"AUNT TWADDLES"
"As I paused in the middle of the road near the gate," began the
vagabond, "this manly little fellow who so kindly brought me a drink
from the well, wanted to know where I came from. In answer to his
question let me say: I am, as you see, a friendless vagabond, wandering
hither and thither over the face of the earth. But think not that I
never had a home; for although I may not look it, I once had a dear
mother, just as each one of you has, who, when I was a baby kissed me
and rocked me to sleep every night with a sweet lullaby. But that was a
long time ago, and it is little wonder that, as you now gaze upon me,
you are anxious to know who I am and whence I came.
"Now I might be an earthly prince in disguise for aught that you know,
though I'm not. Yet right here let me say, I _am_ the son of a King, for
we are _all_ the children of God and our earthly end is alike in this
dust that some of you children at first so pretended to scorn as you saw
it all over my clothes. So from this on, remember, we are only of the
dust; and the babies of satins and silks, all humbled at last, shall lie
down and sleep side by side with the children of tatters and rags.
"Be that as it may; I was born in the village of Harpers Ferry on the
banks of the fair Shenandoah River, where lofty mountains rise and
overhang with rugged cliffs that seem about to fall into the deep valley
below; and where, in order to get into the town at all, the trains pass
through a dark tunnel in the mountains, and leaping with shrill whistle
across the long span of a great steel bridge, slow down and stop at a
quaint, stone station, so closely surrounded by tall mountains on all
sides that a traveller might think himself at the very end of the world.
"It is here that the wild Shenandoah empties its foaming waters into the
Potomac River, (for be it remembered that the two streams were joined in
Holy wedlock by the Indians long, long ago), and mingling their currents
in loving embrace, they leap onward through a pass in the mountains and
together journey joyfully eastward toward the sea.
"As the stranger stands upon the platform at the little stone station,
and gazes far across the Shenandoah River, he cannot help noticing a
dark path, or roadway, leading straight up the face of a steep cliff;
and long will he wonder how it could ever be possible to climb that
path, for it stands almost straight up and down.
"Right here let me say there are but three persons on earth who can
truthfully boast of having once included that path as a part of their
journey; while strangest of all is the fact that one of these was an old
woman, so awkward and fat that she looked to be almost helpless, while
the other two, at the time of ascent, were mere children.
"For many years prior to the time of my story, (how long, nobody ever
could tell), there dwelt an old woman somewhere up in these mountains,
and unless something has happened to her recently she is living there
still.
"She was a strange-looking creature and from her jolly, good nature and
laughing, happy way, had grown in weight until she must have tipped the
scales at fully five hundred pounds.
"She did not look in the least like a mountain climber, nor in fact
hardly able to mount a short flight of stairs; yet she was a quite
frequent wanderer up and down the opposite bank of the river, where most
of her time was spent in gathering wild herbs on the rough side of the
mountain, or along the fertile bed of the Shenandoah.
"When the great bag, which she always carried slung over her shoulder,
was filled with herbs almost to bursting, she would start at the bottom
of this high cliff, and, aided by the scrubby bushes that grew from the
dark fissures in the mountain's time scarred face, she would manage in
some mysterious way to drag her full five hundred weight with its load
to the top, and then disappear in the mountain woodland above.
"It was not only a tiresome, but likewise a dangerous journey, for there
were few places where she could catch her toes in the steep rock; and as
she climbed slowly upward, and with much difficulty felt for each
foothold, her great body swayed and staggered upon the face of the
cliff, while she puffed and blew from her toil so loudly that her heavy
breathing could plainly be heard far across in the village of Harpers
Ferry.
"Never did she go up the cliff but that great boulders would break loose
under her ponderous tread, and tumbling headlong with mighty bound,
would dash down the steep mountain-side and land with a roaring crash in
the bed of the river below, where to this day they may be seen choking
the tide of the stream in a great rocky mass.
"In many ways this strange woman was more odd than she looked. She was
not very high, but so terribly spread out that she was equally as tall
when lying down as when standing up; and if, like a turtle, she might
have drawn in her feet and her head, she could have rolled about over
the ground like a great ball—but of course she was not a turtle.
"The garments, too, that she wore, both in make and material, were
strange to look upon. Her skirt, which could never have been made for
another, was fully a foot too long. It entirely concealed her feet,
which could not have been small, and so caused her to stumble and trip
that often indeed have I wondered how she could get along with her big
bag of herbs over a level road, much less up a path on the face of the
cliff, that even the bravest of hunters and mountain-men dared not
attempt to climb. Thus she went stumbling along in her own silent,
industrious way.
"And now comes the strangest thing of all about this wonderful, fat
woman.
"Many are the grown people that have passed her while busy at her labor
of herb gathering, yet not for a moment would she stop work to talk with
any of them. If they smiled, she might look up and smile in reply; but
if they asked her a question she would answer it with such an uncivil
grunt that they were glad to pass rapidly along on their way.
"But should she happen to meet with a group of gay children, this
strange, fat woman was sure to drop her big bag of herbs, and pausing
for a long jolly chat, would unbosom her goodness of heart and draw from
her ponderous pockets handful after handful of candy and pop-corn balls,
taffy and chocolate drops, the like of which for sweetness and flavor,
no mortal man had ever made.
"Nor was she in the least inclined to be stingy for she would give the
children as much of her sweets as they could eat and then bid them
good-bye with a kiss and a parting blessing. For so many years had she
thus kindly treated the children that they watched for her coming and
going day after day and were ever on the lookout to greet her, with
tears of joy in their eyes.
"The name of this fat woman was 'Twaddles;' and as nobody thereabout
knew just whether she was a Miss or a Mrs., the children had nicknamed
her 'Auntie,' although that might have been as big a mistake as either
of the other two names. But it sounded motherly and sweet to her ears,
and, as its mention was sure to bring forth an abundance of bon-bons and
candies, all of the grown people as well as the children called her
'Aunt Twaddles.'
"Where did she come from? you ask. Well, for many years nobody ever
could tell. Some claimed that she lived in a nest with the eagles far
off in the mountains. Others, that she dwelt alone with some half grown
cubs in the heart of a dark bear den, where the foot of a hunter had
never passed; while some even vowed that at night all the humming birds
kept guard while she slept far back in a cave in the rocks.
"Old Nimrod, the hunter, declared, (and he had spent his whole life in
the mountains), that she was 'Queen of the Witches' and lived in the
dark hollow of a great tree, far down in a deep rocky glen, where
panthers and owls with wildcats and rattlesnakes dwell. Once when he saw
her, he said she was leading a pack of fierce wolves along on the side
of the mountain; and again she was holding a live panther close to her
breast and rocking it to sleep in her arms.
"At any rate, wherever she lived, so marvelous indeed was she skilled in
the art of making candy, that her praises were sung by the children far
and near; and strangest of all was the fact that, should you once eat a
little bite of it, the sweetness and flavor it left in your mouth lasted
for over a week, while its memory lasted a lifetime. Years might pass
silently away and the children who had once tasted of 'Aunt Twaddles''
candy grow up and be married, yet they could never forget it, though
they tried; while stranger still was the fact that a mere recollection
was sure to bring tears to the eyes, nor could one cease crying until he
went home and forgot about it.
"In proof of this part of my tale let me say; I remember one day as I
stood quite hidden from view amid the green alder-berry bushes that grew
on the bank of the river, I beheld 'Aunt Twaddles' coming slowly down
the edge of the stream. Her big bag was heavily laden with herbs, and,
as the sun was quite high in the heavens, she paused in the shade of a
tree near the foot of the steep path for a moment of rest before
starting up the dangerous face of the cliff, for she needed all of her
strength to go up.
"Just as she had comfortably seated herself on a log, I noticed a little
old man tottering across the long foot-bridge that led over from the
village. He was hurrying along, rapping his feet and his staff on the
boards as fast as his seventy-odd years would allow. His long,
snow-white hair waved on the midsummer breeze, while the long flaps of
his old-fashioned coat were dangling about his thin, wabbly legs in a
manner too funny for anything.
"As he drew near, I noticed that there were real tears in his eyes, and
his withered old cheeks were much stained where they had fallen.
Carefully I watched him as he drew near, and, with a feeling of deepest
respect bowed low as he said in a tremulous, squeaky voice:
"'Good morning, Aunt Twaddles. Would you mind giving an old, life-long
friend another bit of your candy?'
"In a second 'Aunt Twaddles' arose.
"'No sir!' she cried, with a frown, 'I gave you plenty of it, Sir, when
you were a good little boy. Tobacco seems to be your favorite candy now
from the appearance of your stained white beard, so you get none of
mine.'
"And she began to empty her pockets that were filled with sweet, juicy
bon-bons, over the brink and down into the stream; and shouldering her
big bag of herbs, prepared to start up the face of the cliff. The little
old man went tottering back over the foot-bridge to the village; nor is
there any doubt that he went home and cried over the thought of her
candy and kept crying until he forgot about it.
"And now," said the vagabond, "lest the thought of 'Aunt Twaddles''
candy brings tears to my eyes, for I have eaten some of it myself, let
us pause for a moment while we more comfortably seat ourselves before I
proceed with the story."
The almost vertical rays of the mid-day sun were pouring a merciless
fire upon a portion of the charmed circle and the story-teller with his
group of merry children was not slow in selecting a new spot further in
under the protecting branches of the tree. The children had been so
absorbed in the wonderful tale of the wanderer that they had failed to
notice the intense heat until, down the faces of some of the smaller
ones, drops of perspiration were flowing like tears.
Amid a clamorous shout of "Go on! Go on!" uttered in concert by the
delighted children, it was thus the wanderer continued.
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