AUNT DEBIE AND HER FRIENDS.
"Did I not tell thee, Phoebe, that I was sartan there was going to
be a death, and like enough more than one? Does thee not remember
I told thee that on the first day, just before William Gurney
died? And thee sees now that what I said has come troo, for both
William and Annie have died since."
"Yes," said the person addressed as Phoebe, "thee then said thee
had warning of death and knoo some one was going to die, and that
thee thought there was going to be more than one. I remember just
as plainly as if thee had said it not more'n a minute ago."
"I thought thee'd mind it," said the first speaker, and there was
an accent of triumph in the tone of her voice as she spoke.
"I have known thee to tell before of things that jest happened as
thee said they would. Why, thee told there was going to be a death
just before Martha Foxe's child died; and whenever thee has told
me that such was to be the case, I ain't never known it to fail.
Tell us, Aunt Debie, how thee is able to foretell things as thee
does."
"Well, Phoebe, there is more ways than one that I get warnings. If
in the night I hear three loud raps, one after the other, I am
then sartan there is goen to be a death; and if there is more than
three then I knows there is goen to be more'n one death. If the
raps are loud and sharp, then I know the death or deaths are to be
right away; but if they be kind of easy like, I then know it will
be quite a while. Now, I hearn three raps last night. I was
awakened about one o'clock. I knoo it was one, 'cause I had the
rheumatiz so bad I couldn't sleep, and so I got up and went to the
fire to keep warm. I thought I would put my horn to my ear, and I
jest caught the faintest sound of the roosters crowin'; so when I
hearn that I knoo what time it was. Jest a little after that I
went back to bed, and I hadn't been there more'n a minute of two
before I hearn a rap, and then, in a little, I hearn another, and
then another; they sounded far away like, and awfully solemn. Is
it not strange that I can hear these things, when I cannot hear
anything else?"
"Yes," said Phoebe, "it is strange; but God's ways are mysterious
to us, and past finding out."
"Well," continued Aunt Debie, "I am sartan there is goen to be
another death; for I never hear these things but some of our
friends die."
"Oh," said Phoebe, solemnly, "I wonder who will be called for this
time."
"God knows best," remarked Debie, "and he ain't going to do wrong;
we must larn to trust Him."
"And then," she continued, "I have another way of knowing when
there is to be trouble, sickness, and death. If I dream of a
person walking through a corn or wheat field, I am then sartan
there is going to be trouble or sickness; if they are cutting the
wheat, or plucking the ears of corn, it is then sure to be
followed by a death. I suppose God reveals these things to me by
figures, the same as He did to Simon Peter in the long ago; for
ain't we all jest like wheat waiting for the sickle, or like corn
waiting till the time comes to be plucked by the Death Angel? I
suppose my heavenly Father reveals more to me than He does to
others, 'cause He, in His wisdom, has taken so much from me. He
has left me here a poor old woman, deaf, blind, and lame. I can't
see the faces of my friends through these poor sightless eyes, nor
the beauties of the fields and sky, nor the blossoms and fruit of
the trees, nor the flowers in the garden; neither can I hear the
sweet music of the birds, nor even the prattle of the dear little
children who come and kiss me, and let me play with their curls,
save through this horn. He only knows"--and Aunt Debie looked up
as she spoke--"how I long sometimes to see them. But, Father, Thou
knowest what is best: 'Though Thou slayest me, yet will I trust in
Thee.'"
This conversation occurred in Mrs. Gurney's parlor; for both Mr.
and Mrs. Gurney were originally Quakers, but, settling in Bayton
in their early married life, they joined another body, though they
ever retained a profound respect for the Church of their
childhood. In fact a great many of their relatives, and a very
large circle of friends in the surrounding country, belonged to
that body; and, as they are a people who are especially noted for
their social qualities and for their warm attachment to kinsfolk
and friends, the Gurneys very frequently received visits from
them.
The conversation, part of which I have given to my readers, took
place upon one of these visits. One of the parties present on this
occasion deserves more than a passing notice, as she was an
uncommon character.
Deborah Donaldson, or, as she was always called, "Aunt Debie,"
was, "after the strictest sect of her religion," a Quaker, and she
never quite forgave James and Martha Gurney for leaving the Church
of their fathers. She had been a widow for more than thirty years,
her husband having been killed by the falling of a limb from a
tree which he was chopping down, and she had been blind and deaf
for the greater part of that time.
She had been a woman of very great energy, and there were some who
hinted that she was the controlling member of the matrimonial firm
when the now lamented Donaldson was living. Whether there was any
truth or not in that report it is not for the writer to say, but
she was certainly a woman of great force of character--a living
embodiment of the Scripture maxim, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to
do, do it with all thy might." And even now, in extreme old
age--for she was more than four score--though in many ways she
manifested she had entered her second childhood, she yet retained
a great deal of her original energy. As I have illustrated, though
she possessed genuine piety, it was so mingled with superstition
as to leave it difficult to decide which exerted the controlling
influence.
If any of my readers have associated to any extent with the
people in the rural districts, especially those of American or
Dutch-American descent, they, no doubt, have observed that a great
many of the older and more illiterate ones among them are very
superstitious, being implicit believers in signs, charms,
apparitions, etc.; and most of them, also, entertain the opinion
that the moon exerts an occult influence over many things of vital
importance to the residents of this mundane sphere; and no power
that could be brought to bear could induce some of them to plant
corn, make soap, kill pigs, or perform many other important duties
in certain phases of the moon, for they would be positive if they
did it would result in dire disaster.
There are also sounds and signs which are looked upon as warnings
of coming woe; for instance: three knocks in the still hours of
the night are considered a "death call," and when heard by them
they expect soon to learn of the decease of a friend. Dreams are
the certain presages of coming events--of prosperity and
happiness, of sorrow, disease, and death.
Now, Aunt Debie and her friends were firm believers in these
things, and the former was looked upon as one who was favored with
receiving more signs, seeing more visions, and dreaming more
dreams, than any person in that section of country. She was also
viewed by her friends as an oracle, in interpreting these signs;
and she, having no doubt in regard to her own endowments, accepted
in perfect faith their eulogium of her power in this respect.
Another present at the time to which we refer was a sister of Aunt
Debie's, some ten years younger than herself, Phoebe Barrett by
name. She was attended by her husband, whom she addressed as
Enoch. He certainly was not the predominant spirit of the family;
for he was so quiet and unobtrusive as to scarcely ever utter a
word, except it might be to make a remark in regard to the weather
or answer a question. There was also a young Quakeress by the name
of Rachel Stebbins, a distant relative of the others, and they
were all related to Mr. and Mrs. Gurney.
"Did thee have any peculiar dreams lately, Aunt Debie?" asked
Rachel Stebbins. "I had a perfectly awful one the other night."
"Doo tell. What was it, Rachel?" said Aunt Debie.
"I dreamt," continued Rachel, "that I was standing by an open
grave; and it appeared to me, jest before they lowered the coffin
into it, they took the lid off from the coffin, and in it was the
corpse of a young girl, white as chalk, but she appeared as if she
must have been very pretty when she was living. There were orange
blossoms on her bosom and also in her hair. The features 'peared
familiar, but I could not, for the life of me, make out who she
was, nor can I yet, though I see her ghastly face ever before me,
and think I shall thus see it until the day I die. And what 'pears
to me as singular is, that I saw every one that is here now there,
and a great many more of our relatives and friends, and all were
weeping as if she were some one very near and dear to them. Now,
what does thee make of that dream?"
"What did thee eat before thee went to bed, Rachel?" asked Mr.
Gurney, who came into the room while she was relating her dream.
He was by nature inclined to be reserved, but yet possessed a fund
of quiet humor, and he delighted to quiz Aunt Debie and her Quaker
friends in respect to their superstitious fancies. But Aunt Debie
could not look upon this levity with any degree of allowance, in
fact, she viewed it as little else than profanity. "Did thee eat
mince pie, dough nuts, or plum cake? If thee did, thee must be
more careful in thy diet, or thee may dream something even more
terrible the next time."
Rachel Stebbins repeated to Aunt Debie what Mr. Gurney had said,
which so roused the old lady that she said to him, with
considerable asperity in the tone of her voice:
"I know thee always laughs at these things, James; but thee may be
convinced some day in a manner that thee will not like, and then
thee will be sorry that thee made so light of it."
And then addressing Rachel, she said, in answer to her question:
"Well, Rachel, when I dream of a death I always expects to hear of
a wedding. I have never known it to fail. And thee will see that
some friend of ours will be getting married soon, and then thee
will wonder how strangely contrary these kinds of dreams is. Why,
before Jonas Head was married to Prudence Leggit, I seed him laid
out in his shroud as plainly as I used to see thee; and a short
time after that I hearn that he was married. Now, thee just watch
if this dream don't end in the same way."
"But, Debie," said Phoebe, "thee was telling me the other day
about dreaming of Charles Dalton walking through the cornfield.
Will thee tell it to us now?"
This was a request that would yield a great amount of satisfaction
to Aunt Debie, for she was always delighted to be asked to relate
her dreams and the warnings she received of coming woe. Phoebe, of
course, was well aware of this, and it was partially because of it
that she asked the question; but the strongest motive power that
moved her was that she herself was a strong believer in the
supernatural. And though men will not acknowledge it, or rarely do
so, nevertheless all are more or less influenced by a certain
undefined and shadowy belief in the supernatural, even in this
grosser shape; and I believe most have a desire, though mixed with
a strange dread, to listen to its relation.
"Well," began Aunt Debie, responding to Phoebe's request, "I
dreamt I saw before me a field of waving corn. It was nearly ready
to cut, and the wind moaned through it, as it bent and shook
before it, and the tassels glinted in the moonlight like ghosts
keeping watch. And then there seemed to be something gliding
through the corn; at first it was nothing but a shadow, but after
a little it 'peared more plain, and at last I could see the
features--it was the face of Charles Dalton. And then way down at
the other end of the field I could see men, though not very plain,
but just like shadows, and they were cutting the corn. I tell thee
there is going to be some terrible trouble come to him ere long,
and before many years he will die."
Just after Phoebe had asked the question, Ruth Ashton came in and
was introduced to the company, with the exception of Aunt Debie,
Mrs. Gurney explaining that the latter was blind and deaf, and
telling Mrs. Ashton she would introduce her to the old lady when
she had finished relating and explaining her dream.
Mrs. Ashton had been invited to spend the afternoon with them, and
had accepted the invitation.
After Aunt Debie had finished relating her dream and giving her
interpretations of its meaning, Mr. Gurney moved his chair over
near her and asked: "Were you talking and thinking of Charles
Dalton, and of his unfortunate drinking habits, also of his being
nearly drowned, before you went to bed the night you dreamed that
dream?"
"Ye-s," said Aunt Debie, "I--was." She made the admission very
reluctantly; for she immediately saw the inference Mr. Gurney
wished to draw.
"And did thee not eat plum cake and cheese just before retiring?"
He knew the old lady was very partial to the edibles he mentioned,
and suspected that because she had yielded to her weakness she had
been disturbed by dreams.
"Well," he said, "thee ate the cheese and plum cake, and these
indigestibles caused thee to dream; and thee believes that to
dream of persons walking in a cornfield and plucking ears of corn
is a sign of disease and death. You were talking of Charles Dalton
and of his unfortunate drinking habits, also of his being nearly
drowned lately. Now, what is more natural than that you should
dream of him of whom you were thinking just before you went to
sleep, and that your sleeping thoughts should be influenced by
your waking ones, and by your opinions in regard to such dreams?"
"Thee can always explain things to suit thine own notion, James
Gurney. Does thee not believe that God can give warnings now the
same as He did in the days of old? Did He not give warnings to
Samuel of Eli's coming trouble? Likewise of Saul's? And to Nathan
of David's? And is there not many other places in the Bible where
it speaks of warnings given? Now let me ask, Is not God 'the same
yesterday, today, and forever,' and, if so, can He not do as well
now as He did then? _I wonder at thee, James Gurney_!"--and
the old lady raised her voice as she uttered the last sentence.
Mr. Gurney thought it better not to argue the point, so he put his
mouth to her horn and said: "Thee and I had better not argue any
further, Aunt Debie. Thee always gets the better of me anyway. But
were not Judge McGullett and Sheriff Bottlesby with Charles
Dalton, and were they not the ones who furnished him with the
liquor that intoxicated him?"
"Yes, they were," said the old lady. But we will leave the
remainder of her reply to another chapter.