson Lothrop? Wal, no, he didn\u2019t. He made a call on the cap\u2019n\nin a regular way, and asked arter his health and all his family. But the\ncap\u2019n he seemed jest as jolly and chipper as a spring robin, and he gin\nthe minister some o\u2019 his old Jamaiky; and the minister he come away\nand said he didn\u2019t see nothin\u2019; and no he didn\u2019t. Folks never does see\nnothin\u2019 when they aint\u2019 lookin\u2019 where \u2019tis. Fact is, Parson Lothrop\nwa\u2019n\u2019t fond o\u2019 inter-ferin\u2019; he was a master hand to slick things over.\nYour grandma she used to mourn about it, \u2019cause she said he never gin no\np\u2019int to the doctrines; but \u2019twas all of a piece, he kind o\u2019 took every\nthing the smooth way.\n\n\u201cBut your grandma she believed in the ghost, and so did Lady Lothrop. I\nwas up to her house t\u2019other day fixin\u2019 a door-knob, and says she, \u2019Sam,\nyour wife told me a strange story about the Cap\u2019n Brown house.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, ma\u2019am, she did,\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, what do you think of it?\u2019 says she.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wal, sometimes I think, and then agin I don\u2019t know,\u2019 says I. \u2018There\u2019s\nCinthy she\u2019s a member o\u2019 the church and a good pious gal,\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, Sam,\u2019 says Lady Lothrop, says she; \u2018and Sam,\u2019 says she, \u2018it is\njest like something that happened once to my grandmother when she was\nlivin\u2019 in the old Province House in Bostin.\u2019 Says she, \u2018These \u2019ere\nthings is the mysteries of Providence, and it\u2019s jest as well not to have\n\u2019em too much talked about.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Jest so,\u2019 says I,--\u2018jest so. That \u2019are\u2019s what every woman I\u2019ve talked\nwith says; and I guess, fust and last, I\u2019ve talked with twenty,--good,\nsafe church-members,--and they\u2019s every one o\u2019 opinion that this \u2019ere\noughtn\u2019t to be talked about. Why, over to the deakin\u2019s t\u2019other night we\nwent it all over as much as two or three hours, and we concluded that\nthe best way was to keep quite still about it; and that\u2019s jest what they\nsay over to Need-ham and Sherburne. I\u2019ve been all round a hushin\u2019 this\n\u2019ere up, and I hain\u2019t found but a few people that hedn\u2019t the particulars\none way or another.\u2019 This \u2019ere was what I says to Lady Lothrop. The\nfact was, I never did see no report spread so, nor make sich sort o\u2019\nsarchin\u2019s o\u2019 heart, as this \u2019ere. It railly did beat all; \u2019cause,\nef \u2019twas a ghost, why there was the p\u2019int proved, ye see. Cinthy\u2019s a\nchurch-member, and she _see_ it, and got right up and sarched the room:\nbut then agin, ef \u2019twas a woman, why that \u2019are was kind o\u2019 awful; it\ngive cause, ye see, for thinkin\u2019 all sorts o\u2019 things. There was Cap\u2019n\nBrown, to be sure, he wa\u2019n\u2019t a church-member; but yet he was as honest\nand regular a man as any goin\u2019, as fur as any on us could see. To be\nsure, nobody know\u2019d where he come from, but that wa\u2019n\u2019t no reason agin\u2019\nhim: this \u2019ere might a ben a crazy sister, or some poor critter that he\ntook out o\u2019 the best o\u2019 motives; and the Scriptur\u2019 says, \u2018Charity hopeth\nall things.\u2019 But then, ye see, folks will talk,--that \u2019are\u2019s the pester\no\u2019 all these things,--and they did some on \u2019em talk consid\u2019able strong\nabout the cap\u2019n; but somehow or other, there didn\u2019t nobody come to the\np\u2019int o\u2019 facin\u2019 on him down, and savin\u2019 square out, \u2018Cap\u2019n Brown, have\nyou got a woman in your house, or hain\u2019t you? or is it a ghost, or what\nis it?\u2019 Folks somehow never does come to that. Ye see, there was the\ncap\u2019n so respectable, a settin\u2019 up every Sunday there in his pew, with\nhis ruffles round his hands and his red broadcloth cloak and his cocked\nhat. Why, folks\u2019 hearts sort o\u2019 failed \u2019em when it come to say in\u2019 any\nthing right to him. They thought and kind o\u2019 whispered round that the\nminister or the deakins oughter do it: but Lordy massy! ministers, I\ns\u2019pose, has feelin\u2019s like the rest on us; they don\u2019t want to eat all the\nhard cheeses that nobody else won\u2019t eat. Anyhow, there wasn\u2019t nothin\u2019\nsaid direct to the cap\u2019n; and jest for want o\u2019 that all the folks in\nOld-town kep\u2019 a bilin\u2019 and a bilin\u2019 like a kettle o\u2019 soap, till it\nseemed all the time as if they\u2019d bile over.\n\n\u201cSome o\u2019 the wimmen tried to get somethin\u2019 out o\u2019 Quassy. Lordy massy!\nyou might as well \u2019a\u2019 tried to get it out an old tom-turkey, that\u2019ll\nstrut and gobble and quitter, and drag his wings on the ground, and fly\nat you, but won\u2019t say nothin\u2019. Quassy she screeched her queer sort o\u2019\nlaugh; and she told \u2019em that they was a makin\u2019 fools o\u2019 themselves, and\nthat the cap\u2019n\u2019s matters wa\u2019n\u2019t none o\u2019 their bisness; and that was true\nenough. As to goin\u2019 into Quassia\u2019s room, or into any o\u2019 the store-rooms\nor closets she kep\u2019 the keys of, you might as well hev gone into a\nlion\u2019s den. She kep\u2019 all her places locked up tight; and there was no\ngettin\u2019 at nothin\u2019 in the Cap\u2019n Brown house, else I believe some o\u2019 the\nwimmen would \u2019a\u2019 sent a sarch-warrant.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat came of it? Didn\u2019t anybody ever find out?\u201d\n\n\u201cWal,\u201d said Sam, \u201cit come to an end sort o\u2019, and didn\u2019t come to an\nend. It was jest this \u2019ere way. You see, along in October, jest in the\ncider-makin\u2019 time, Abel Flint he was took down with dysentery and died.\nYou \u2019member the Flint house: it stood on a little rise o\u2019 ground\njest lookin\u2019 over towards the Brown house. Wal, there was Aunt Sally\nDickerson and the Widder Bije Smith, they set up with the corpse. He was\nlaid out in the back chamber, you see, over the milk-room and kitchen;\nbut there was cold victuals and sich in the front chamber, where the\nwatchers sot. Wal, now, Aunt Sally she told me that between three and\nfour o\u2019clock she heard wheels a rumblin\u2019, and she went to the winder,\nand it was clear starlight; and she see a coach come up to the Cap\u2019n\nBrown house; and she see the cap\u2019n come out bringin\u2019 a woman all wrapped\nin a cloak, and old Quassy came arter with her arms full o\u2019 bundles; and\nhe put her into the kerridge, and shet her in, and it driv off; and she\nsee old Quassy stand lookin\u2019 over the fence arter it. She tried to wake\nup the widder, but \u2019twas towards mornin\u2019, and the widder allers was a\nhard sleeper; so there wa\u2019n\u2019t no witness but her.\u2019\n\n\u201cWell, then, it wasn\u2019t a ghost,\u201d said I, \u201cafter all, and it _was_ a\nwoman.\u201d\n\n\u201cWal, there \u2019tis, you see. Folks don\u2019t know that \u2019are yit, \u2019cause there\nit\u2019s jest as broad as \u2019tis long. Now, look at it. There\u2019s Cinthy, she\u2019s\na good, pious gal: she locks her chamber-doors, both on \u2019em, and goes\nto bed, and wakes up in the night, and there\u2019s a woman there. She jest\nshets her eyes, and the woman\u2019s gone. She gits up and looks, and both\ndoors is locked jest as she left \u2019em. That \u2019ere woman wa\u2019n\u2019t flesh and\nblood now, no way,--not such flesh and blood as we knows on; but then\nthey say Cinthy might hev dreamed it!\n\n\u201cWal, now, look at it t\u2019other way. There\u2019s Aunt Sally Dickerson; she\u2019s\na good woman and a church-member: wal, she sees a woman in a cloak\nwith all her bundles brought out o\u2019 Cap\u2019n Brown\u2019s house, and put into\na kerridge, and driv off, atween three and four o\u2019clock in the mornin\u2019.\nWal, that \u2019ere shows there must \u2019a\u2019 ben a real live woman kep\u2019 there\nprivately, and so what Cinthy saw wasn\u2019t a ghost.\n\n\u201cWal, now, Cinthy says Aunt Sally might \u2019a\u2019 dreamed it,--that she got\nher head so full o\u2019 stories about the Cap\u2019n Brown house, and watched\nit till she got asleep, and hed this \u2019ere dream; and, as there didn\u2019t\nnobody else see it, it might \u2019a\u2019 ben, you know. Aunt Sally\u2019s clear she\ndidn\u2019t dream, and then agin Cinthy\u2019s clear _she_ didn\u2019t dream; but which\non \u2019em was awake, or which on \u2019em was asleep, is what ain\u2019t settled in\nOldtown yet.\u201d\n\n\n[Note: The two last stories in the printed book are not included as\nthey have missing pages.]\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\u2019s Oldtown Fireside Stories, by Harriet Beecher Stowe","title":"Oldtown Fireside Stories","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":32453}