an aunt something else; but every body hasn't had an Aunt POLLY--i. e.
_such_ an Aunt Polly as mine! Most Aunt Pollies have been the
exemplars and promulgators of "single blessedness"--not such was
_she_! But more of this anon. Aunt Polly was the only sister of my
father, who often spoke of her affectionately; but would end his
remark with "poor Polly! so nervous--so unlike her self-possessed and
beautiful mother"--whose memory he devoutly revered. Children are not
destitute of the curiosity native to the human mind, and we often
teased papa about a visit from Aunt Polly, who, he replied, never left
home; but not enlightening us on the _why_, his replies only served to
whet the edge of curiosity more and more. I never shall forget the
surprise that opened my eye-lids early and wide one morning, when it
was announced to me that Aunt Polly and her spouse had unexpectedly
arrived at the homestead. It would be difficult to analyze the nature
of that eagerness which hastily dressed and sent me down stairs. But
unfortunately did I enter the breakfast-room just as the good book was
closing, and the family circle preparing to finish its devotions on
the knee; however, a glance of the eye takes but little time, and a
penetrating look was returned me by Aunt Polly, in which the beaming
affection of her sanguine nature, and the scowl of scarce restrained
impatience to get hold of me, were mixed so strangely as to give her
naturally sharp black eyes an expression almost fearful to a child;
but on surveying her unique apparel, and indescribably uneasy position
on the chair--for she remained seated while the rest of us knelt,
giving me thus an opportunity to scrutinize her through the
interstices of my chair-back--so excited my girlish risibilities, that
fear became stifled in suppressed laughter. "Amen" was scarce
pronounced, when a shrill voice called out--"Come here, you little
good-for-nothing--_what's_ your name?" The inviting smile conveyed to
me with these startling tones left no doubt who was addressed, and I
instantly obeyed the really fervent call. Both the stout arms of my
aunt were opened to receive me, but held me at their length,
while--with a nervous sensibility that made the tears gush from her
eyes--she hurriedly exclaimed--"_What_ shall I do with you? Do you
love to be _squeezed_? When, suiting the action to the question, she
embraced me with a tenacity that almost choked my breath. From that
moment I loved Aunt Polly! The fervid outpouring of her affection had
mingled with the well-springs of a heart that--despite its
mischievousness--was ever brimming with love. The first gush of
feeling over, Aunt Polly again held me at arm's distance, while she
surveyed intently my features, and traced in the laughing eye and
golden ringlets the likeness of her "_dearest_ brother in the world!"
Poor aunty had but one! Nor was my opportunity lost of looking right
into the face I had so often desired to see. It would be hard to draw
a picture of Aunt Polly in words, so good as the reader's fancy will
supply. There was nothing peculiar in her tall, stout figure; in her
well developed features--something between the Grecian and the
Roman--in her complexion, which one could see had faded from a glowing
brunette to a pale Scotch snuff color. But her eyes, they _were_
peculiar--so black--so rapid in their motions--so penetrating when
looking forward--so flashing when she laughed, that really--I never
saw such eyes!
It would be still more puzzling to describe her dress. She wore a real
chintz of the olden time, filled with nosegays, as unlike to Nature's
flowers as the fashion of her gown was to the dresses of modern dames
of her sixty years. Though I don't believe Aunt Polly's attire looked
like any body else's at the time it was made; at any rate, it was put
on in a way that differed from the pictures I had seen of the
old-school ladies. Her cap was indeed the crowner! but let that pass,
for the old lady had these dainty articles so carefully packed in what
had been a sugar-box, that no doubt they were _sweet_ to any _taste_
but mine. I said that Aunt Polly was not a spinster. A better idea of
her lord cannot be given than in her own words to my eldest sister,
who declared in her hearing that she would never marry a minister.
"Hush, hush, my dear!" said Aunt Polly, "I remember saying, when I was
a girl, that whatever faults my husband might have, he should never be
younger than myself--have red hair, or stammer in his speech: all
these objections were united in the man I married!"
One more fact will convey to the imagination all that I need say of
Aunt Polly's husband. Late one evening came a thundering knock at my
father's door, and as all the servants had retired, a youth who
happened to be staying with us at the time, started, candle in hand,
to answer it: Now the young man was of a credulous turn, and had just
awakened from a snooze in his chair. Presently a loud shriek called
all who were up in the house to the door, where, lying prostrate and
faint, was found the youth, and standing over him, with eye-balls
distended--making ineffectual efforts to speak--was the husband of
Aunt Polly. When the lad recovered, all that he could tell of his
mishap was, that on opening the street-door a man, wrapped in a large
over-coat, with glassy eyes staring straight at him, opened and shut
his mouth four times without uttering a syllable--when the candle
fell from his hands, and he to the floor! Aunt Polly's spouse was the
prince of stammerers! But if he could seldom _begin_ a sentence, so
Aunt Polly could seldom _finish_ one: indeed the most noticeable
_point_ in her conversation was, that it had _no_ point, or was made
up of sentences broken off in the middle. This may have been
physiologically owing to the velocity with which the nervous fluid
passed through her brain, giving uncommon rapidity to her thoughts,
and correspondingly to the motions of her body. It soon became a
wonder to my girlish mind how Aunt Polly ever kept still long enough
to listen to a declaration of love--especially from a stutterer--or
even to respond to the marriage ceremony.
My wonder now is, how the functions of her system ever had time to
fulfill their offices, or the flesh to accumulate, as it did, to a
very respectable consistency; for she never, to my knowledge, finished
a meal while under our roof; nor do I believe that she ever slept
_out_ a nap in her life. As she became a study well fitted to interest
one of my novel, fun-loving age, I used often to steal out of bed at
different times in the night and peep from my own apartment into hers,
which adjoined it, where a night lamp was always burning; for she
insisted on having the door between left open. I invariably found
those eyes of hers wide awake, and my own room being dark, took
pleasure in watching her unobserved, as she fidgeted now with her
ample-bordered night-cap, and now with the bed-clothes. Once was I
caught by a sudden cough on my part, which brought Aunt Polly to her
feet before I had time to slip back to bed; and the only plea that my
guiltiness could make her kind remonstrance on my being up in the
cold, was the very natural and very wicked fib, that I heard her move
and thought she might want something. Unsuspecting old lady! May her
ashes at least rest in peace! How she caught me in her arms, kissed
and carried me to bed, tucking in the blankets so effectually that all
attempts to get up again that night were vain! Oh, she was a love of
an aunt! The partiality of her attachment to me might have been
accounted for by her having had no children of her own; or to the
evident interest which she excited in me, causing my steps to follow
her wherever she went; though all the family endeavored to make her
first and last visit as agreeable as possible. But every attempt to
fasten her attention to an object of interest or curiosity long enough
to understand it, was unavailing. Sometimes I sallied out with her
into the street, and while rather pleased than mortified by the
observation which her grotesque costume and nervous, irregular gait
attracted, it was different with me when she attempted to shop; as
more often than otherwise, she would begin to pay for articles
purchased, and putting her purse abruptly in her pocket, hurry toward
the door, as if on purpose to avoid a touch on the elbow, which
sometimes served to jog her memory also, and sometimes the very
purchases were forgotten, till I became their witness.
On the whole, Aunt Polly's visit was a source of more amusement to me
than all the visits of all my school-mates put together. When we
parted--for I truly loved her--I forgave the squeeze--a screw-turn
tighter than that at our meeting--and promised through my tears to
make her a visit whenever my parents would consent to it. The
homestead was as still for a week after her departure, as a ball-room
after the waltzers have all whirled themselves home. Hardly had the
family clock-work commenced its methodical revolutions again, when a
letter arrived; and who that knew Aunt Polly, could have mistaken its
characteristic superscription.
My father was well-known at the post office, or the
half-written-out-name would never have found its way into his box.
Internally, the letter was made up of broken sentences, big with love,
like the large, fragmentary drops of rain from a passing summer cloud.
By dint of patient perseverance we "gathered up the fragments, so that
nothing was lost" of Aunt Polly's itinerant thoughts or wishes.
Among the latter was an invitation for me to visit her, on which my
father looked silently and negatively; but I was not thus to be denied
a desire of the heart, and insisted on having an audible response to
my request of permission to fulfill the parting promise to Aunt Polly.
In vain did my father give first an evasive answer, and then hint at
the disappointment likely to await such a step--recall to my mind the
eccentricities of his "worthy sister"--endeavor by all gentle means of
persuasion to deter me from my purpose, and finally try to frighten me
out of it. I was incorrigible.
Not long after, a gentleman who resided in the town with my aunt, came
to visit us, and being alone in a comfortable one-horse vehicle, was
glad enough to accept my offered company on his way home; so, gaining
the reluctant consent of my mother, I started, full of an indefinite
sort of pleasurable expectation, nourished by the changing diorama of
a summer afternoon's ride through a cultivated part of the country.
Arriving at the verge of a limpid stream, my companion turned the
horse to drink, so suddenly, that the wheels became cramped, and we
were precipitated into the water, the wagon turning a summerset
directly over our heads. Strange to say, neither of us were hurt, and
the stream was shallow, though deep enough to give us a thorough cold
bath, and to deluge the trunk containing my clothes, the lock of which
flew open in the fall. My mortified protector crept from under our
capsized ark as soon as he could, and let me out at the window; when I
felt myself to be in rather a worse condition than was Noah's dove,
who "found no rest for the sole of her foot;" for beside dripping from
all my garments, like a surcharged umbrella, my soul, too, found no
foothold of excuse on which to stand justified before my father for
exposing myself to such an _emergence_ without his knowledge. However,
_return_ we must. Nor was the situation of my conductor's body or mind
very enviable, being obliged to present me to my parents, drooping
like a water-lily. But if ill-luck had pursued us, good luck awaited
our return; for we found that my father had not yet arrived from his
business, and my mother's conscience kept our secret; so that
frustration in my first attempt to visit Aunt Polly, was all the evil
that came out of the adventure. Notwithstanding my ardor had been so
damped with cold water, it was yet warm enough for another effort;
though it must be confessed, that for a few days subsequent to the
accident, my animal spirits were something in the state of
over-night--uncorked champagne.
The first sign of their renewed vitality was the again expressed
desire to visit Aunt Polly. I, however, learned obedience by the
things I had suffered, and resolved not to venture on another
expedition without the approval and protection of my father, who,
because of my importunity, at length consented to accompany me,
provided I would not reveal to Aunt Polly the proposed length of my
visit until I had spent a day and night under her roof. This I readily
consented to, thinking only at the time what a strange proviso it was.
Accordingly, arrangements were soon completed for the long coveted
journey; but not until I had remonstrated with my mother on her
limited provision for my wardrobe, furnishing me only with what a
small carpet-bag would contain.
After a ride of some forty miles, through scenery that gave fresh
inspiration to my hopes, we arrived at the witching hour of sunset,
before a venerable-looking farm-house. Its exterior gave no signs in
the form of shrubbery or flowers of the decorating, refining hand of
woman; but the sturdy oak and sycamore were there to give shade, and
the life-scenes that surrounded the farm-yard were plenty in promise
of eggs and poultry for the keen appetites of the travelers.
As we drove into the avenue leading to a side-door of the mansion, I
caught a glimpse of Aunt Polly's unparalleled cap through a window,
and the next moment she stood on the steps, wringing her hands and
crying for joy. An involuntary dread of another _squeezing_ came over
me, which had scarce time to be idealized ere it was realized almost
to suffocation. My father's more graduated look of pleasure, called
from Aunt Polly an out-bursting--"_Forgive_ me, _forgive_ me! It's my
only brother in the world! It's my dear little puss all over again!
_Forgive_ me, _forgive_ me!" But during these ejaculations I was
confirmed in a discovery that had escaped all my vigilance while Aunt
Polly sojourned with us. She was a snuff-taker! That she took snuff,
as she did every thing else, by _snatches_, I had also ascertained, on
seeing her in the door, when she thought herself yet beyond the reach
of our vision, forgetting that young eyes can see further than old
eyes; _mine_ could not be deceived in the convulsive motion that
carried her fore-finger and thumb to the tip of her olfactory organ,
which drew up one snuff of the fragrant weed--as hurriedly as a
porpoise puts his head out of water for a snuff of the sweet air of
morning--when scattering the rest of the pinch to the four winds, she
forgot, in her excitement, for once, to wipe the traces from her upper
lip. Had I only suspected before, the hearty sneeze on my part that
followed close upon her kiss, would have made that suspicion a
certainty. Aunt Polly was, indeed, that inborn abhorrence of mine, a
snuff-taker! Thus my rosy prospects began to assume a yellowish tinge
before entering the house; what color they took afterward it would be
difficult to tell; for the wild confusion of its interior, gave to my
fancy as many and as mixed hues as one sees in a kaleidoscope.
The old-fashioned parlor had a corner cupboard, which appeared to be
put to any use but the right one, while the teacups and saucers--no
whole set alike--were indiscriminately arranged _on_ the side-board,
and _in_ it I saw, as the door stood ajar, Aunt Polly's bonnet and
shawl; a drawer, too, being half open, disclosed one of her _sweetish_
caps, side by side with a card of gingerbread. The carpet was woven of
every color, in every form, but without any definite _figure_, and
promised to be another puzzle for my curious eyes to unravel; it
seemed to have been just _thrown_ down with here and there a tack in
it, only serving to make it look more awry. While amusing myself with
this carpet, it recalled an incident that a roguish cousin of mine
once related to me after he had been to see Aunt Polly, connected with
this parlor, which she always called her "_square_-room!" One day
during his visit the old lady having occasion to step into a
neighbor's house, while a pot of lard was trying over the kitchen
fire, and not being willing to trust her half-trained servants to
watch it, she gave the precious oil in charge to this youth, who was
one of her favorites, bidding him, after a stated time, remove it from
the chimney to a cooling-place; now not finishing her directions, the
lad indulged his mischievous propensities by attempting to place the
kettle of boiling lard to cool in the square-room fire-place; but
finding it heavier than his strength could carry, its contents were
suddenly deposited on the carpet, save such sprinklings as served to
brand his face and hands as the culprit of the mischief.
The terrified boy hearing Aunt Polly's step on the threshold, took the
first way that was suggested to him of escaping her wrath, which led
out at the window. Scarce had his agile limbs landed him safe on
_terra firma_, when the door opened, and, preceded by a shriek that
penetrated his hiding-place, he heard Aunt Polly's lamentable
lamentation--"It's my _square_-room! my square-room _carpet_! Oh! that
_I_ should live to see it come to this!" and again, and again, were
these heart-thrilling exclamations reiterated. The lad, finding that
all the good lady's excitement was likely to be spent on the
square-room--though, alas! all wouldn't exterminate the
grease--recovered courage and magnanimity enough to reveal himself as
the author of the catastrophe, which he did with such contrition,
showing at the same time his wounds, that Aunt Polly soon began "to
take on" about her dear boy, to the seeming forgetfulness, while
anointing his burns, of the kettle of lard and her unfortunate
square-room.
But I must take up again the broken thread of my own adventures in
this square-room, where I left Aunt Polly flourishing about in joy at
our unexpected arrival.
A large, straight-backed rocking-chair stood in one corner of this
apartment, and on its cushion--stuffed with feathers, and covered with
blazing chintz--lay a large gray cat curled up asleep--decidedly the
most comfortable looking object in the room--till Aunt Polly
unceremoniously shook her out of her snug quarters to give my father
the chair. I then discovered that poor puss was without a tail! On
expressing my surprise, aunt only replied--"Oh, _my_ cats are all so!"
And, true enough, before we left, I saw some half dozen round the
house, all deficient in this same graceful appendage of the feline
race. The human domestics of the family were only half-grown--but half
did their work, and seemed altogether naturalized to the whirligig
spirit of their mistress. The reader may anticipate the consequences
to the culinary and table arrangements. For supper we had, not
unleavened bread, but that which contained "the little leaven," that
having had no time to "leaven the whole lump," rendered it still
heavier of digestion; butter half-worked, tea made of water that did
not get time to boil, and slack-baked cakes. I supped on cucumbers,
and complaining of fatigue, was conducted by my kind aunt to the
sleeping apartment next her own, as it would seem like old times to
have me so near. What was wanting to make my bed comfortable, might
have been owing to the fact, that the feathers under me had been only
half-baked, or were picked from geese of Aunt Polly's raising; at any
rate, I was as restless as the good lady herself until daylight, when
I fell into as uneasy dreams--blessing the ducking that saved me a
more lingering fate before. After a brief morning-nap I arose, and
seeing fresh eggs brought in from the farm-yard, confidently expected
to have my appetite appeased, knowing that they could be cooked in
"less than no time;" but here again disappointment awaited me. For
once, Aunt Polly's mis-hit was in _over_-doing. The coffee sustained
in part her reputation, being half-roasted, half-ground, half-boiled,
and, I may add, half-swallowed. After this breakfast--or keepfast--my
father archly inquired of me aside, how long I wished him to leave me
with Aunt Polly, as he must return immediately home. Horror at the
idea of being left at all overcame the mortification that my reaction
of feeling naturally occasioned, and throwing my arms around his neck,
I implored him to take me back with him. This reply he took as coolly
as if he were prepared for it. Not so did Aunt Polly receive the
announcement of my departure. She insisted that I had promised her a
_visit_, and this was no visit at all. My father humored her fondness
with his usual tact; but on telling her that it was really necessary
for me to return to school, the kind woman relinquished at once her
selfish claims, in view of a greater good to me.
Poor Aunt Polly! if my affection for her was less disinterested than
her own, it was none the less in quantity; and I never loved her more
than when she gave me that cruelest of squeezes at our parting, which
proved to be the last--for I never saw her again. But in proof that
she loved me to the end, I was remembered in her will; and did I not
believe that if living, her generous affection, that was the precious
oil through which floated her eccentricities like "flies as big as
bumble-bees," would smooth over all appearance of ridicule in these
reminiscences, they should never amuse any one save myself. But
really, I cannot better carry out her restless desire of pleasing
others, than by reproducing the merriment which throughout a long life
was occasioned by her, who of all the Aunt Pollies that ever lived,
was _the_ AUNT POLLY!
STUDY. (Extract.)
Life, like the sea, hath yet a few green isles
Amid the waste of waters. If the gale
Has tossed your bark, and many weary miles
Stretch yet before you, furl the battered sail,
Fling out the anchor, and with rapture hail
The pleasant prospect--storms will come too soon.
They are but suicides, at best, who fail
To seize when'er they can Joy's fleeting boon--
Fools, who exclaim "'tis night," yet always shun the noon.
Live not as though you had been born for naught.
Save like the brutes to perish. What do they
But crop the grass and die? Ye have been taught
A nobler lesson--that within the clay,
Upon the minds high altar, burns a ray
Flashed from Divinity--and shall it shine
Fitful and feebly? Shall it die away,
Because, forsooth, no priest is at the shrine?
Go ye with learning's lamp and tend the fire divine.
Pore o'er the classic page, and turn again
The leaf of History--ye will not heed
The noisy revel and the shouts of men,
The jester and the mime, for ye can feed,
Deep, deep, on these; and if your bosoms bleed,
At tales of treachery and death they tell,
The land that gave you birth will never need
Tarpeian rock, that rock from which there fell
He who loved Rome and Rome's, yet loved himself too well.
And she, the traitress, who beneath the weight
Of Sabine shields and bracelets basely sank,
Stifled and dying, at the city-gate,
Lies buried there--and now the long weeds, dank
With baneful dews, bend o'er her, and the rank
Entangled grass, the timid lizard's home,
Covers the sepulchre--the wild flower shrank
To plant its roots in that polluted loam--
Pity that such a tomb should look o'er ruined Rome.
Rome! lovely in her ruins! Can they claim
Common humanity who never feel
The pulse beat higher at the very name,
The brain grow wild, and the rapt senses reel,
Drunken with happiness? O'er us should steal
Feelings too big for utt'rance--I should prize
Such joy above all earthly wealth and weal,
Nor barter it for love--when Beauty dies
Love spreads his silken wings. The happy are the wise.
HENRY S. HAGERT.
THE FANE-BUILDER.
BY EMMA C. EMBURY.
A poet's wreath shall be thine only crown,
A poet's memory thy most far renown. LAMENT OF TASSO.