"Don't you wish the weeds would last all summer? for what is to become
of you when they are gone?"
Still I made no reply, and Jane persisted in her jokes and laughter. But
I think one can always tell when one is blushing. So I held down my head
and concealed my face in my sun-bonnet, as I felt the blood rushing up
into my cheeks, and was determined that she should not have the
satisfaction of discovering it.
These garden-tools were the most beautiful I had ever seen, and there
was evidently a hoe and a rake for each of us. They were made of
polished steel, with slender handles, all rubbed so smooth as to make it
a pleasure to take hold of them. The blades had been sharpened beyond
anything that Fred had been able to achieve. Being semicircular in
shape, they had points at the corners, adapted to reaching into
out-of-the-way places,--as after a weed that had grown up in the middle
of a strawberry-row, thinking, perhaps, that a shelter of that kind
would preserve it from destruction. Then they were so light that even a
child could ply them all day without their weight occasioning the least
fatigue. The rakes were equally complete, with long and sharp teeth,
which entered the ground with far greater facility than the old-time
implements we had been using. Indeed, they were the very tools we had
been promising ourselves out of the profits of our second year. My
mother was especially pleased with them, as she was not of very robust
constitution, and found the old heavy tools a great drag upon her
strength. I think no small present I have ever received was so
acceptable as this.
Whoever first manufactured and introduced these beautiful and
appropriate garden-tools for ladies has probably done as much to make
garden-work attractive to the sex as half the writers on fruits and
flowers. It is vain to expect them to engage in horticulture, unless the
most complete facilities are provided for them. Their physical strength
is not equal to several hours' labor with implements made exclusively
for the hands of strong men; and when garden-work, instead of proving a
pleasant recreation, degenerates into drudgery, one is apt to become
disgusted with it, and will thus give up an occupation truly feminine,
invariably healthful, and in many cases highly profitable.
True to his promise of the preceding day, Mr. Logan came down next
morning to help us through with our job of hoeing, but rather better
prepared to operate under a broiling June sun. My mother, seeing his
determination to assist us, invited him to take off his coat, and
brought out Fred's straw hat for him to wear. He seemed truly grateful
for these marks of consideration for his comfort, and in consequence
there sprung up quite a cordiality between them. There was of course a
profusion of thanks given to him for the handsome and appropriate
present he had made, but he seemed to consider it a very small affair.
Still, I think he appeared as much gratified at finding he had thus
anticipated our wishes as we were ourselves. It is singular how far a
little act of kindness, especially when its value is enhanced by its
appropriateness and the delicacy with which it is performed, will go
toward establishing a bond of sympathy between giver and receiver.
I may here say, that, the better we became acquainted with Mr. Logan,
the more evident it was that his heart was made up of kindness. He
seemed to consider himself as almost nothing, and his neighbor as
everything. His spirit was of that character that wins its way through
life, tincturing every action with good-will for others, and seeking to
promote the happiness of all around him in preference to his own. He
once remarked, that we must not look for happiness in the things of the
world, but within ourselves, in our hearts, our tempers, and our
dispositions. On another occasion he quoted to me something he had just
been reading in an old author, who said that men's lives should be like
the day, most beautiful at eventide,--or like the autumn rich with
golden sheaves, where good works have ripened into an abundant harvest.
Of course, at that time, we knew nothing of who or what he was, beyond
an assurance incidentally given by our pastor, that he was the worthiest
young man of his acquaintance, and that he hoped we would entertain him
in the best way we could, as his passion for the pursuits he discovered
me to be engaged in, coupled with what he had learned of the great
object I had in view, had so much interested him in my behalf that he
thought it likely Mr. Logan would often come down to watch my progress,
and very possibly in some way assist me. This recommendation was quite
sufficient to make him a welcome visitor at our little homestead. But
even without that, we all felt he would have no difficulty in winning
his way wherever he might think it desirable to make a favorable
impression. Though he was evidently highly educated, and had been
brought up in a superior circle to ours, and, for aught we knew, might
be very wealthy, yet his whole manner was so free from pretension to
superiority of any kind, that we never felt the least constraint in his
company.
Well, as I was saying, Mr. Logan came down to assist me in my weeding.
Jane had gone to the factory, telling me that I should have help enough
to do her share of the hoeing. I was really not sorry for her absence,
as she seemed to have taken up some very strange notions, which led her
into remarks that annoyed me. Besides, she was sometimes so impetuous in
giving utterance to these notions, that I was afraid she might
thoughtlessly break out where he would overhear. I might have had other
reasons, not worth while to allude to, for not regretting her absence;
but this dangerous propensity was quite sufficient. Hence that was a
most agreeable morning. It is true that my mother was a good deal
absent, having something extra to do within doors, thus leaving Mr.
Logan and myself sole tenants of the garden for probably an hour at a
time. But it did not occur to me that her presence would have made the
time pass away any more quickly, or that any remarks from her would have
made our interchange of ideas more interesting. There was abundance of
conversation between us, as he seemed at no fault for either words or
topics. Then there were long pauses in the work, when we would rest upon
the handles of our hoes, and discuss some point that one of us had
started. On these occasions I was struck with the extreme politeness and
deference of his manner toward me. The very tones of his voice were
different from any I had ever heard. How different, indeed, from those
of the coarse and mercenary creatures it had been my fortune to
encounter elsewhere! It was impossible to overlook the contrast. What
wonder, then, that the softness with which they were modulated, when
conversing with me, should fall with grateful impressiveness on my
heart?
But this pleasant acquaintance occasioned no interruption of my labors
in harvesting my strawberry-crop. It was picked regularly every
afternoon, and I went with Fred every morning by daylight to see it
safely delivered to the widow. The sale kept up as briskly as ever,
though the price gradually declined as the season advanced,--not, as the
widow informed me, because the people had become tired of strawberries,
but because the crops from distant fields were now crowding into market.
Then, too, she said, as other delicacies came forward, buyers were
disposed to change a little for something different.
It was a striking feature of the business, that, however abundant the
strawberries might be, selected fruit always commanded a higher price
than that which went to market in a jumble just as it came from the
vines. This is a matter which it is important for all cultivators to
keep in remembrance, as attention to it is a source of considerable
profit. We all know that the large berries are no better or sweeter than
the smaller ones; but then we are the growers, not the consumers, and
the public have set their hearts on having the largest that can be
produced. In fruits, as in other things, it seems that "the world is
still deceived by ornament." Moreover, people are willing to pay liberal
prices for it, and thus the producer is sure of being rewarded for a
choice article. I never discovered that a pumpkin or a turnip possessed
any superior flavor because it had been stimulated to mammoth size. But
such being the public craving for vegetable monsters, the shrewd
cultivator is constantly on the alert to minister to it, knowing that it
pays.
Fred kept his usual tally of the number of baskets we took to market,
and how much money each lot produced. His ridiculous miscalculation, the
previous year, of what our profits would be, had so moderated his
enthusiasm, that during all this season his anticipations were confined
within very modest bounds. But as his column of figures lengthened, and
he ciphered out for us the average price for each day's sales, it was
remarkable how much higher it stood than that of most of the fruit I saw
in the market. It was evident that our care in assorting our berries was
giving a good account of itself. Besides, I saw that the widow had the
jumbled-up berries of others on her stand, and heard her complain that
they remained on hand some hours after all mine had been sold. Then, was
it not the superiority of mine that had drawn forth such strong
commendation from my first customer, Mr. Logan? and had he not continued
to admire all that I did in the strawberry way? Setting aside the high
prices, I sometimes thought that this alone was worth all the pains we
had taken.
The season lasted about three weeks, during all which time our pastor
was a frequent visitor at our garden. As both he and Mr. Logan had been
made acquainted with my general object and plans, so from generals they
were at last taken into confidence as to particulars. I showed them
Fred's tally, and it appeared to me they entered into the study of it
with almost as much interest as we did ourselves. Though in many
respects a very small affair, yet it involved great results for me, and
our visitors both thought it might be turned to the advantage of others
also.
"I am astonished," said Mr. Seeley, one day, after examining Fred's
tally, and expressing himself in terms of admiration at the success of
our enterprise,--"I am astonished at the wasteful lives which so many of
our women are living. They seem utterly destitute of purpose. They make
no effort to give them shape or plan, or to set up a goal in the
distance, to be reached by some kind of industrious application. They
drift along listlessly and mechanically, in the old well-worn tracks,
trusting to accident to give them a new direction. It is a sad thing,
this waste of human existence!"
"But consider, Sir," I replied, "how limited are our opportunities, how
circumscribed the circle in which we are compelled to move, and with how
much jealousy the world stands guard upon its boundaries, as if it were
determined we should not overstep them. When women succeed, is it not
solely by accident, or, if there be such a thing, by luck?"
"Accident, Miss," replied Mr. Logan, "undoubtedly has something to do
with it. But observation, energy, and tact are much more important
elements of success. More than sixty years ago a young New-England girl
fell desperately in love with an imported straw bonnet which she
accidentally met with in a shop. The price was too large for her slender
purse, so she determined to make one for herself. With no guide but
recollection of the charming novelty she had seen, no other pattern to
work by, no opportunity of unbraiding it to see how it was made, no
instruction whatever, she persevered until she had produced a bonnet
that filled the hearts of her female friends with envy, as well as with
ambition to copy it. This was the origin of the once famous Dunstable
bonnet. From this accidental beginning there sprung up a manufacture
which now employs ten thousand persons, most of whom are women, and the
product of which, in Massachusetts alone, amounts to six millions of
hats and bonnets annually. This girl thus became a public benefactor.
She opened a new and profitable employment to women, and at the same
time enriched herself."
"Yes," added Mr. Seeley, "and there are many other employments for
female skill and labor that may yet be opened up. This that you are
toiling in, Lizzie, may turn out something useful. I presume that even
bonnets cannot be more popular than strawberries."
"I should think so," interrupted Fred, "It is the women only who wear
the one, but it looks to me as if the whole world wanted the other."
Well, when our little crop had all been sold, I found that it amounted
to nearly twelve hundred quarts, and that it produced three hundred and
eighty dollars clear of expenses. This was quite as much as we expected;
besides, it was enough to enable me to quit the factory altogether, and
stay at home with my mother. And there was a fair prospect of this
release being a permanent one, as it was very certain I now understood
the whole art and mystery of cultivating strawberries. There was another
encouraging incident connected with this season's operations. It
appeared that our pastor had mentioned me and my labors to a number of
his friends, among whom was one who wanted to set out a large field with
plants, all of which he purchased of me, amounting to sixty dollars.
This was a most unexpected addition to our income.
But my sister Jane did not seem at all anxious to give up the factory. I
had, a good while before, let in an idea that there was some other
attraction about the establishment besides the sewing-machine. I
noticed, that, now we had so considerably increased our means, she was
more dressy than ever, and spent a great deal more time at her toilet
before leaving for the factory, as if there were some one there to whom
she wanted to appear more captivating than usual. Poor girl! I know it
was very natural for her to do so. Indeed, I must confess to some little
weakness of the same description myself. We had drawn to us quite a new
set of visitors, and it was natural that I should endeavor to make our
house as attractive to them as possible. As all our previous earnings
had gone into a common purse, from which my mother made distribution
among us, so the new accession from the garden went into the same
repository. Jane was much more set up with this flourishing condition of
our finances than myself. In addition to beautiful new bonnets and very
gay shawls which we bought, she began to tease my mother for a silk
dress, an article which had never been seen in our house. But as the
latter prudently insisted on treating us with equal indulgence, and as I
thought my time for such finery had not come, I was unwilling to go to
that expense, so Jane was obliged to do without it. But I was now to
have a sewing-machine.
Time passed more pleasantly than I had ever known. It was a great
happiness to be able to devote an hour or two to reading every day, and
leisure prompted me to some little enterprises for the improvement of
the surroundings of the old homestead. It seemed to me the easiest thing
in the world to invest even the rudest exterior with true elegance, and
I found that the indulgence of a little taste in this way could be had
for a very small outlay. A silk dress, in my opinion, was not to be
compared with such an object.
I scarcely know how it happened, but, instead of the end of the
strawberry-season being the termination of Mr. Logan's visits, they
continued full as frequent as when there was really pressing work for
him to assist in. It could not have been because his curiosity to see
how my crop would turn out was still ungratified, as he knew all about
it, how much we had sold, and what money it produced. But he seemed to
have quite fallen in love with the garden; and, indeed, he one day
observed, that "there would ever be something in that garden to interest
him." Then in my little improvements about the house, in fixing up some
of our old trellises, in planting new vines and flowers, and in
transplanting trees and shrubs, he insisted on helping me nearly half
the week. He really performed far more work of this kind than Fred had
ever done, and appeared to be perfectly familiar with such matters.
Moreover, he approved so generally of my plans that I at last felt it
would be difficult to do without him. But I could not help considering
it strange that he should so frequently give up the higher society to
which he was accustomed in the city, and spend so much of his time at
our humble cottage.
Thus the season went on until August came in, when the strawberry-ground
was becoming thickly covered with runners, especially from the newly
planted half-acre. I had intended bestowing no particular care on these,
except to keep down the weeds so that the runners could take root. But
when Mr. Logan learned this, he said it would never do. Besides, he
said, the ground looked to him as if it were not rich enough. So, if he
could have his own way, he would show me how the thing should be
managed. Well, as by this time he really appeared to have as much to say
about the garden as any of us, what could I do but consent? First,
then, with my assistance, he turned back the runners into the rows, and
then had the spaces between covered with a thick coat of fine old
compost, which he probably bought somewhere in the neighborhood,--but
how much it cost we could never get him to say. Then he brought in a man
with a plough, who broke up the ground, turning the manure thoroughly
in, and then harrowing it until the surface was as finely pulverized as
if done with a rake. Then we spread out the runners again, and he showed
me how to fasten them by letting them down into the soft earth with the
point of my hoe. I told him I never should have thought of taking so
much trouble; but he said there was no other way by which the runners
could be converted into robust plants, certain to produce a heavy crop
the next season. They must have a freshly loosened soil to run over, and
in which to form strong roots; and as to enriching the ground, it was
absolutely indispensable. To be sure, I could produce fruit without it,
but it would be of very inferior quality.
One may well suppose that this intimate association, this almost daily
companionship, this grateful interchange of thoughts and feelings that
seemed to flow in one harmonious current from a common fountain, should
have exerted a powerful influence over me. Such intercourse with one so
singularly gifted with the faculty of winning favor from all who knew
him gave birth to emotions within me such as I had never experienced. Am
I to blame for being thus affected, or in confessing that every long
October evening was doubly pleasant when it brought him down to see us?
Indeed, I had insensibly begun to expect him. There was an indescribable
something in his manner, especially when we happened to be alone, that I
thought it impossible to misunderstand. Once, when strolling round the
garden, I directed his attention to a group of charming autumn flowers.
But, instead of noticing them, he looked at me, and replied,--
"Ah, Miss Lizzie, I long since discovered that this garden contains a
sweeter flower than any of these!"
I turned away from him, abashed and silent, for I was confused and
frightened by the idea that he was alluding to me, and it was a long
time before I could venture to raise my eyes to his. I thought of what
he had said, and of the studied tenderness of voice with which he had
spoken, all through our lengthened walk, and until I rested upon my
pillow; and the strange sensations it awakened came over my spirit in
repeated dreams.
Thus forewarned, as I thought, I was not slow in afterwards detecting
fresh manifestations of a tenderer interest for me than I had supposed
it possible for him to entertain.
One evening in November, when the moon was shining with her softest
lustre through the deep haze peculiar to our Indian summer, he came as
usual to our little homestead. Somehow, I can scarcely tell why, I had
been expecting him. He had dropped something the previous evening which
had awakened in my mind the deepest feeling, and I was half sure that he
would come. I felt that there were quicker pulses dancing through my
veins, a flutter in my heart such as no previous experience had brought,
a doubt, a fear, an expectation, as well as an alarm, which no
reflection could analyze, no language could describe, all contending
within me for ascendancy. Who that has human sympathies, who that is
young as I was, diffident of herself, and comparatively alone and
friendless, will wonder that I should be thus overcome, or reproach me
for giving way to impulses which I felt it impossible to control? There
was a terror of the future, which even recollection of the happy past
was powerless to dissipate. Society, even books, became irksome, and I
went out into the garden alone, there to have uninterrupted communion
with myself.
There was an old arbor in a by-place of the garden, covered with creeper
and honeysuckle, and though rudely built, yet there was a quiet
retirement about it that I felt would be grateful to my spirit. Its
rustic fittings, its heavy old seats, its gravelled floor, had been the
scene of a thousand childish gambols with my brother and sister. Old
memories clung to it with a loving fondness. Even when the sports of
childhood gave place to graver thoughts and occupations, the cool
retirement of this rustic solitude had never failed to possess the
strongest attractions for me. The songbirds built their little nests
within the overhanging foliage, and swarms of bees gave melodious voices
to the summer air as they hovered over its honey-yielding flowers. The
past united with the present to direct my steps toward this favorite
spot I entered, and, seating myself on one of the old low branches that
encircled it, was looking up through the straggling vines that festooned
the entrance, admiring the soft haze through, which the cloudless moon
was shedding a peculiar brilliancy on all around, when I heard a step
approaching from the house.
I stopped the song which I had been humming, and listened. It is said
that there are steps which have music in them. I am sure, the cadences
of that music which the poet has so immortalized sounded distinctly in
my listening ear. It was the melody of recognition. I knew instinctively
the approaching step, and in a moment Mr. Logan stood before me.
"What!" said he, extending his hand as I rose, and pressing mine with a
warmth that was unusual, even retaining it until we were seated,--"ever
happy! There must be a perpetual sunshine in your heart!"
"Oh, no!" I replied. "Happiness is a creation of the fireside. One does
not find it in his neighbor's garden, and many times not even in his
own."
"For once, dear Lizzie, I only half agree with you," he replied, again
taking my hand, and pressing it in both of his.
I sought in vain to withdraw it, but he held it with an embarrassing
tenacity. He had never spoken such words before, never used my name
even, without the usual prefix which politeness exacts. I was glad that
the moonlight found but feeble entrance into the arbor, as the blood
mounted from my heart into my face, and I felt that I must be a
spectacle of confusion. I cannot now remember how long this
indescribable embarrassment kept possession of me, but I did summon
strength to say,--
"Your language surprises me, Mr. Logan."
"But, dear Lizzie," he rejoined, "my deportment toward you ought to
lessen that surprise, and become the apology for my words. Others may
find no happiness in their neighbor's garden, but I have discovered that
mine is concentrated in yours. You, dear Lizzie, are its fairest,
choicest flower, which I seek to transplant into my own, there to
flourish in the warmth of an affection such as I have felt for no one
but yourself. Never has woman been so loved as you. Let me add fresh
blessings to the day on which I first met you here, by claiming you as
my wife."
Oh, how can I write all this? But memory covers every incident of the
past with flowers. What I said in reply to that overwhelming declaration
has all gone from me. I may have been silent,--I think I must have
been,--under the crowd of conflicting sensations,--amazement, modesty, a
happiness unspeakable,--which came thronging over my heart I cannot
remember all, but I covered my face, and the tears came into my eyes.
Still keeping my hand, he placed his arm around me, drew me yet closer
to him,--my head fell upon his breast,--I think he must have kissed me.
If other evenings fled on hasty wings, how rapid was the flight of what
remained of this! I cannot repeat the thoughts we uttered to each other,
the confidences we exchanged, the glimpses of the happy future that
broke upon me. Joy seemed to fill my cup even to overflowing; happiness
danced before my bewildered mind; the longing of my womanly nature was
satisfied with the knowledge that my affection was returned. Out of all
the world in which he had to choose, he had preferred _me_.
That night was made restless by the very fulness of my happiness. At
breakfast the next morning, Jane questioned me on my somewhat haggard
looks, and was inquisitive to know if anything had happened. Somehow she
was unusually pertinacious; but I parried her inquiries. I was unwilling
that others, as yet, should become sharers of my joy. But when she left
upon her usual duties, I put on my best attire, with all the little
novelties in dress which we had recently been able to purchase, making
my appearance as genteel as possible. For the first time in my life I
did think that silk would be becoming, and was vexed with myself for
being without it. I was now anxious to be found agreeable. But it really
made no difference.
Presently a knock was heard at the front door; and on my mother's
opening it, Mr. Logan entered, with a young lady whom he introduced as
his sister. The room was so indifferently lighted that I could not at
first distinguish her features, but, on her throwing up her veil, I
instantly recognized in her my fellow-pupil at the sewing-school,--my
"guide, philosopher, and friend," Miss Effie Logan!
"Two years, dear Lizzie, since we met!" she exclaimed, "and what a
meeting now! You see I know it all. Henry has told me everything. I am
half as happy as yourself!"
She took me in her arms, embraced me, kissed me with passionate
tenderness, and called me "sister." What a recognition it was for me!
Her beautiful face, lighted up with a new animation, appeared more
lovely than ever. There was the same open-hearted manner of other days,
now made doubly engaging by the warmest manifestation of genuine
affection. I had never dreamed that Mr. Logan was the brother of whom
this loving girl had so often spoken to me at the sewing-school, nor
that the inexpressible happiness of calling her my sister was in store
for me. But now I could readily discover resemblances which it was no
wonder I had heretofore overlooked. If he, in sweetness of disposition,
were to prove the counterpart of herself, what more could woman ask? It
was not possible for a recognition to be more joyful than this.
My mother stood by, witnessing these incomprehensible proceedings,
silent, yet anxious as to their meaning. Effie took her into the
adjoining room,--she was far readier of speech than myself,--and there
explained to her the mystery of my new position with Mr. Logan. She told
me that my mother was overcome with surprise, for, dearly as she loved
her children, she had been strangely dull in her apprehension of what
had been so long enacting within her own domestic circle. But why should
I amplify these homely details? They are daily incidents the world over,
varied, it is true, by circumstances; for everywhere the human heart is
substantially the same mysterious fountain of emotion.
A secret of this sort, once known, even to one's mother only, travels
with miraculous rapidity, until the whole gaping neighborhood becomes
confidentially intrusted with its keeping. It seems that ours had been
more observant and suspicious than even my dear mother. But such eager
care-takers of other people's affairs exist wherever human beings may
chance to congregate. Humble life secured us no exemption.
Our pastor was one of the first to hear of the interesting event. It may
be that Mr. Logan had given him some inkling of it beforehand, for he
was early in his congratulations. Jane, as might be expected, declared
that it was no surprise to her, and was sure that my mother would not
think of having the wedding without indulging her in her long-coveted
silk. Fred took to Mr. Logan with almost as much kindliness as even
myself. Throughout the neighborhood the affair created an immense
sensation, as it was currently believed that Mr. Logan was exceedingly
rich, and that now I was likely to become a lady. While poor, I was only
a strawberry-girl; but rich, I would be a lady! Who is to account for
these false estimates of human life? Who is mighty enough to correct
them?
Nothing had ever so melted down the rude stiffness of the Tetchy family
as this wonderful revolution in my domestic prospects. They became
amusingly disposed to sociability, as well as to inquisitiveness. But I
was glad to see my mother stiffen up in proportion to their sudden
condescension, for she would have nothing to do with them.
Who, among casuists, can account for the contagious sympathy that seems
to govern the affections? I had often heard it said that one wedding
generally leads the way to another. Not a fortnight after these
important events, Jane gave a new surprise to the household by
introducing to us a lover of her own. It appeared that everything had
been arranged between them before we knew a word about it. The happy
young man in this case was a junior partner in the factory; and this, as
I had long suspected, was the great secret of her attraction there. How
my mother could have been so blind to the signs of coming events, such
as were developing around her, I could not understand. But both affairs
were real surprises to her. If we had depended on her genius as a
matchmaker, I fear that both Jane and myself would have had a very
discouraging experience!
Thus the services of our pastor were likely to be in great request, for
Jane insisted that he should officiate at her wedding, and Mr. Logan
would think of no other for his own; and for myself, I thought it best,
as this was the first time, not to let it be said that I had volunteered
to make a difficulty by being contrary on such a point! Effie offered to
be my bridesmaid, and Mr. Logan declared that Fred should be his first
groomsman. It was a hazardous venture, Fred being as much a novice at
such performances as myself,--who had never officiated even as bride!
With a little tutoring, however, he turned out a surprising success.
Lucy, no longer a little barefoot fruit-peddler, was promoted to be my
waiting-maid.
The new year came, bringing with it silks and jewels, and the double
wedding. If I write that I am married, I must add that I am still
without a sewing-machine. To me the garden has been better than the
needle.
There is a moral to be drawn from all that I have written, wherein it
may be seen that the field of my choice is wide enough for many others.
If I retire from market as a strawberry-girl, it must not be inferred
that it is because the business has been overdone.