COUSIN JEMIMA.
“Well, Phebe, I guess thee did not expect me this afternoon. Don’t get up. I will just lay my bonnet in the bedroom myself. Dinah Paddock told me thy quilt was in; so I came up as soon as I could. Laid out in orange-peel! I always did like orange-peel. Dinah’s was herring-bone; and thine is filled with wool, and plims up, and shows the works, as mother used to say. I’ll help thee roll before I sit down. Now then. Days are long, and we’ll try to do a stroke of work, for thee’s a branch quilter, I’ve heard say.
“Jethro Mitchell stopped to see me this morning. They got home from Ohio last week, and he says that Cousin Jemima Osborne’s very bad with typhoid fever. Poor Jemima! It had been pretty much through the family, and after nursing the rest, she was taken down. I almost know she has no one fit to take care of her,—only Samuel and the three boys, and maybe some hired girl that has all the housework to do. The neighbors will be very kind, to be sure, sitting up nights; but there’s been so much sickness in that country lately.
“Jemima was Uncle Brown Coffin’s daughter, thee knows, who used to live down at Sandwich, on the Cape, when thee and I were girls. She always came toNantucket to Quarterly Meeting with Uncle Brown and Aunt Judith; and folks used to say she wasn’t a bit of a coof, if she was born on the Cape. When Samuel and she were married, they asked me and Gorham Hussey to stand up with them. Jemima looked very pretty in her lavender silk and round rosy cheeks. When meeting was over, she whispered to me that there was a wasp or bee under her neck-handkerchief that had stung her while she was saying the ceremony. But I don’t think anybody perceived it, she was so quiet. Poor dear! I seem to see her now on a sick-bed and a rolling pillow.
“After my Edward died, I was so much alone that I thought I couldn’t bear it any longer, and I must just get up and go to Ohio, as Samuel and ’Mima had often asked me to. I stopped on the way at Mary Cooper’s at Beaver, and Mary’s son was joking a little about Cousin Samuel’s farming, and said he didn’t quite remember whether it was two or three fences that they had to climb going from the house to the barn-yard. I told him that Samuel wasn’t brought up to farming; he bought land when he moved out West.
“I found Jemima a good deal altered, now that she had a grown family; but we just began where we left off,—the same friendliness and kindness. When I was in Ohio was just when the English Friends, Jonathan and Hannah Purley, were in the country. We met them at Marlborough Quarterly Meeting. We were all together at William Smith’s house,—one of the neatest of places,—everything like waxwork, with three such daughters at home. How they worked to entertain Friends!
“First-day a great many world’s people were at meeting on account of the strange Friends. Meeting was very full,—nearly as many out in the yard as in the house. Very weighty remarks were made by Jonathan and Hannah. She spoke to my own state:—‘Leave thy widows and let thy fatherless children trust in Me.’ The meeting was disturbed some by the young babies; but we could hardly expect the mothers to stay away.
“Second-day was Quarterly Meeting. Of course the English Friends, being at William Smith’s, drew a great many others. We had forty to dinner. One of William’s daughters stayed in the kitchen, one waited on the table, and one sat down midway, where she could pass everything and wait on the Friends. It was in the Eighth Month, and we had a bountiful table of all the good things of that time of year,—vegetables and fruit too. William was a nurseryman.
“There was a little disturbance at breakfast, William’s son—a rather wild young man—making the young people laugh. We had fish,—mackerel, and little fresh fish out of the mill-dam. I sat near the middle, and heard Friend Smith at one end say to each, ‘Will thee have some of the mackerel, or some of these little dam-fish?’ Then young William, at the other end, spoke low to his friends: ‘Will thee have some of the mackerel, or some of these dam little fish?’ But most of the young women kept pretty serious countenances. When Quarterly Meeting was over, the English Friends went out to Indiana, visiting meetings and Friends’ families, and I went back with Cousin Samuel’s.
“I was dreadfully disappointed once. One evening Samuel and ’Mima and the rest of us were sitting roundthe table, and Samuel put his hand into his coat-pocket and drew out the paper and two or three letters. As he read, I noticed that one of the letters had not been opened, and caught sight of my name—Priscilla Gardner; so I put out my hand and took it. It was from sister Mary,—just as James and she were starting for California. She told me that they should stay in Pittsburg over one night, and she hoped I should be able to meet them there and bid them a long farewell. But when I looked again at the date of the letter, and glanced at the paper that Samuel was reading, I found that my letter was ten days old. The time had gone by. Oh, dear! I walked out into the kitchen and stood by the stove, in the dark, and cried. Some one came up behind me. Of course it was Jemima. She kissed me, and waited for me to speak. I gave her the letter, and in about ten minutes I felt able to go back to the sitting-room. When I sat down, Samuel said, ‘’Mima tells me, Priscilla, that thee is very much disappointed about thy letter. I had on this coat when I went to the post-office a week ago, and I didn’t put it on again till to-day. I hope thee’ll excuse me. Thomas, my son, will thee bring us some red-streaks? I feel as if I could eat a few apples.’
“I felt sorrowful for some time about my sister; but my mind was diverted when we got word that the English Friends were coming to our Monthly Meeting on their way back from Indiana; and as we lived very near the meeting-house, of course they would be at Samuel’s. As the time came near, Jemima and I were a good deal interested to have things nice. They were going to be at William Smith’s again, where everythingwas so neat, and I felt very anxious to make everything in-doors, at Jemima’s, as nice as we could.
“In the sitting-room was one empty corner, where the great rocking-chair ought to stand. It was broken, and put away in the bedroom. I wanted very much to have it mended; but it seemed as if we could not get it to Salem. One time the load would be too large, another the chair would be forgotten. At last one day it was put in the back of the covered wagon, and fairly started. When Samuel got home it was rather late in the evening, and I heard him say to ’Mima, ‘Only think of my forgetting thy large chair. I was late starting from home, thee knows; and when I got to Salem there was a good deal of talk about the war; and when I got halfway home I remembered the big chair in the back of the wagon. It can go in next week.’ We did send it again, but it did not get home before Monthly Meeting.
“Jemima had a very neat home-made carpet on the sitting-room: she had a great taste for carpets. As there had been some yards left, she let me cover the front entry too, and her youngest son Edward, a nice lad, helped me put it down. A little colored girl, near by, rubbed up the brass andirons for us, and Edward built up a pile of wood ready to kindle the fire when it was wanted. A good many panes of glass had been broken, and as we had just had an equinoctial storm, some old coats, and so on, had been stuffed in at several places; but we managed to get most of the glass put in before Monthly Meeting.
“When we had done all we could to the house, of course we began to think of the cooking. Jemima said, ‘I sha’n’t be able to get Mary Pearson to come andcook: she is nursing. I wonder whether I hadn’t better heat the oven on meeting-day. I can get the dinner in before I go; and then between meetings I can run over and see to it. I shall hardly be missed. I can slip in at the side-door of the meeting-house before Mary Ann has done reading the Minutes.’—‘Then thee will heat the oven?’ said I.—‘I reckon,’ she said; ‘but it is only a mud oven. Samuel has been talking for a good while about having a brick oven. This one is not very safe.’—‘Suppose I make a little sponge-cake, and put it in too,’ said I. ‘I’ll send for some sugar, if thee is willing. Polly Evans used to call me a dabster at sponge-cake.’
“Jemima was willing, and we began to get ready to go to the store. Edward and the little colored girl hunted the barn and the straw-shed, and brought in a quantity of eggs. All could not be sent, because we needed some at home, and some had been set on, and some had lain too long. Then Jemima sent to the garret for brooms and rags, and spared a little butter too for the store,—not much, to be sure, when Monthly Meeting was coming. I thought I might as well ride over with Edward; and when we had got coffee, and tea, and so on, and were just starting home, I caught sight of some lemons. I bought a few, and when I got home asked Jemima if she would not like some lemon-puddings. ‘Thy apple-pies and rice-puddings are nice, dear,’ I said; ‘but Hannah Purley and Jonathan are such strangers, we might go a little out of the common way.’ Jemima smiled at my being so anxious, but agreed, as she generally did.
“Fourth-day morning we were up very early. Jemimawas going to roast some fowls and a loin of veal. Edward and the little colored girl helped me to beat eggs, grate lemons, and roll sugar; and everything was ready for the oven before the Friends came in from a distance, who always stopped before meeting to get a cup of tea.
“We had a nice little table for them, of course,—dried beef, preserves, and so on; and one woman Friend, a single woman, asked for a warm flat-iron to press out her cap and handkerchief. At last we were ready to start. Jemima had set everything into the oven, which stood out in the yard. She put the meats back, and the cakes and puddings near the door, where it was not so hot. ‘The door isn’t very safe,’ said she, ‘and I propped a stick against it to keep it up. Don’t let the dog knock it down, Susan, while we are gone.’
“The day was beautiful; all signs of the storm over, except the roads a little muddy; and as we stepped over to the meeting-house Jemima whispered, ‘I am glad I told Susan to set both tables. I think we shall have a good many to dinner. I wanted cole-slaw, like Pennsylvania folks, but the cows broke in last night and ate all the solid cabbage.’ She did not talk of these things generally going into meeting; but our minds were very full.
“First meeting was rather long, for several Friends spoke besides the strangers. When it broke, Jemima stepped out, and I quietly followed her. We walked over to the house, and round into the side-yard, going toward the oven. But just as we had got into the yard we saw the old sow. She had broken out of the barn-yard, and had been wallowing in a pond of brown water near the fence. Now she had knocked down Jemima’sstick, and as the door fell I guess she smelt our good things, for she had her fore-feet upon the oven floor. We ran and screamed, but she did not turn. She made a jump up to the oven, over my cakes and puddings, the veal and chickens, and carried the oven roof off with her. Oh, dear! oh, dear! poor Jemima! I could laugh too, if it wasn’t so dreadful.â€
Reader.—And what did they do then?
Writer.—The best that they could. I do wonder at Jemima, poor thing, to undertake so much on Monthly Meeting day.