Well, after breakfast Tamer and I wuz in the settin’ room both on
us sewin’, for I had took a fine shirt of Josiah’s to finish, and
she wuz embroiderin’ some lace ruffles to trim a skirt for Anna.
“Tamer, I should think such work would be hard on your basiler
disease, whatever it is. Hain’t it dretful hard to embroider that
fine lace?”
“Yes, Josiah Allen’s wife, it is hard, but you know I don’t mind
any labor or any care if I can advance my children’s happiness, you
know jest how I watch over their interests and am willing to spend
and be spent in their service.”
And she bent closter still over the fine complicated stitches of
that wearisome lookin’ embroidery, and I thought and couldn’t help
it, if you would spend half or a quarter of the time you spend in
ornamentin’ the bodies of your children, in lookin’ out for their
souls and hearts, and studyin’ their welfare, you would come out
better in the end.
And at this very minute little Jack come in lookin’ bright as the
mornin’, which wuz very fair. He wuz dressed up slick and clean in
a little blue suit, with a deep collar braided painfully by Tamer
Ann in fine black braid, and all up and down the side of his little
legs that fine embroidery run. And Tamer begun to charge him the
minute he got into the room to not run round out doors for fear he
would soil that beautiful new suit. “You know,” sez she, “your Ma
done that for you when she couldn’t hardly lift her head from the
pillow. It almost killed your Ma, that work did.”
I see at this Jack’s little face grew overcast with a couple of
shadders. One wuz cast from the martyr’s cloudy brow, no doubt the
thought of killin’ his Ma wuz more or less painful to him, and the
other and deeper shadder wuz that he couldn’t run round free as
the young colts that wuz prancin’ about the medder by the side of
the house. His poor little legs wuz jest achin’ to jump and bound
and curvit round, and there they wuz doomed to imprisonment in a
braided fortress. Oh, my! I wuz sorry for Jack, sorry as I could
be. Well, Tamer and I sot there and had quite an agreeable visit,
Tamer has her properties, though she is sot and overbearin’, I mean
when she is herself, more’n half the time I do believe she imagines
herself a Female Amazonian or a African Princess or sunthin’.
We talked about the different relations on both sides, and quite a
good deal about my grandchildren; she talked middlin’ agreeable,
but what I can’t understand in her is her total lack of good
judgment. Why, she said that there had been other little girls that
looked jest as well as Tirzah Ann’s youngest, little Anna Thyrza,
and she said she didn’t like the name, and if Tirzah had called her
after herself she ort to called her Tirzah Ann. Sez I, “We call her
Delight, she don’t hardly know she has got any other name, and,”
sez I, “our daughter can’t bear the name of Tirzah Ann, she thinks
it is so old fashioned and humbly, and so I don’t know that she
is so much to blame for naming her in this roundabout way after
herself. Whitfield would have the baby named after her Ma,” sez I.
Sez Tamer, “I shall always call the child Tirzah.” And agin I told
her this it wuzn’t the child’s name, and agin Tamer sez firmly,
“Tirzah is a good name, and I shall call her Tirzah.” And so she
did call her through the hull of our conversation in spite of all
my explanations.
Well, bein’ a visitor, I thought I wouldn’t contend with her, but I
wuz some mad on the inside about it. But jest while we wuz talkin’
Tamer looked out towards the road and said, “If there don’t come
Aunt Nabby Barnes! oh, dear me! the sight of her fairly makes me
sick, and she will stay all day most likely. Well, we have got to
make the best of it, I spoze, she has got lots of money and no
heirs, and she thinks a good deal of Jack. Now, Jack,” sez she, to
the little boy who wuz lookin’ on with open eyes and ears, “you
must be good to her and pay attention to her all day.” And then
agin she resoomed her complaints. “Why couldn’t she have stayed
away to-day and let us alone? I hope she won’t stay long.” By that
time Aunt Nabby had knocked at the door, and Tamer met her with
enthosiasm and several kisses, and sez:
“Oh, my dear Aunt Nabby! how glad we all are to see you! Why
haven’t you been here before? It seems an age since we have seen
you; you have come now to stay a good, long while with us, haven’t
you? Jack come right here and kiss dear Aunt Nabby.”
“I won’t,” sez Jack. “I don’t want her here.”
“Do you come this minute, Jack, and kiss dear Aunt Nabby. Jack
talks about you so much, Aunt Nabby; he thinks everything of you.”
“I don’t,” sez Jack; “I don’t think anything of her at all.”
“Jack, do you come here this minute and kiss Aunt Nabby, or I will
punish you severely.”
Jack dragged himself towards her as if a heavy weight hung to his
feet, and put his cheek up against hers. He didn’t kiss her, I
don’t believe, but his mother thought he did, and so she let him
off.
Well, that afternoon Jack told a fib, and his mother ketched him
at it. It wuz what they call a white lie, as for me I have always
made a practice of thinkin’ that lies are never white, that they
are never any color but black. But this one of Jack’s wuzn’t very
black, anyway, it wuz a sort of a small light colored one (if they
are ever light colored). But you ort to seen the fuss Tamer Ann
made over it, and it wuz jest what ort to be done, he ortn’t to be
allowed to fib. But who learnt him to lie? Who sot him the pattern?
Them wuz the two questions that wuz hantin’ me as I hearn Tamer Ann
whippin’ him and heard Jack cryin’ over it.
Tamer come downstairs completely exhausted, and sez she, “Oh, what
a time I have had! What a job it is to bring up children right! My
arms ache as if they would come off, but I will bring my children
up right if my arms do come off in the job. Lyin’ is sunthin’ I
won’t have in this house.”
And Tamer meant what she said, I hain’t no idee but what she did,
she thought she abominated lyin’ and never mistrusted she had been
lyin’ all the mornin’ herself, about three and a half hours of
clear, stiddy lie, black as a coal. She didn’t mistrust it, but
in the cause of duty I reminded her of it, for I loved Jack and
couldn’t bear to see him spilte, and I sez, “Children are quick to
foller patterns.”
And she sez, tostin’ her head, “Nobody ever ketched me in a lie, or
Hamen, either.”
Sez I, “Jack heard you groanin’ and dreadin’ Aunt Nabby, and hatin’
to see her, to her back, and then kissin’ and tellin’ her how glad
you wuz to see her to her face; what is that, Tamer Ann Allen, what
is that?”
She tosted her head agin and sez, “Oh, you have got to do such
little things to git along peaceable.” Sez I, “Well, I spoze Jack
thought he had got to tell his little lie in order to git along
smooth.”
Sez Tamer Ann, “This is entirely different; we older ones have the
duties of society restin’ on us----”
“The older ones,” sez I, interruptin’ her, “ort to behave
themselves and not set patterns of falsehood before the children.”
“Society, as it is now organized,” sez Tamer Ann, “cannot exist and
run smoothly without a little, not exactly falsehood or deceit, I
wouldn’t use exactly those words----”
“I would,” sez I firmly, “I would, that is jest what they be, jest
what you used this mornin’ and whipped Jack for this afternoon.”
“Society would break in pieces if it were not for the oil of these
qualities, which I cannot exactly name----”
“I can,” sez I firmly; “I can name ’em.”
“If it were not for this to soften the friction of the machinery,
society would break in pieces.”
“Then let it break into pieces,” sez I, “into a hundred pieces. But
surely,” I sez, “there is such a thing as truth and frankness and
simplicity and honor in the world, surely there are them that live
their lives in a simple, honest way, not hidin’ or coverin’ up,
nor pretendin’ to be what they are not, but jest go on from day to
day and from year to year doin’ their best, not pretendin’ their
best is any better than it is, and not pretendin’ that it is any
worse (which is jest as wrong, though we don’t look at it in that
light). Not awed by them above ’em in worldly wealth and station,
thinkin’ how little one really can own in this life, not lookin’
down on them beneath ’em in worldly knowledge or wealth, thinkin’
how different God looks on different gifts from what we do, and
thinkin’ mebby he counts wealth of heart more worthy than wealth
of intellect. For that very reason havin’ no contempt for common
people or common things, knowing’ well that what we call common
He might call oncommon. The beggar mebby with his heart full of
prophecy and hope beatin’ under his squalid rags, and the king like
as not carryin’ his poor starved heart to a banquet with his royal
robes trailin’ about him. We can’t see through these rags and robes
always, and see what poverty or wealth they cover. So it is best to
carry our heads and minds jest as straight and stiddy as we can,
and doin’ our own duty we will have less time to either look up or
down on our poor fellow mortals travelin’ along the road with us,
we won’t have the time to pretend to like them when we don’t, to be
overjoyed to see ’em when we hain’t, but will try to tell the truth
with fear and tremblin’.”
Sez Tamer Ann, “Would you tell everybody right out blunt what you
think of ’em?”
“No,” sez I firmly, “no, indeed! that would make the world too
curious a place, that would make circuses and shows and curosities
too common and frequent in our streets. Oh, no,” sez I, lookin’
pensively at Tamer Ann, who had begun to embroider agin fiercely,
“I should hate to tell folks what I thought of ’em for even half
an hour. And there is no need of it, everybody can mind their own
bizness a good deal of the time, it don’t require much of any nack
to keep your tongue between your teeth, and not tell what you
think, to keep back things when it hain’t necessary to tell ’em.”
Sez I reasonable, “It is hard to do oft times, but it is much
better than to say a lot of things you don’t mean.”
Sez Tamer Ann, “Folks will git into places in this world where
it is impossible to git out peaceable without wigglin’ round and
deceivin’ a little.”
“There is always a open place above ’em,” sez I, “let ’em look for
help there and they will git it, and,” sez I firmly, “I have always
found that truth wuz the best to depend on in the long run even
from a worldly point of view, to say nothin’ of right and wrong.
It hain’t half so hard to keep kinder still and not talk a lot of
trash you don’t mean, and at the same time it saves your breath to
talk considerable about what you do like. And that I wuz always
quite a case to do. I always seem to have to talk about folks and
things that I like. The world is so full of beauty and goodness
and glory, and power and grandeur and loveliness, you meet all the
time folks so full of good qualities, things to admire and like,
that it uses up my breath. I never seem to have any left to praise
up things and folks I don’t like and look admirin’ at ’em, I don’t
seem to have the time and breath even if I wanted to, which I
don’t, Heaven knows.”
“Oh, well,” sez Tamer Ann, sithin’ deep, “it is so hard to know
what to do, sometimes I think it is better to use a little deceit,
if by doin’ so you can make folks feel agreeable, and make yourself
and others happier.”
Sez I dryly, very dry, dry as chips, “I spoze that is how Jack
felt, I spoze he felt that it would make you happier if he told you
he had done what you sot him to do, and Jack had partly done it,
as you know very well. I spoze he felt that it would make you and
himself happier and the friction lighter on the wheels of society,
and his poor little back, if he told you it wuz all done. But you
didn’t seem to like it, and the friction wuz severe judgin’ from
the groanin’s and screamin’s I heard from upstairs. But as long as
you do the same thing yourself, Tamer Ann Allen, and teach Jack to
do it, in the most powerful way, the way of example, you hadn’t ort
to whip him. For that is one theme for which I have labored long
and feel deeply, to not blame children for what we do ourselves and
teach them to do.”
“Well,” sez Tamer, foldin’ up her embroidery, “it is time to put
the teakettle on.” And she went out and shot the door middlin’
hard, but I didn’t care if she did, I had leaned against Duty and
felt considerable calm in my frame.
She got a real good supper, and I a-settin’ out on the porch could
hear her walk to and fro settin’ the table in the dining room,
Arabeller bein’ out in the kitchen cookin’ sunthin’. And then it
wuz I see that my talk to Tamer hadn’t struck in as I wanted it to,
but I pacified myself by turnin’ my thoughts onto the needecessity
of watchin’ after the seed is sown, and not be discouraged because
it won’t spring up the same hour you put it into the soil. No, I
felt (some of the time) that Tamer’s nater wuz kinder sandy soil,
bein’ drained by her different diseases, and beat down on by the
lurid glare of the climate she dwelt in most of the time, namely
them foamin’, blood-curdlin’ novels of hern, and I ort to wait in
patience, and as the Sam sez be willin’ to sow in season and out of
season, hopin’ that some of it would spring up and bear good fruit.
Well, the reason of this simely wuz the eppisode I witnessed
through the open winder between Tamer and poor little Jack. She
wuz learnin’ him a lesson in Gography every day, and as he had run
looser on account of company bein’ there, his lesson wuz belated
and he wuz tired, but she had sent him after his little Gography
and set him at it while she wuz settin’ the table. She told him
to bound Bolivia. Jack wuz in one of his wild moods, he had ’em
sometimes, restless, obstropulous moods, jest as we all have. Jack
wuz standin’ up on two chairs in front of his Ma some like the
Colossial Roads, I have heard Thomas J. read about.
In some things Hamen’s wife is real lax, laxer than I would be.
I should have made Jack stand up in front of me, or set. But she
didn’t mind, so he stood up with his feet on two chairs real
defiant lookin’ and uppish. And he spoke out loud and firm, and sez
he:
“I don’t like the word, Bolivia, Boliver is a good word, I will
bound Boliver,” and he stood up firmer than ever and the chairs
further apart, seemin’ly.
Sez Tamer, “Do you bound Bolivia.”
“Boliver,” sez Jack, “is bounded on the north by----”
“Bolivia!” sez Hamen’s wife.
“Boliver!” sez Jack firmly; “I like the word, and Boliver it shall
be!” And Tamer of course couldn’t stand that, and so she had to
whip him again, but I hearn him, as she dragged him upstairs, say
kinder low, but jest so she could hear him, “Boliver.”
And she tusseled more than half an hour with him, and supper wuz
belated, and she come down hot and wore out with her efforts to
make him give up, and sez she, “He is such a hard child to manage,
I can’t make him give up and say things right. Now, that child knew
that Boliver wuzn’t the right word, but still he wuz bound to have
his own way and say it as he wanted to.”
Then Duty gin me a real hard jog, I up and sez to her: “Children
are great cases to foller example and do what they see done.”
“What under the sun do you mean?” sez she wonderin’ly.
“Why,” sez I, “this very mornin’ when you wuz bound and determined
to call little Delight Tirzah, I told you that wuzn’t her name,
but you said that it wuz a good name and you should call her so. I
noticed Jack eyin’ us clost as if it wuz a new and agreeable idee,
that folks could alter names if they wanted to, and,” sez I firmly,
“Delight’s name is no more Tirzah than Bolivia is Boliver!”
“Oh, well,” sez Tamer, “that is of no consequence at all. What I do
and what Jack can do is two.”
“Yes,” sez I solemnly, “and it may turn out to be more than two in
the end.”
Sez she coldly, “I don’t know what you mean.” And to tell the
truth, I don’t really know as I knew myself, but it made a kinder
good endin’ to our talk. But as anybody can see Jack wuzn’t a mite
to blame in the Boliver affair, he is naturally very conscientious,
if they only knew enough to appreciate it, he always wants to fix
things jest right even in his play. I remember one time when I wuz
stayin’ there over Sunday he gin a remarkable instance of it.
Tamer wuz strict, I must say, about not lettin’ Jack play games
on Sunday, and he wuz good about mindin’, but I spoze he hankered
after playin’ sunthin’ when the time hung too heavy on his hands,
and, like older folks, he wanted a change. He had one Bible game
that Tamer let him play, but I spoze he had got tired of it, and
then the names wuz dretful tegus to keep the run on--Nebuchadnezer,
Melchizedec, Mephilboseth--good land! they wuz hard for grown folks
to git right. Hamen and his brother, John, wuz great cases to play
cards evenin’s, and Jack had a game that he played with ’em some
like authors. I had played it myself with him sometimes week-day
evenin’s, and Jack come to me that Sunday evenin’ and sez: “Aunt
Samantha, why can’t we play a Bible game with cards?”
And I sez, “I don’t see how you could fix it so as to play a Bible
game with ’em.”
And he sez, “Well, you can call the two spot Jacob, and I can call
for it, and we can call the ten spot Paul, or the Jack, and you can
call for him.”
And I sez, “I would hate to call such a good man as Paul the Jack.”
“Well,” sez he, “we could call the king Paul, and the queen Mary.”
But I talked him offen the idee, it didn’t seem right to me
somehow. But he wuz honest and likely about it and didn’t mean
no harm, and at the best it wuz only tryin’ to reconcile science
and religion, or religion and fashion, as so many do, holdin’ the
world in one hand and religion in the other, and tryin’ to carry
’em both stiddy. But Hamen and John laughed like two big gump
heads about it, and the next evenin’ when they wuz playin’ they
would call the two spot “Jacob” every time, and look at Jack and
laugh till I felt that it wuz enough to make him swing right out
and play cards Sunday, and not try to reconcile it with goodness
and religion. But Tamer, when she found out about it, whipped him
severe, she said it wuz irreverent and she wouldn’t have it. And
that wuz jest the way it wuz the hull durin’ time.
Well, we didn’t stay but a day or two after the Boliver affair.
Josiah felt that he must be to home, so we went, Tamer promisin’
Jack, who cried hard when we started, that he might come down and
stay several days with us in a week or so, when she went to see
Aunt Mary John she would leave him there and then stop and git him
on her way home.