JASPER COBBLES FOR AUNT OLIVE.--HER QUEER STORIES.
Aunt Olive Eastman had made herself a relative to every one living
between the two Pigeon Creeks. She had formed this large acquaintance
with the pioneers by attending the camp-meetings of the Methodists and
the four-days' meetings of the Baptists in southern Indiana, and the
school-house meetings everywhere. She was a widow, was full of rude
energy and benevolence, had a sharp tongue, a kindly heart, and a
measure of good sense. But she was "far from perfect," as she used to
very humbly acknowledge in the many pioneer meetings that she attended.
"I make mistakes sometimes," she used to say, "and it is because I am a
fallible creatur'."
She was an always busy woman, and the text of her life was "Work," and
her practice was in harmony with her teaching.
"Work, work, my friends and brethren," she once said in the log
school-house meeting. "Work while the day is passin'. We's all children
of the clay. To-day we're here smart as pepper-grass, and to-morrer
we're gone like the cucumbers of the ground. Up, and be doin'--up, and
be doin'!"
One morning Jasper the Tunker appeared in the clearing before her
cabin. She stood in the door as he appeared, shading her eyes with one
hand and holding a birch broom in the other. The sunset was flooding the
swollen creek in the distance, and shimmering in the tops of the ancient
trees. Jasper turned to the door.
"This is a lovely morning," said he. "The heavens are blue above us. I
hope that you are well."
"The top of the morning to you! You are a stranger that I met the other
day, I suppose. I've been hopin' you'd come along and see me. Where do
you hail from, anyway? Come in and tell me all about it."
"I am a German," said Jasper, entering. "I came from Germany to
Pennsylvania, and went from there to Ohio, and now I am here, as you
see."
"How far are you goin'? Or are you just goin' to stop with us here?
Southern Injiany is a goodly country. 'Tis all land around here, for
_millions_ of miles, and free as the air. Perhaps you'll stop with us."
"I am going to Rock Island, on the Mississippi River, across the prairie
of the Illinois."
"Who are you now, may it please you? What's your callin'? Tell me all
about it, now. I want to know."
"I am one of the Brethren, as I said. I preach and teach and cobble. I
came here now to ask you if you had any shoe-making for me to do."
"One of the Tunkers--a Tunker, one o' them. Don't belong to no sect, nor
nothin', but just preaches to everybody as though everybody was alike,
and wanders about everywhere, as if you owned the whole world, like the
air. I've seen several Tunkers in my day. They are becomin' thick in
these woods. Well, I believe such as you mean well--let's be charitable;
we haven't long to live in this troublesome world. I'm fryin' doughnuts;
am just waitin' for the fat to heat. Hope you didn't think that I was
wastin' time, standin' there at the door? I'll give you some doughnuts
as soon as the fat is hot--fresh ones and good ones, too. I make good
doughnuts, just such as Martha used to make in Jerusalem. I've fried
doughnuts for a hundred ministers in my day, and they all say that my
doughnuts are good, whatever they may think of me. Come in. I'm proper
glad to see ye."
Jasper sat down in the kitchen of the cabin. The room was large, and had
a delightful atmosphere of order and neatness. Over the fire swung an
immense iron crane, and on the crane were pot-hooks of various sizes,
and on one of these hung a kettle of bubbling fat.
The table was spread with a large dish of dough, a board called a
kneading-board, a rolling-pin, and a large sheet of dough which had been
rolled into its present form by the rolling-pin, which utensil was white
with flour.
"I knew you were comin'," said Aunt Olive. "I dropped my rollin'-pin
this mornin'; it's a sure sign. You said that you are goin' to Rock
Island. The Injuns live there, don't they? What are ye goin' there for?"
"Black Hawk has invited me. He has promised to let me have an Indian
guide, or runner, who can speak English and interpret. I'm going to
teach among the tribes, the Lord willing, and I want a guide and an
interpreter."
"Black Hawk? He was born down in Kaskaskia, the old Jesuit town, 'way
back almost a century ago, wasn't he? Or was it in the Sac village? He
was a Pottawattomie, I'm told, and then I've heard he wasn't. Now he's
chief of the Sacs and Foxes. I saw him once at a camp-meetin'. His face
is black as that pot and these hooks and trummels. How he did skeer me!
Do you dare to trust him? Like enough he'll kill ye, some day. I don't
trust no Injuns. Where did you stay last night?"
"At Mr. Lincoln's."
"Tom Linken's. Pretty poor accommodations you must have had. They're
awful poor folks. Mrs. Linken is a nice woman, but Tom he is shiftless,
and he's bringin' up that great tall boy Abe to be lazy, too. That boy
is good to his mother, but he all runs to books and larnin', just as
some turnips all run to tops. You've seen 'em so, haven't ye?"
"But the boy has got character, and character is everything in this
world."
"Did you notice anything _peculiarsome_ about him? His cousin, Dennis
Hanks, says there's something peculiarsome about him. I never did."
"My good woman, do you believe in gifts?"
"No, I believe in works. I believe in people whose two fists are full of
works. Mine are, like the Marthas of old."
Aunt Olive rolled up her sleeves, and began to cut the thin layer of
dough with a knife into long strips, which she twisted.
"I'm goin' to make some twisted doughnuts," she said, "seein' you're a
preacher and a teacher."
"I think that young lad Lincoln has some inborn gift, and that he will
become a leader among men. It is he who is willing to serve that rules,
and they who deny themselves the most receive the most from Heaven and
men. He has sympathetic wisdom. I can see it. There is something
peculiar about him. He is true."
"Oh, don't you talk that way. He's lazy, and he hain't got any
calculation, 'n' he'll never amount to shucks, nor nothin'. He's like
his father, his head in the air. Somethin' don't come of nothin' in this
world; corn don't grow unless you plant it; and when you add nothin' to
nothin' it just makes nothin'.
"Well, preacher, you've told me who you are, and now I'll tell ye who I
am. But first, let me say, I'll have a pair of shoes. I have my own
last. I'll get it for you, and then you can be peggin' away, so as not
to lose any time. It is wicked to waste time. 'Work' is my motto. That's
what time is made for."
Aunt Olive got her last. The fat was hot by this time--"all sizzlin',"
as she said.
"There, preacher, this is the last, and there is the board on which my
husband used to sew shoes, wax and all. Now I will go to fryin' my
doughnuts, and you and I can be workin' away at the same time, and I'll
tell ye who I am. Work away--work away!
"I'm a widder. You married? A widower? Well, that ain't nothin' to me.
Work away--work away!
"I came from old Hingham, near Boston. You've heard of Boston? That was
before I was married. Our family came to Ohio first, then we heard that
there was better land in Injiany, and we moved on down the Ohio River
and came here. There was only one other family in these parts at that
time. That was folks by the name of Eastman. They had a likely smart
boy by the name of Polk--Polk Eastman. He grew up and became lonesome. I
grew up and became lonesome, and so we concluded that we'd make a home
together--here it is--and try to cheer each other. Listenin', be ye?
Yes? Well, my doughnuts are fryin' splendid. Work away--work away!
"A curious time we had of it when we went to get married. There was a
minister named Penney, who preached in a log church up in Kentuck, and
we started one spring mornin', something like this, to get him to marry
us. We had but one horse for the journey. I rode on a kind of a second
saddle behind Polk, and we started off as happy as prairie plovers. A
blue sky was over the timber, and the bushes were all alive with birds,
and there were little flowers runnin' everywhere among the new grass and
the moss. It seemed as though all the world was for us, and that the
Lord was good. I've seen lots of trouble since then. My heart has grown
heavy with sorrow. It was then as light as air. Work away!
"Well, the minister Penney lived across the Kentuck, and when we came to
the river opposite his place the water was so deep that we couldn't ford
it. There had been spring freshets. It was an evenin' in April. There
was a large moon, and the weather was mild and beautiful. We could see
the pine-knots burnin' in Parson Penney's cabin, so that we knew that he
was there, but didn't see him.
"'What are we to do now?' Polk said he. 'We'll have to go home again,'
banterin'-like."
"'Holler,' said I. 'Blow the horn!' We had taken a horn along with us.
He gave a piercin' blast, and I shouted out, 'Elder Penney! Elder
Penney!'
"The door of the cabin over the river opened, and the elder came out and
stood there, mysterious-like, in the light of the fire.
"'Who be ye?' he called. 'Hallo! What is wanted?'
"'We're comin' to be married!' shouted Polk. 'Comin' to be
married--_married_! How shall we get across the river?'
"'The ford's too deep. Can't be done. Who be ye?' shouted the elder.
"'I'm Polk Eastman--Polk Eastman!' shouted Polk.
"'I'm Olive Pratt--Olive Pratt--Olive!' shouted I.
"'Well, you just stay where you be, and I'll marry you there.'
"So he began shouting at the top of his voice:
"'Do you, Olive Pratt, take that there man, over there on the horse, to
be your husband? Hey?'
"I shouted back, 'Yes, sir!'
"'Do you, Polk Eastman, take that there woman, over there on the horse,
to be your wife?'
"Polk shouted back, 'Yes, elder, that is what I came for!'
"'Then,' shouted the minister, 'join your right hands.'
"Polk put up his hand over his shoulder, and I took it; and the horse,
seein' his advantage, went to nibblin' young sprouts. The elder then
shouted:
"'I pronounce you husband and wife. You can go home now, and I'll make a
record of it, and my wife shall witness it. Good luck to you! Let us
pray.'
[Illustration: AUNT OLIVE'S WEDDING.]
"Polk hitched up the reins and the horse stood still. How solemn it
seemed! The woods were still and shady. You could hear the water rushing
in the timber. The full moon hung in the clear sky over the river, and
seemed to lay on the water like a sparkling boat. I was happy then. On
our journey home we were chased by a bear. I don't think that the bear
would have hurt us, but the scent of him frightened the horse and made
him run like a deer.
"Well, we portaged a stream at midnight, just as the moon was going
down. We made our curtilage here, and here we lived happy until husband
died of a fever. I'm a middlin' good woman. I go to all the meetin's
round, and wake 'em up. I've got a powerful tongue, and there isn't a
lazy bone in my whole body. Work away--work away! That's the way to get
along in the world. Peg away!"
While Aunt Olive had been relating this odd story, John Hanks, a cousin
of the Lincolns, had come quietly to the door, and entered and sat down
beside the Tunker. He had come to Indiana from Kentucky when Abraham was
fourteen years of age, and he made his home with the Lincolns for four
years, when he went to Illinois, and was enthused by the wonders of
prairie farming. It was Uncle John who gave to Abraham Lincoln the name
of rail-splitter. He loved the boy Lincoln, and led his heart away to
the rich prairies of Illinois a few years after the present scenes.
"He and I," he once said of Abraham, "worked barefooted, grubbed,
plowed, mowed, and cradled together. When we returned from the field, he
would snatch a piece of corn-bread, sit down on a chair, with his feet
elevated, and read. He read constantly."
This man had heard Aunt Olive--Indiana, or "Injiany," he called
her--relate her marriage experiences many times. He was not interested
in the old story, but he took a keen delight in observing the curiosity
and surprise that such a novel tale awakened in the mind of the Tunker.
"This is very extraordinary," said the Tunker, "very extraordinary. We
do not have in Germany any stories like that. I hardly know what my
people would say to such a story as that. This is a very extraordinary
country--very extraordinary."
"I can tell you a wedding story worth two o' that," said Uncle John
Hanks. "Why, that ain't nowhere to it.--Now, Aunt Injiany, you wait, and
set still. I'm goin' to tell the elder about the 'TWO TURKEY-CALLS.'"
The Tunker only said, "This is all very extraordinary." Uncle John
crossed his legs and bent forward his long whiskers, stretched out one
arm, and was about to begin, when Aunt Olive said:
"You wait, John Hanks--you wait. I'm goin' to tell the elder that there
story myself."
John Hanks never disputed with Aunt Olive.
"Well, tell it," said he, and the backwoods woman began:
"'Tis a master-place to get married out here. There's a great many more
men than women in the timber, and the men get lonesome-like, and no man
is a whole man without a wife. Men ought not to live alone anywhere.
They can not out here. Well, well, the timber is full of wild turkeys,
especially in the fall of the year, but they are hard to shoot. The best
way to get a shot at a turkey is by a turkey-call. You never heard one,
did you? You are not to blame for bein' ignorant. It is like this--"
Aunt Indiana put her hands to her mouth like a shell, and blew a low,
mysterious whistle.
"Well, there came a young settler from Kentucky and took up a claim on
Pigeon Creek; and there came a widow from Ohio and took a claim about
three miles this side of him, and neither had seen the other. Well,
well, one shiny autumn mornin' each of them took in to their heads to go
out turkey-huntin', and curiously enough each started along the creek
toward each other. The girl's name was Nancy, and the man's name was
Albert. Nancy started down the creek, and Albert up the creek, and each
had a right good rifle.
"Nancy stood still as soon as she found a hollow place in the timber,
put up her hand--_so_--and made a turkey-call--_so_--and listened.
"Albert heard the call in the hollow timber, though he was almost a mile
away, and he put up his hands--_so_--and answered--_so_.
"'A turkey,' said Nancy, said she. 'I wish I had a turkey to cook.'
"'A turkey,' said Albert, said he. 'I wish I had some one at home to
cook a turkey.'
"Then each stole along slowly toward the other, through the hollow
timber.
"It was just a lovely mornin'. Jays were callin', and nuts were fallin',
and the trees were all yellow and red, and the air put life into you,
and made you feel as though you would live forever.
"Well, they both of them stopped again, Nancy and Albert. Nancy she
called--_so_--and Albert--_so_.
"'A turkey, sure,' said Nancy.
"'A turkey, sure,' said Albert.
"Then each went forward a little, and stopped and called again.
"They were so near each other now that each began to hide behind the
thicket, so that neither might scare the turkey.
"Well, each was scootin' along with head bowed--_so_--gun in
hand--_so_--one wishin' for a husband and one for a wife, and each for a
good fat turkey, when what should each hear but a voice in a tree! It
was a very solemn voice, and it said:
"'Quit!'
"Each thought there was a scared turkey somewhere, and each became more
stealthy and cautious, and there was a long silence.
"At last Nancy she called again--_so_--and Albert he answered
her--_so_--and each thought there was a turkey within shootin' distance,
and each crept along a little nearer each other.
"At last Nancy saw the bushes stir a few rods in front of her, and
raised her gun into position, still hiding in the tangle. Albert
discovered a movement in front of him, and he took the same position.
"Nancy was sure she could see something dark before her, and that it
must be the turkey in the tangle. She put her finger on the lock of the
gun, when a voice in the air said:
"'Quit!'
"'It's a turkey in the tops of the timber,' thought she, 'and he is
watchin' me, and warnin' the other turkey.'
"Albert, too, was preparin' to shoot in the tangle when the command
from the tree-top came. Each thought it would be well to reconnoiter a
little, so as to get a better shot.
"Nancy kneeled down on the moss among the red-berry bushes, and peeked
cautiously through an openin' in the tangle. What was that?
"A hat? Yes, it was a hat!
"Albert he peeked through another openin', and his heart sunk like a
stone within him. What was that? A bonnet? Yes, it was a bonnet!
"Was ever such a thing as that seen before in the timber? Bears had been
seen, and catamounts, and prairie wolves, but a bonnet! He drew back his
gun. Just then there came another command from the tree-top:
"'Quit!'
"Now, would you believe it? Well, two guns were discharged at that
turkey in the tree, and it came tumblin' down, a twenty-pounder, dead as
a stone.
"Nancy run toward it. Albert run towards it.
"'It's yourn,' said Nancy.
"'It's yourn,' said Albert.
"Each looked at the other.
"Nancy looked real pink and pretty, and Albert he looked real noble and
handsome-like.
"'I'm thinkin',' said Albert, 'it kind o' belongs to both of us.'
"'So I think, too,' said Nancy, said she. 'Come over to my cabin and
I'll cook it for ye. I'm an honest girl, I am.'
"The two went along as chipper as two squirrels. The creek looked really
pretty to 'em, and the prairie was all a-glitter with frost, and the
sky was all pleasant-like, and you know the rest. There, now. They're
livin' there yet. Just like poetry--wasn't it, now?"
"Very extraordinary," said the Tunker, "very! I never read a novel like
that. Very extraordinary!"
A tall, lank, wiry boy came up to the door.
"Abe, I do declare!" said Aunt Olive. "Come in. I'm makin' doughnuts,
and you sha'n't have one of them. I make Scriptur' doughnuts, and the
Scriptur' says if a man spends his time porin' over books, of which
there is no end, neither shall he eat, or somethin' like that--now don't
it, elder?--But seein' it's you, Abe, and you are a pretty good boy,
after all, when people are in trouble, and sick and such, I'll make you
an elephant. There ain't any elephants in Injiany."
Aunt Olive cut a piece of doughnut dough in the shape of a picture-book
elephant and tossed it into the fat. It swelled up to enormous
proportions, and when she scooped it out with a ladle it was, for a
doughnut, an elephant indeed.
"Now, Abe, there's your elephant.--And, elder, here's a whole pan full
of twisted doughnuts. You said that you were goin' to meet Black Hawk.
Where does he live? Tell us all about him."
"I will do so, my good woman," said Jasper. "I want you to be interested
in my Indian missions. When I come this way again, I shall be likely to
bring with me an Indian guide, an uncommon boy, I am told. You shall
hear my story."