Part 2

At funerals occurring on Sunday three hundred carriages have been seen in attendance; and so great at all times is the concourse of people of all stations and all shades of belief, and so many partake of the entertainment liberally provided, that I may be excused for calling funerals the great festivals of the “Dutch.” (Weddings are also highly festive occasions, but they are confined to the “freundschaft,” and to much smaller numbers.)

The services at funerals are generally conducted in the German language.

An invitation is extended to the persons present to return to eat after the funeral, or the meal is partaken of before leaving for the graveyard: hospitality, in all rural districts, where the guests come from afar, seems to require this. The tables are sometimes set in a barn, or large wagon-house, and relays of guests succeed one another, until all are done. The neighbors wait upon the table. The entertainment generally consists of meat, frequently cold; bread and butter; pickles or sauces, such as apple-butter; pies and rusks; sometimes stewed chickens, mashed potatoes, cheese, etc.; and coffee invariably. All depart after the dish-washing, and the family is left in quiet again.

I have said that persons of all shades of belief attend funerals; but our New Mennists are not permitted to listen to the sermons of other denominations. Memorial stones over the dead are more conspicuous than among Friends; but they are still quite plain, with simple inscriptions. Occasionally family graveyards are seen. One on a farm adjoining ours seems cut out of the side of a field; it stands back from the high-road, and access to it is on foot. To those who are anxious to preserve the remains of their relatives, these graveyards are objectionable, as they will probably not be regarded after the property has passed into another family.

A Lutheran gentleman, living in Berks County, in speaking of the great funerals among the “Dutch,” says, “Our Germans look forward all their lives to their funerals, hoping to be able to entertain their friends on that great occasion with the hospitality due to them, and the honor due to the memory of the departed.” No spirituous liquors, he added, are _now_ used at funerals, the clergy having discouraged their use on these religious occasions. In a mountain valley in Carbon County, about thirty years ago, a bottle of whiskey was handed to a Lutheran minister, and he was asked to take some. “Yes, I’ll have some,” he answered; and taking the bottle, he broke it against a tree.

WEDDINGS.

Our farmer had a daughter married lately, and I was invited to see the bride leave home. The groom, in accordance with the early habits of the “Dutch” folks, reached the bride’s house about six in the morning, having previously breakfasted and ridden four miles. As he probably fed and harnessed his horse, besides attiring himself for the grand occasion, he must have been up betimes on an October morning.

The bride wore purple mousseline-de-laine and a blue bonnet. As some of the “wedding-folks” were dilatory, the bride and groom did not get off before seven. The bridegroom was a mechanic. The whole party was composed of four couples, who rode to Lancaster in buggies, where two pairs were married by a minister. In the afternoon the newly-married couples went down to Philadelphia for a few days; and on the evening that they were expected at home we had a reception, or home-coming. Supper consisted of roast turkeys, beef, and stewed chickens, cakes, pies, and coffee of course. We had raisin-pie, which is a great treat in “Dutchland” on festive or solemn occasions. “Nine couples” of the party sat down to supper, and then the remaining spare seats were occupied by the landlord’s wife, the bride’s uncle, etc. We had a fiddler in the evening. He and the dancing would not have been there had the household “belonged to meeting;” and, as it was, some young Methodist girls did not dance.

One of my “English” acquaintances was sitting alone on a Sunday evening, when she heard a rap at the door, and a young “Dutchman,” a stranger, walked in and sat down, “and there he sot, and sot, and sot.” Mrs. G. waited to hear his errand, politely making conversation; and finally he asked whether her daughter was at home. “Which one?” He did not know. But that did not make much difference, as neither was at home. Mrs. G. afterwards mentioned this circumstance to a worthy “Dutch” neighbor, expressing surprise that a young man should call who had not been introduced. “How then _would_ they get acquainted?” said he. She suggested that she did not think that her daughter knew the young man. “She would not tell you, perhaps, if she did.” The daughter, however, when asked, seemed entirely ignorant, and did not know that she had ever seen the young man. He had probably seen her at the railroad station, and had found out her name and residence. It would seem to indicate much confidence on the part of parents, if, when acquaintances are formed in such a manner, the father and mother retire at nine o’clock, and leave their young daughter thus to “keep company” until midnight or later. It is no wonder that one of our German sects has declared against the popular manner of “courting.”

I recently attended a New Mennist wedding, which took place in the frame meeting-house. We entered through an adjoining brick dwelling, one room of which served as an ante-room, where the “sisters” left their bonnets and shawls. I was late, for the services had begun about nine on a bitter Sunday morning in December. The meeting-house was crowded, and in front on the left was a plain of book-muslin caps on the heads of the sisters. On shelves and pegs, along the other side, were placed the hats and overcoats of the brethren. The building was extremely simple,—whitewashed without, entirely unpainted within, with whitewashed walls. The preacher stood at a small, unpainted desk, and before it was a table, convenient for the old men “to sit at and lay their books on.” Two stoves, a half-dozen hanging tin candlesticks, and the benches completed the furniture. The preacher was speaking extemporaneously in English, for in this meeting-house the services are often performed in this tongue; and he spoke readily and well, though his speech was not free from such expressions as, “It would be wishful for men to do their duty;” “Man cannot separate them together;” and “This, Christ done for us.”

He spoke at length upon divorce, which, he said, could not take place between Christians. The preacher spoke especially upon the duty of the wife to submit to the husband whenever differences of sentiment arose; of the duty of the husband to love the wife, and to show his love by his readiness to assist her. He alluded to Paul’s saying that it is better to be unmarried than married, and he did not scruple to use plain language touching adultery. His discourse ended, he called upon the pair proposing marriage to come forward; whereupon the man and woman rose from the body of the congregation on either side, and, coming out to the middle aisle, stood together before the minister. They had both passed their early youth, but had very good faces. The bride wore a mode-colored alpaca, and a black apron; also a clear-starched cap without a border, after the fashion of the sect. The groom wore a dark-green coat, cut “shad-bellied,” after the fashion of the brethren.

This was probably the manner of their acquaintance: If, in spite of Paul’s encouragement to a single life, a brother sees a sister whom he wishes to marry, he mentions the fact to a minister, who tells it to the sister. If she agrees in sentiment, the acquaintance continues for a year, during which private interviews can be had if desired; but this sect entirely discourages courting as usually practised among the “Dutch.”

The year having in this case elapsed, and the pair having now met before the preacher, he propounded to them three questions:

1. I ask of this brother, as the bridegroom, do you believe that this sister in the faith is allotted to you by God as your helpmeet and spouse? And I ask of you, as the bride, do you believe that this your brother is allotted to you by God as your husband and head?

2. Are you free in your affections from all others, and have you them centred alone upon this your brother or sister?

3. Do you receive this person as your lawfully wedded husband [wife], do you promise to be faithful to him [her], to reverence him [to love her], and that nothing but death shall separate you; that, by the help of God, you will, to the best of your ability, fulfil all the duties which God has enjoined on believing husbands and wives?

In answering this last question, I observed the bride to lift her eyes to the preacher’s face, as if in fearless trust. Then the preacher, directing them to join hands, pronounced them man and wife, and invoked a blessing upon them. This was followed by a short prayer, after which the wedded pair separated, each again taking a place among the congregation. The occasion was solemn. On resuming his place in the desk, the preacher’s eyes were seen to be suffused, and pocket-handkerchiefs were visible on either side (the sisters’ white, those of the brethren of colored silk). The audience then knelt, while the preacher prayed, and I heard responses like those of the Methodists, but more subdued. The preacher made a few remarks, to the effect that, although it would be grievous to break the bond now uniting these two, it would be infinitely more grievous to break the tie which unites us to Christ; and then a quaint hymn was sung to a familiar tune. This “church” does not allow wedding-parties, but a few friends may gather at the house after meeting.

At Amish weddings the meeting is not in a church, like the one just spoken of, for their meetings are held in private houses. I hear that none go to this meeting but invited guests, except that the preachers are always present; and after the ceremony the wedded pair with the preachers retire into a private apartment, perhaps for exhortation upon their new duties.

A neighbor tells me that the Amish have great fun at weddings; that they have a table set all night, and that when the weather is pleasant they play in the barn. “Our Pete went once,” she continued, “with a lot of the public-school scholars. They let them go in and look on. They twisted a towel for the bloom-sock, and they did hit each other.” (Bloom-sock, _plump-sack_, a twisted kerchief,—a clumsy fellow.)

“The bloom-sock” (_oo_ short), I hear, “is a handkerchief twisted long, from the two opposite corners. When it is twisted, you double it, and tie the ends with a knot. One in front hunts the handkerchief, and those on the bench are passing it behind them. If they get a chance, they’ll hit him with it, and if he sees it he tears it away. Then he goes into the row, and the other goes out to hunt it.”

It has also been said that at Amish wedding-parties they have what they call _Glücktrinke_, of wine, etc. Some wedding-parties are called infares. Thus, a neighbor spoke of “Siegfried’s wedding, where they had such an infare.” The original meaning I suppose to be home-coming.

It must not be inferred from these descriptions that we have no “fashionable” persons among us, of the old German stock. When they have become fashionable, however, they do not desire to be called “Dutch.”

QUILTINGS.

There lives in our neighborhood a pleasant, industrious “Aunt Sally,” a yellow woman; and one day she had a quilting, for she had long wished to re-cover two quilts. The first who arrived at Aunt Sally’s was our neighbor from over the “creek,” or mill-stream, Polly M., in her black silk Mennist bonnet, formed like a sun-bonnet; and at ten came my dear friend Susanna E., who is tall and fat, and very pleasant; who has Huguenot blood in her veins, and—

“Whose heart has a look southward, and is open To the great noon of nature.”

Aunt Sally had her quilt up in her landlord’s east room, for her own house was too small. However, at about eleven she called us over to dinner; for people who have breakfasted at five or six have an appetite at eleven.

We found on the table beefsteaks, boiled pork, sweet potatoes, kohl-slaw,[4] pickled tomatoes, cucumbers, and red beets (thus the “Dutch” accent lies), apple-butter and preserved peaches, pumpkin- and apple-pie, with sponge-cake and coffee.

After dinner came our next neighbors, “the maids,” Susy and Katy Groff, who live in single blessedness and great neatness. They wore pretty, clear-starched Mennist caps, very plain. Katy is a sweet-looking woman; and, although she is more than sixty years old, her forehead is almost unwrinkled, and her fine fair hair is still brown. It was late when the farmer’s wife came,—three o’clock; for she had been to Lancaster. She wore hoops, and was of the “world’s people.” These women all spoke “Dutch;” for “the maids,” whose ancestor came here probably one hundred and fifty years ago, do not yet speak English with fluency.

The first subject of conversation was the fall house-cleaning; and I heard mention of “die carpet hinaus an der fence,” and “die fenshter und die porch;” and the exclamation, “My goodness, es war schlimm” (it was bad). I quilted faster than Katy Groff, who showed me her hands, and said, “You have not been corn-husking, as I have.”

So we quilted and rolled, talked and laughed, got one quilt done, and put in another. The work was not fine; we laid it out by chalking around a small plate. Aunt Sally’s desire was rather to get her quilting finished upon this great occasion, than for us to put in a quantity of needlework.

About five o’clock we were called to supper. I need not tell you all the particulars of this plentiful meal. But the stewed chicken was tender, and we had coffee again.

Polly M.’s husband now came over the creek in the boat, to take her home, and he warned her against the evening dampness. The rest of us quilted a while by candle and lamp, and got the second quilt done at about seven.

At this quilting I heard but little gossip, and less scandal. I displayed my new alpaca, and my dyed merino, and the Philadelphia bonnet which exposes the back of my head to the wintry blast. Polly, for her part, preferred her black silk sun-bonnet; and so we parted, with mutual invitations to visit.

“SINGINGS.”

Mary ⸺ tells me that she once attended a “singing” among the Amish. About nightfall, on a Sunday evening in summer, a half-dozen “girls” and a few more “boys” met at the house of one of the members. They talked a while first on common subjects, and then sang hymns from the Amish hymn-book in the German tongue. They chanted in the slow manner common in their religious meetings; but Mary says that some are now learning to sing by note, and are improving their manner. They thus intoned until about ten o’clock, and then laid aside their hymn-books, and the old folks went to bed. Then the young people went out into the wash-house, or outside kitchen, so as not to wake the sleepers, and played, “Come, Philander, let’s be marching,” and

“The needle’s eye we do supply With thread that runs so true; And many a lass have I let pass Because I wanted you.”

Which game seems to be the same as

“Open the gates as high as the sky And let King George and his troops go by.”

In these kissing plays, and in some little romping among the young men, the time was spent until about two or three in the morning, when they separated, two girls from a distance staying all night. Mary was able to sleep until daylight only, for no allowance is made for those who partake in these gay vigils to make up in the morning for loss of sleep.

There were no refreshments upon this occasion, but once at a singing at Christ. Yoder’s, it is said that the party took nearly all the pies out of the cellar, and the empty plates were found in the wash-house next morning.

Dancing-parties are not unknown among us, but they are not popular among the plain people whom I especially describe.

FARMING.

In this fertile limestone district farming is very laborious, being entirely by tillage. Our regular routine is once in five years to plough the sod ground for corn. In the next ensuing year the same ground is sowed with oats; and when the oats come off in August, the industrious “Dutchmen” immediately manure the stubble-land for wheat. I have seen them laying the dark-brown heaps upon the yellow stubble, when, in August, I have ridden some twelve or fourteen miles down to the hill-country for blackberries.

After the ground is carefully prepared, wheat and timothy (grass) seed are put in with a drill, and in the ensuing spring clover is sowed upon the same ground. By July, when the wheat is taken off the ground, the clover and timothy are growing, and will be ready to mow in the next or fourth summer. In the fifth the same grass constitutes a grazing-ground, and then the sod is ready to be broken up again for Indian corn. Potatoes are seldom planted here in great quantities; a part of one of the oat-fields or corn-fields can be put into potatoes, and the ground will be ready by fall to be put into wheat, if it is desired. A successful farmer put more than half of his forty acres into wheat; this being considered the best crop. The average crop of wheat is about twenty bushels, of Indian corn about forty. I have heard of one hundred bushels of corn in the Pequea valley, but this is very rare.

When the wheat and oats are in the barn or stack, enormous eight-horse threshers, whose owners go about the neighborhood from farm to farm, thresh the crop in two or three days; and thus what was once a great job for winter may all be finished by the first of October.

Jacob E. is a model farmer. His buildings and fences are in good order, and his cattle well kept. He is a little past the prime of life; his beautiful head of black hair being touched with silver. His wife is dimpled and smiling, and her weight of nearly two hundred does not prevent her being active, energetic, forehanded, and “thorough-going.” During the winter months the two sons go to the public school,—the older one with reluctance; there they learn to read and write and cipher, and possibly they study geography; they speak English at school, and “Dutch” at home. Much education the “Dutch” farmer fears, as productive of laziness; and laziness is a mortal sin here. The E.’s rarely buy a book. I suggested to one of our neighbors that he might advantageously have given a certain son a chance with books. “Don’t want no books,” was the answer. “There’s enough goes to books! Get so lazy after a while they won’t farm.” The winter is employed partly in preparing material to fertilize the wheat-land during the coming summer. Great droves of cattle and sheep come down our road from the West, and our farmers buy from these, and fatten stock during the winter months for the Philadelphia market. A proper care of his stock will occupy some portion of the farmer’s time. A farmer’s son told me also of cutting wood and quarrying stone in the winter, adding, “If a person wouldn’t work in the winter, they’d be behindhand in the spring.”

Besides these, the farmer has generally a great “freundschaft,” or family connection, both his and his wife’s; and the paying visits within a range of twenty or thirty miles, and receiving visits in return, help to pass away the time. Then Jacob and Susanna are actively benevolent; they are liable to be called upon, summer and winter, to wait on the sick and to help bury the dead. Susanna was formerly renowned as a baker at funerals, where her services were freely given.

This rich level land of ours is highly prized by the “Dutch” for farming purposes, and the great demand has enhanced the price. The farms, too, are small, seventy acres being a fair size. When Seth R., the rich preacher, bought his last farm from an “Englishman,” William G. said to him, “Well, Seth, it seems as if you Dutch folks had determined to root us English out; but thee had to pay pretty dear for thy root this time.”

There are some superstitious ideas that still hold sway here, regarding the growth of plants. A young girl coming to us for cabbage-plants said that it was a good time to set them out, for “it was in the Wirgin.” It is very doubtful whether she knew _what_ was in Virgo, but I suppose that it was the moon. So our farmer’s wife tells me that the Virgin will do very well for cabbages, but not for any plant like beans, for, though they will flower well, they will not mature the fruit. Fence should be set in the up-going of the moon; meat butchered in the down-going will shrink in the pot.

FARMERS’ WIVES.

One of my “Dutch” neighbors, who, from a shoemaker, became the owner of two farms, said to me, “The woman is more than half;” and his own very laborious wife (with her portion) had indeed been so.

The woman (in common speech, “the old woman”) milks, raises the poultry, has charge of the garden,—sometimes digging the ground herself, and planting and hoeing, with the assistance of her daughters and the “maid,” when she has one. (German, _magd_.) To be sure, she does not go extensively into vegetable-raising, nor has she a large quantity of strawberries and other small fruits; neither does she plant a great many peas and beans, that are laborious to “stick.” She has a quantity of cabbages and of “red beets,” of onions and of early potatoes, in her garden, a plenty of cucumbers for winter pickles, and store of string-beans and tomatoes, with some sweet potatoes.

Peter R. told me that in one year, off their small farm, they sold “two hundred dollars’ worth of _wedgable_ things, not counting the butter.” As in that year the clothing for each member of the family probably cost no more than fifteen dollars, the two hundred dollars’ worth of vegetable things was of great importance.

Our “Dutch” never make _store_-cheese. At a county fair, only one cheese was exhibited, and that was from Chester County. The farmer’s wife boards all the farm-hands, and the mechanics—the carpenter, mason, etc.—who put up the new buildings, and the fence-makers. At times she allows the daughters to go out and husk corn. It was a pretty sight which I saw one fall day,—an Amish man with four sons and daughters, husking in the field. “We do it all ourselves,” said he.

(Said a neighbor, “A man told me once that he was at an Amish husking—a husking-match in the kitchen. He said he never saw as much sport in all his life. There they had the bloom-sock. There was one old man, quite gray-headed, and gray-bearded; he laughed till he shook.” Said another, “There’s not many huskings going on now. The most play now goes on at the infares.”)

In winter mornings perhaps the farmer’s wife goes out to milk in the stable with a lantern, while her daughters get breakfast; has her house “redd up” about eight o’clock, and is prepared for several hours’ sewing before dinner, laying by great piles of shirts for summer. We no longer make linen; but I have heard of one “Dutch” girl who had a good supply of domestic linen made into shirts and trousers for the future spouse whose fair proportions she had not yet seen.

There are, of course, many garments to make in a large family, but there is not much work put upon them. We do not yet patronize the sewing-machine very extensively, but a seamstress or tailoress is sometimes called in. At the spring cleaning the labors of the women folk are increased by whitewashing the picket-fences.