Part 10

I wouldn’t have Ebenezer know, Or Parson, for all creation, But I don’t feel right unless I’m dressed In the very latest fashion.

There’s sister Thomson, a good old maid, It’s many a hint she’s given, I’d feel more at home in Vanity Fair Than I would in the courts of heaven.

She vexes me with her saintly ways, I never need try to please her, And I can guess at the reason too, She wanted my Ebenezer.

“She’s delicate,” she said to him once When he was at first my lover, “No sort for a farmer lad to choose, Sakes alive! there’s nothing of her.”

“She won’t stand life’s toil and turmoil long!” She says of late, so regretful, Well, she may get Ebenezer yet For all men are so forgetful.

But never mind, I went to the fair, I wish, my dear, you had been there, For I know you would never forget Such pretty sights as were seen there.

Now, since I saw the marvel myself, I know you’ll surely believe it, They’re fooling ’round with the lightning grim, Have made a plan to deceive it.

Just think of taking some bits of steel, And a rod that’s far from pliant, To put on the roof of a house or barn, That it can glare ’round defiant.

Ebenezer fancied it, I know, And wanted to make the bargain, But kind of dreaded what I would say, And also good elder Largain.

“’Twould be right pleasant” he said to me, “When the storm was at its labors, To have something standing up like that To scare it off to the neighbors.”

“Ebenezer,” I said, very sharp, For I didn’t like his spirit, “God holds all the lightning in His hand, Then why should His children fear it?

“You just let that precious thing alone, Let it alone, Ebenezer, And if we’re struck when the lightning comes, Why never mind, Ebenezer.”

Then there were machines for everything, But I would feel like a ninny, Setting all day on a cushioned chair, Spinning rolls on that queer jinny.

They wanted to sell me one right off, I shook my head, “not at present,” I’ll do my work in the good old way, Though it isn’t quite so pleasant.

I’ve done my share of the big farm’s work, Spinning, and weaving, and baking; Though sometimes only the good Lord knows How my back and legs are aching.

And whatever sister Thomson says, She can’t make fun of my working, And if I like fashion most too well, ’Tisn’t the fashion of shirking.

There’s awful smart people in the world, You’d think so if you had been there, Such signs and wonders on every hand, At the fair was to be seen, dear.

And I wore my very newest things, Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, But truth is truth, and I’ll own right up, I look quite nice in this bonnet.

I wouldn’t have Ebenezer know, Or parson, for all creation, But I don’t feel right unless I’m dressed In the very latest fashion.

The Meanest Man

“Tell you why I never got married? I’d as lief as not, Sarah Ann, I never but once got an offer, And then--well, he wasn’t the man.

Tell the story--yes, if you wish it, You cannot remember I know When the widow Wemp an’ her youngster Moved in the old cottage below.

That spring was as backward as could be, The nights and the days were so cold, Not a bird had a bit of a song But the robins, saucy and bold.

Did you ever try to be kind to A kitten that scarcely could stand? Half starved, or half drowned, or half frozen, Yet it flies from your outstretched hand?

Well, ’twas just so with that little one When I tried to get him one day, My heart kind of melted watching him At his solemn unchildish play.

A bran new idea, but struck me As I washed the dishes that night, I sauntered down to the cottage With a basket, not very light.

Oh, but that was a comfortless room! The widow so thin and white Was rocking the boy, and a dimness Came over my eyes at the sight.

I walked right up to her and kissed her, Says I, little woman I know Things haven’t gone well with you lately, Or you wouldn’t look as you do.

But, says I, if a friend can help you, And ease up your trouble a mite, Why, I’ll just sit down here beside you, An’ we’ll talk it over to-night.

She took my two hands and she held them, The big tears ran down her pale cheek, “Oh, I’m lonely, she cried, and foolish,” Says I, you are worn out an’ weak.

What has this to do with my offer? Be patient, my dear Sarah Ann, If you’d listened a minute longer You’d have caught a glimpse of the man.

For right there all creaking and groaning, Beneath some rough limbs meant for wood, In front of the door of the cottage Old Abner Green’s big waggon stood.

An’ Abner came in without knocking, A-nodding to her, an’ to me, “What, two of us here! well there’s nothin’ Like havin’ good neighbors,” said he.

“Now, I’ve heard you’re mazin’ poor, Missus, An’ I reckon it must be true, Speak out to us fully and freely, It maybe I can help you through.”

She told him--I sat there and listened To a story of hopes and fears, Of poverty, sorrow, and heartbreak, Till I scarce could see for the tears.

She talked of the home of her childhood, Of parents and friends kind and true, Of seasons o’erflowing with pleasure, Of skies that were cloudless and blue, Of the meadows so fragrant with clover, With bees in each down-drooping head, Of the noisy stream rushing onward, Away to its pebble-lined bed.

Of the homely affection abounding, The work that was duty’s sweet call, Of the church that stood on the hillside, Of the graves--the end of it all.

“I’m waiting,” her voice broke a little, “For one perfect summer to come, Not the stifling summers of cities, But one of the summers of home.

And before the frost touches the flowers”-- Here she held the boy to her breast-- “I’ll be sleeping too soundly to care, And this dear one--ah, God knows best!”

Now I’m not soft-hearted as some folks, But an odd catch came in my breath, She seemed such a lone little creature, With nothing to wait for but death.

But Abner, he rose up and buttoned His great coat, and smiled so benign, “Missus,” he said, “I’ve brought you some wood, There’s no kinder heart--hem! than mine.”

Them limbs may be just a little tough, But no fire is tougher, I guess, Don’t thank me, I know what you mean now, An’ feelin’s are hard to express.

Perhaps I’ve a penny about me To give to that boy that’s asleep, Don’t let him be foolish at spendin’, But teach him to hold and to keep.

There’s likely some things at the house, too, I can either send up, or bring, Don’t thank me, you’re poor but you’re honest, _You can work it out in the spring_.

I’m not so well-grounded as some folks, An’ I took a tumble from grace, To talk of her working to pay him, An’ death in her pretty young face.

He followed me out as I started-- My head pretty high--down the lane, But just as I came to the thorn-hedge, He caught up, and said he, “Now Jane,

I’ve something special to tell you, You needn’t go hurrying through; Say, I’m thinkin’ of marryin’, Jane, An’ the lucky woman is--_you_.

Yes, I might have found one much younger If I had gone lookin’ around, But you can keep house, little woman, With the best of them, I’ll be bound.

Looks shan’t count when I hunt a woman, Said I to myself, long ago, That she’s savin’, an’ strong, an’ hearty, Is all that I hanker to know.

I tell you what, Jane, such a bargain Won’t travel your road every day, I’ve fixed my affections right on you, When shall it be? What do you say?

We’re both of us steady an’ honest, We’ve both got a fair share of pelf, I’ve looked quite a while for a woman Who thinks just about like myself.”

I gasped, Sarah Ann, for a minute, Was never so shamed in my life, And old Abner Green stood there leering, Quite certain, that I’d be his wife.

“Do I look so anxious to marry?” Said I, with lips scornfully curled, “That you really think I’d go partners With the meanest man in the world?

So you’ve waited to find you a wife, With a mind like your own, you say, But you’ll not find one so mean as that, If you wait till the Judgment Day.”

Then I turned me about and left him Staring up at the silent stars, But I fancied I caught some swear words As I hurried over the bars.

Sarah Ann, that’s all the offer This Aunt Jane of yours ever had; ’Tis as well, I’m content to live here With my own little bright-eyed lad.

Yes, his mother died in the springtime-- Here he comes with his hair all curled And face like a peach--now isn’t he The loveliest thing in the world!