Very welcome was the first view we gained of the old red farm-house upon
our return, and still more welcome was the cheerful and mild countenance
of Grandma Adams who, as soon as Uncle Nathan set out to meet the train,
had taken her place at the front door to watch for our arrival. It was
many years since she had been so long separated from her daughter, and
the six weeks which had passed seemed to her more like six years. For so
long had my aunt toiled on at the old homestead, "year in and year out"
without scarcely bestowing a thought upon the world beyond, that the
kindly spirit of sociality had nearly died out within her; but this
visit with its many scenes of enjoyment, as well as the kind attentions
of her friends, had again called into action that spirit of friendly
intercourse with others without the exercise of which the warmest heart
is prone to become cold and selfish. She seemed hardly like the same one
who left home six weeks ago, as she presided at the supper table with
such a cheerful, even lively, manner on this first evening of our
return. The Widow Green insisted that my aunt should take no part in the
household cares that evening, but advising her to sit idle when there
was work to do, was throwing words away, and she was soon busy clearing
away the supper table, and, as she said, "setting" things to rights
generally. The lamps were soon lighted, and, though it was only the
middle of September, a wood fire blazed in the fire place, and shed a
ruddy glow upon the brown ceiling and whitewashed walls of the large
clean kitchen which when there was no company, answered the purpose of
sitting room as well. Uncle Nathan said he thought they should treat
Aunt Lucinda as company for that one evening and occupy the parlor, to
which kind offer she replied by begging of him "to try and be sensible
for one evening at any rate." "Well" said Uncle Nathan, "remember when
I go off and visit about for six weeks, as you have done, I shall expect
you to have the parlor warmed and lighted on the first evening of my
return, for I am sure I could not settle down to every day life all at
once." "Well," said Aunt Lucinda, as she seated herself by the lamp, and
took up the knitting-work which was ever at hand, to fill up the "odd
spells" which she called a few minutes of leisure, "I have made up my
mind that in the future I will sometimes enjoy myself a little, and
visit my friends, instead of staying at home till I forget there is any
other place in the world but this farm, with its dingy old red house and
weather beaten barn." "I am very happy to find," replied my uncle, "that
you have finally come to the conclusion that we have but one life to
live, for by the way you have worked and drove ahead for the last
fifteen or twenty years, one would think you had half a dozen ordinary
life-times before you and if you have come to the conclusion that you
have but one, and a good share of that gone already, perhaps there will
be some peace in the house for the time to come." My aunt always
complained that her brother had one very serious fault, he was prodigal
of time, and took too little thought for the future, and on this ground
she replied in rather a snappish voice: "Well, at any rate, if every
one was as slack and careless as you, they would hardly survive for one
life time; and I can tell you one thing Nathan Adams, this old house has
got to be painted, and that right away, for it is a disgrace to be seen.
I didn't think so much about it till since I saw how other folks live.
You needn't begin, as I know you will, to talk about the expense. You
may just as well spend a little money for this as for any thing else;
and if as you say 'we have but one life to live,' we will try and spend
the remainder of it in a respectable looking house." "What color would
you prefer Lucinda," replied my uncle, "I suppose it will have to be of
the most fashionable tint. Ah me, this is what comes of women folks
going to visit, and seeing the world; I wonder," continued he, with a
roguish look at me "if Aunt Lucinda isn't expecting some gentleman from
Elmwood to visit her shortly, whom she would dislike should find her in
this rusty-looking old house. There's no telling what may grow out of
this visit yet." "There's no use in expecting you to talk sensibly,"
replied my aunt, "but the house will have to be painted, and that's all
about it." "Any thing to keep peace," replied Uncle Nathan; "and if you
are really in earnest we will see what can be done about it next week,
if this fine weather continues, for the old house does need brushing up
a little, no mistake." And this was the way matters usually ended. To
confess the truth, Uncle Nathan was inclined to be rather careless in
matters requiring extra exertion and confusion; but when my aunt once
took a decided stand, the matter was soon accomplished, for much as my
Uncle enjoyed teasing her, he entertained a high regard for her opinion,
and was often willing to trust matters to her judgment as being superior
to his own. As they were all busy in various ways, Grandma motioned me
to take a seat by her side, and read to her, saying in an undertone,
she had had no good reading while I was away, for Nathan reads too fast,
and the Widow Green speaks through her nose, "and you don't know how
much I have missed your clear voice and plain pronunciation." "What
shall I read Grandma," said I, as I turned the leaves of the large
Bible. "Oh, first read my favourite psalm which you know is the
thirty-seventh, and then read from St. John's Gospel." For an hour she
seemed filled with quiet enjoyment while I read, till, becoming tired,
she said "that will do for this time, Walter, for you must be tired
after your journey." The few days which remained of the week after our
return were busy ones; school was to open on the following Monday and
there were many matters requiring attention. The painting of the house
was begun in due time, and Uncle Nathan thought "Lucinda was going a
little too far" when she first proposed adorning the house which,
instead of a dingy red, was now a pure white, with green blinds, but she
soon (as she said) talked him over to her side, and the first time
Deacon Martin's wife passed the homestead after the improvements were
completed, she remarked to a friend, that she almost felt it her duty,
to call and ask Uncle Nathan if he were not evincing too much love of
display, by expending so much money on mere outward adornings. Somehow
or other it came to Aunt Lucinda's ears that the good Deacon's wife
thought they had better give their money to the cause of, "Foreign
Missions" than spend it in so needless a manner. My uncle's family did
give liberally when called upon, in this way, and, more than this, they
were not inclined to make remarks upon the short-comings of others; but,
upon this occasion my aunt replied with much warmth: "If the Deacon's
wife has any thing to say to me upon the subject let her come and say
it, the sooner the better, and I'll ask her if she remembers the year
I was appointed as one of the collectors for the Foreign Missionary
Society, and when I called upon her, after she had complained for some
time of hard times and the numerous calls for money, put down her name
for twenty-five cents, and did not even pay that down, and I had to go
a second time for it; if she knows what's for the best she won't give
herself any further trouble as to how we spend our money." On the whole
I presume it was all the better that the Deacon's wife never called to
censure Aunt Lucinda for extravagance in spending money.