Citation
Stories of the olden time

Material Information

Title:
Stories of the olden time
Creator:
Cheney, Ednah Dow Littlehale, 1824-1904
Littlehale, Nellie ( Illustrator )
Lee and Shepard ( Publisher )
Rockwell and Churchill ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Lee and Shepard
Manufacturer:
Rockwell and Churchill
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
48 p. : ill. ; 26 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1890 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1890
Genre:
Children's stories
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
"Published for the fair in aid of the New England Hospital."--t.p.
Statement of Responsibility:
Ednah D. Cheney ; illustrations by Nellie Littlehale.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
002224934 ( ALEPH )
ALG5206 ( NOTIS )
180989954 ( OCLC )

Full Text



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STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME
BY
EDNAH D. CHENEY
"I say the tale as it was said to me"
ILLUSTRATIONS BY NELLY LITTLEHALE
PUBLISHED FOR THE FAIR IN AID OF
THE NEW ENGLAND HOSPITAL
LEE AND SHEPARD BOSTON




CorP IuTr, 1890,
BY EDNAIi D. CHENEY.

lItSS OF
SachltrlI anb C burcjill,
BOSTON.




A-9-4
left







CONTENTS.
PAGE
PEG WESSON AT LOUISBURG 13
THE BLOCKADE RUNNER 21
VERSE 24
CONVERSATION HEARD IN A STAGE-COACII IN NEW ENGLAND 27
THE OWNER OF THE SKULL 31
THE MONKEYS 32
ANECDOTES OF WASHINGTON:
THE COFFEE KETTLE 33
CABBAGE AND MOLASSES 34
SHOPPING 37
OLD-FASHIONED COURTESY 37
THE YOUNG SCHOOLMASTER 39
EXTEMPORE RHYMES 41
PRACTICAL JOKES 42
GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMOTHER CRAFT 45







ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
THE STORY OF PEG \VESSON .F..'l.onisiece THE BLOCKADE RUNNER 19
CONVERSATION HEARD IN A STAGE-COACH IN NEW ENGLAND 25
GOING FOR THE SKULL 29
OLD-FASHIONED COURTESY 35
THE DOMICILIARY VISIT 43







INTRODUCTION
T HESE STORIES have remained as current tradition in our
family circle for many, many years, and one generation after another has listened to them with a pleasure which prevents impartial criticism of their literary merit.
Although often urged to place them on record, lest they should be lost with the generation now passing away, still it seemed almost an impertinence to put them into the printer's hands. Yet, following out the family motto, Finis coronal opius, I believed that no one could accuse me of using them for selfish ends, if I offered them to the Fair for the New-England Hospital. As Aristotle said of his greater works, they are published and not published." Those who have loved these simple stories, and desire to possess them, will buy and treasure this book. Those to whom the tales are but foolishness may pass them by, and they may be to them as if they were never spoken.
It has been a great pleasure to receive from one of the younger members of my father's family the beautiful designs which have been reproduced for this book. She




12 INTRODUCTION
has generously given them to the Hospital Fair, so that all the proceeds of the sale of the book, beyond the actual cost of publication, will go to the Hospital treasury.
It seemed to me good thus to "gather up the fragments that nothing be lost," and I shall not feel the poorer that I have no longer a monopoly of this inheritance.
EDNAH DOW CHENEY.
(LITTLEHALE.)
JAMAICA PLAIN, Sept. 8, 189o.




PEG WESSON AT LOUISBURG
A TRADITION SUPPOSED TO BE TOLD BY AN OLD LADY OF SEVENTY-SIX TO A GROUP OF YOUNG GIRLS
T was on a fine afternoon in the month of May, 1775, that
the large mansion of Colonel Beach was full of the hum of merry voices and the sound of spinning-wheels. The women of Gloucester had heard of Lexington and Concord, were assured that this was but the beginning of a great struggle for the freedom of their country, and were eager to help on the work.
The spinning-wheel was then no antiquarian relic, polished to stand in the parlor, but a necessity of every household.
The industry of the women was to furnish the yarn, to be knitted by the same nimble and loving fingers into warm socks to protect the feet of the men on their long marches. So a spinning-bee was arranged for, and the wheels had whirred busily all clay, until a hundred skeins had been spun, and the record of the most famous spinners of the town had been beaten by a young girl.
While waiting for the young men, who were to join the group in the evening, and for the good supper their generous hostess was preparing for them, the young girls gathered about Mother Bedell, the oldest woman in town,




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

who had done her part well in the spinning, and begged her for a story of the olden time.
After some apologetic preliminaries the old lady thus began the well-known tale:
"I was a-going to tell you about Peg Wesson. Of course I knowed her well, for I was living down to the Spring then, and she'd never drink any water but Vinson's Spring, 'cos' she said she'd had it charmed; but some of us thought when she couldn't get Vinson's spring-water, she'd make so'thing stronger do just as well.
"She was a little woman, weighed just ninety-nine pounds, witches' weight, and being so light, was handy when she wanted to ride on a broomstick through the sky, as of course she did, though I can't say as I ever seen her sure with my own eyes; though Lias called me once to see her, and it did look like something in the sky with a long tail to it, or stick, or so'thing.
I don't know what she was in the sky, but she was a plague on earth, that's certain She was in everybody's mess, and making trouble everywhere. As sure as you was a-churning, and all in a hurry for the butter to come, you'd see her prowling around at the window, and then you might churn and churn till your arms dropped off, but no signs of butter. 0Qne day my mother got so hopping mad she couldn't stand it. Father's folks had sent word they was a-coming to dinner, and we hadn't a bit o' butter in the house, so we skimmed all the milk we had, and I -was set to churning, and didn't I see old Peg through the lilacbushes, and then I knew 'twan't no use if I churned my




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

arms off, so I called 'out, 'Mother! mother! the butter won't come! Old Peg's bewitched it! And then she said, 'I'll fix the old witch!' and she was just a-going to iron father's Sunday shirt, so she had the old box iron pretty hot, and she pulled out the heater and stuck it right into the churn, and wasn't there a sizzling and a hissing and old Peg a-screaming as if she was burned to death, and then I took hold of the dasher with good spunk, I tell you; and it wasn't five minutes afore I had as pretty a lump o' yeller butter as ever you seen in your life. Many a time brother Jerry and me used to stick pins into the chair, and try to make her sit down in it; but we never could ; she'd allers find uis Out, and roar, 'Oh, you little devils I know what ye're about!'
"But what's that to do with the siege ?" asked Fanny.
"I'll tell you. All our fishermen was mightily stirred up about the French pirates, as they called 'em, and declared they'd have a hand in breaking uip -the hornet's nest. Captain Byles got up a company to go down to Louisburg, and every man and boy in town wanted to go with him. I guess he had about forty on 'em. Likely lads they was, too ; there's my son, that's been dead these twenty year, and Jack Coas, father of this Bill Coas you girls think so much of, and job Stanwood, and Thomas Ayres, and Jim Parsons, and lots of 'em. Gay young fellers they were, and calculated on sowing a good many wild oats on the trip. The night afore they went away, they took a notion to go up and see old Peg Wesson. She lived in the old Garrison House up in Back Street. The fellers had been having a




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

drink, of course, and they wasn't any too perlite to old Peg. I don't suppose they meant any harm, but they did rile her up pretty well ; hunting all over the house for her broomstick, and trying to make her get on it and ride, and asking her *to make them some frog-broth in the Devil's caldron, and pulling out toads they said they brought for her supper. Mad enough old Peg got at last: her eyes flashed fire, and she flew around the house like a parched pea on a warming-pan. She was a little thing, and couldn't fight 'em; but she could swear and curse awful, and job Stanwood told me a pirate captain couldn't beat her that night. At last they got kind o' scared, and the last words she said was, 'You'll see me arter you at Louisburgl'
"The men laughed at her threats, you may guess, and when they got down to Louisburg they'd say to one another, 'Who's seen Peg Wesson?' But soon lots o' strange things began to happen: their canteens would be emptied, and their guns be all bent up, and they had dreadful dreams, and cramps in their bones, and all sorts o' mischief was a-going on.
"'I feel in my bones that Peg Wesson's here,' says job, 'though I can't see no sign of her. I've had just such shivers down my back as I did that night she cursed and swore so.'
" Then they began to notice a great black crow hovering over the camp. She was all alone, and sometimes she'd dart off as if she was a-going a thousand miles, and then she'd wheel back right down into the middle of the camp, and snatch off a piece of meat as like as not, and as sure




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

as she did, the cramp and the shivers and the ringing in the ears came on worsen ever.
,, At last job said, with an oath I won't repeat to young cars, 'That crow's Peg Wesson! I'm bound she is
'I'll shoot the old witch, if it is,' said his brother David. Now, David was the best shot in town, and he had a good fair mark; but Lord's sake! the shot didn't hurt her no more than if it ha' been cold water, and she wheeled around and around as if o' purpose to taunt 'em. James Parsons, he was a minister's son, and he said, 'You fools, base metal won't kill a witch; nothing but silver 'll do that,' so he pulled out his silver sleeve-buttons, and put 'em in his gun, and pointed 'em ri-ht at the crow. Down she came plump into the midst of 'em, black as night and poor as a church mouse, and dead as a door-nail."
" Is that all ? said Fanny anybody could shoot a crow! "
"No, it's not all, Miss Pert," said the old lady. "On that very day, Peg Wesson was walking around the Garrison House, plotting mischief, of course, and suddenly down she fell, putting her hand to her side, and groaning fearfully; and she was took up and put in her bed, and she never left it. But she lived till the boys came home from Louisburg; and every one as had anything to do with killing., her came home sick, and some on 'em died.
And when they went to bury her, they had eight of the strongest men in town, some o' the very ones that used to plague her so, and though she was such a little woman, she was so heavy that the sweat ran down their faces a-carrying




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

her; and when the women washed the body, there was the mark o' the hot heater mother'd flung into the churn, just as plain as could be."
"Did the butter come any better after she died ?" questioned Fanny; but the old woman had sunk back exhausted with her long story, and did not answer her.
"Poor Peg," said Sally to herself; "I1 suppose they really worried her to death. Do you really believe in witches, mother?" she said, turning to the old lady.
" Do I believe in my Bible?" returned Mother Bedell, rousing uip. 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live! and don't you believe in Cotton Mather, too ? the blessed man that came down here to Cape Ann, and he heard lions a-roaring in the woods, unless 't was the Devil as is more likely, perhaps, and saw the moving rock, and met the Devil over in West Parish. Haven't you seen the print on the ledge out there? and haven't you seen the rock move? and if part's true, why, of course, the whole is. You'll ask me if Ibelieve in honey pinks and codfish next thing. Wasn't Margaret Prince tried at Salem for witchcraft, and deserved to be hung, too?"
The girls saw that the old woman was getting excited by modern scepticism.
"Aunty wants her tea," said Fanny. Let's leave her alone, and look and see if the boys are coming."










STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

THE BLOCKADE RUNNER
T HIS STORY, for years a tradition in our family, has, so far
as I know, never before been committed to writing. I do not know its origin, nor can I vouch for its historic accuracy. I can only aver that it has delighted children for sixty years, and when my voice is silent, I would like to have smiles break over the faces of the little ones, as they listen to the story:During the Revolutionary War, the British blockaded the harbor of New London. A British frigate lay outside the harbor, and the favorite occupation of her officers was to watch the little vessels which tried to evade the blockade, and run into the harbor with such supplies as the inhabitants needed.
One beautiful day, when a light breeze was blowing, and the tide was slowly ebbing, the officer in command of the frigate stood on the deck, looking over the water, when he saw a beautiful little sloop sailing merrily over the sea, evidently bound for the forbidden port of New London. Strange notes of music came from the vessel, but nobody was to be seen but an old man and a young chap, who appeared to be absorbed in his fiddle.




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

Disposed -to get some amusement, the officer caught up his speaking-trumpet, and hailed the little sloop.
" Halloo What ship's that?"
Back came the answer, promptly, in the boy's voice, Lively Peggy,' sir! "
" Where you from?"
"Stoningtown!" with a broad Yankee accent on the town.
"Stoningtown! Where's Stoningtown ?"
" Lord's sake! Don't you know where Stoningtown is? Why, all the little boys and girls on our P'int know where Stoningtown is!" He continued,
" Play up, John Tease 'em, Deacon i
Tee iddy me I! Tee iddy mee I!
De ump de iddle dee I!
Dee ump de iddle de ardy oh"
This strange combination of sounds accompanied the
scraping of the old cracked fiddle.
" Where you bound ? came through the speaking-trumpet.
" New London," was the bold answer.
"What's your lading? "
"Hobgoblins and long-faced gentry!"
" Hobgoblins and long-faced gentry! What the deuce are those ?"
" Lord's sake, don't you know ? Pigs and turkeys, to be sure!
"Play up, John! Tease 'em, Deacon!
Tee iddy me I! Tee iddy mee I!
Dee ump de iddle dee I!
De ump de iddle de ardy oh!"




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

Meantime the little sloop was sailing gayly on her way, her young skipper apparently not at all troubled by the questions put to him. The frigate followed, at some distance. The officer now thought it time to come to the point.
"Heave to! or I'll fire into you," came through the speaking-trumpet.
"Fire and be darned! But you better not spill the Deacon's ile, I tell you
"Play up, John Tease 'em, Deacon
Tee iddy me I! Tee iddy inee I!
Dee ump de iddle dee I1
Dee ump de iddle de ardy oh!"
Strike, or I'll fire! roared the Englishman, now thoroughly roused.
Strike! Who shall I strike? Nobody here to strike but fayther; struck him t'other day, an' he struck back rather hard; thought I wouldn't try that again.
" Play up, John Tease 'em, Deacon!
Tee iddy me I! Tee iddy mee I1
Dee ump de iddle de I!
Dee ump de iddle de ardy oh!"
His patience being exhausted, the officer gave the order to fire, but the shot went skipping harmlessly over the water, not touching the little sloop, and at that moment the men on board the frigate felt her keel grate on the sand bar. The frigate had carelessly followed the sloop, whose young master perfectly knew the harbor, and that his




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

craft could float lightly over the bar, on which the frigate, drawing so much more water, would be stranded.
As the frigate resounded with the cry, Ship's aground; all hands to lighten ship!" the little sloop sailed gayly away into New London, and the last sounds heard were,"Play up, John! Tease 'em, Deacon
Tee iddy me I! Tee iddy mee I!
Dee ump de iddle dee I!
Dee ump de iddle de ardy oh!"
THE fox jumped over the parson's gate,
And stole the poultry from under his nose.
Ha! ha said the parson, as he popped out his pate,
A fine fat hen and away she goes.




JIL
...... .....
WON







STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

CONVERSATION HEARD IN A STAGE-COACH IN NEW ENGLAND
F RIENDSHIP, Miss Bishop, is like a spider's web, the least breath of air will destroy it.
"Now Bets Wade and I was gals together, all the difference was, I was rich, and Bets was poor! One day Bets got married, and there's no end to the things my husband di'n gin that gal. He gin her sights and sights o' things. He gin her a great keeler tub and a little keeler tub; he gin her two wooden bowls, painted yellow outside and red in; he gin her a churn and a churn dash, too, Miss Bishop; and he gin her a peck o' raisins and a quart o' tea. And that ungrateful wretch never sot foot in my house for two years!
"One day as I was sitting ca'ding tow before the house (I never thought myself above ca'ding tow, Miss Bishop), a chaise drove up to the door, and who should it be but Bets Wade! So I thought I must be polite in my own house, so I said, Bets, come in.'
"She come in and she sot down. My husband come in; I hit him the wink not to speak to Bets. That touched her up pretty well, for my husband allers sot everything by Bets, all the world;- more too, sometimes. She said she had been living so long in that seaport town, Pawtucket,




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

she thought she must once more visit her country friends. That seaport town, Pawtucket! That made me mad, Miss Bishop! it's no more of a seaport town than Merrimac River. But I'd lived too long in the woods to be scared by an owl, much more by Bets Wade!
"Bets asked if I wouldn't give her some tea? I told her I would if she'd wait till teatime come. So I went down into the cellar, and I got a pound o' butter, and a pound 0, pound cake, and a pound o' shortcake, and two pounds o' sage cheese o' my own making. Bets Wade never put better in her mouth in her life. And I brought 'em up, and I put 'em on the table, and I said, Bets, eat!' and good Lord, she did eat! If she ate one mouthful, she ate two pounds. I should think the critter hadn't had anything to eat for a month.
"She said she believed she -must go, for she had an antic horse and new shay. Antic horse! the critter wan't bigger than a Newfoundland dog; they had to tie the poor critter to a post to keep him from tumbling down! and as for the chaise, that was made in Adam's day, and then it wan't new! no, it never was new! And if Bets Wade ever got a ride off that horse she did well. No, she never did! They had to take the poor critter into the chaise afore they got home."




GOING FOR THE SKULL.







STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

THE OWNER OF THE SKULL
S OME YOUNG MEN were carousing in an ale-house one
night, when one of the company observed that they were digging up a graveyard in the vicinity, and there was a great heap of skulls lying there.
Another proposed that they offer five dollars to the barmaid if she would go and fetch one of the skulls from the heap. She was accordingly called in, accepted the offer, and soon started on her mission. Meanwhile, one of the young men ran to the burial-ground, and secreted himself behind the heap of skulls.
The night was dark- and weird, and the girl was eager to finish her task. She seized one of the skulls, and was about to bear it off, when a deep, gruff voice was heard to say, "That's mine!'" She dropped the skull quickly enough and picked up another, when 'again the deep voice sounded, That's, mine! The plucky girl was staggered for a minute, but recognizing the identity of the voices, she exclaimed, "You lie, you rascal! you can't have two skulls !" She started on the run for home, and it is needle ss to say that the young man followed her. She burst into the room, threw the skull on the table, exclaiming,
" Take it, quick, for the owner's after it!"
She had certainly earned her five dollars.




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

THE MONKEYS
A YOUNG SAILOR had taken out to the coast of Africa a
quantity of red woollen caps to sell to the natives, hoping to gain a handsome profit on his venture. As he was crossing a wood, on his way from one settlement to another, to sell his caps, he was overtaken by weariness, and concluded to take a nap oYi the ground. He opened his bundle, and, taking out a cap, put it on his head to protect it, and was soon fast asleep.
When he awoke, what wvas his consternation to find his bundle open, and every one of the caps gone. He presently heard a great chattering overhead ; and, on looking up into the tall trees around, there was a troop of monkeys, each one dressed in a red cap, and full of delight in his novel adornment.
It was hopeless to try to reach these nimble thieves, who ran up and down the high trees as quicly as squirrels, and the poor sailor saw all his hopes of a profitable trade utterly destroyed. In his anguish he plucked the cap from his head, and, throwing it on the ground, exclaimed, "There, since you've got all the rest, take that, too!" The little rascals watched his every movement, and with the -nat-




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

ural instinct of imitation, they no sooner saw his gesture of despair than every one of them snatched the red cap from his head, and cast it violently on the ground. The sailor hastily picked up the caps, and went on his way a wiser and a happy- man.
THE COFFEE-KETTLE
T HE PATRIOTIC self-sacrifice with which the women of
Boston gave up their favorite beverage, tea, should never be forgotten.
When General Washington took possession of his headquarters at Cambridge, his camp was not very well supplied with furniture.
One day his servant went to a neighbor's to borrow a tea-kettle, in order to prepare the General's breakfast.
To the servant's request, the lady replied, Give my com-pliments to General Washington; tell him I have not got a lea-kettle, but I have a coffee-kettle, which is heartily at his service."~




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

CABBAGE AND MOLASSES
A NOTHER STORY, told of this time, is very characteristic of
the ideal of American cookery.
As Washington was travelling through the country, he one day stopped at a farmhouse to get something to eat.
The good farmer's wife had all the zeal in the cause that heart could wish, and she set before the General a smoking plate of pork and cabbage, on which she began to pour the molasses with a profuse, hand. The General tried to stop her: "There is enough, my good woman," he said, enough!
11 0 General," she replied, if it was all molasses, it would not be too good for you "




OLD-FASHIONED COURTESY.




m




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

SHOPPING
A S NATIONALISM threatens to destroy the time-honored and delightful occupation of shopping, it may be worth while to preserve all anecdotes illustrating old methods.
A salesman was trying to persuade a customer to buy stuff for a dress, but she objected to the price.
" I'll tell you what I'll do," he said: I'll throw in sewingsilk to make it up. I suppose fifteen or twenty skeins will be enoug-h?"
Half a dozen would have been sufficient, but the lady was so pleased at the idea of getting a dozen skeins more than she needed, that she closed the bargain at once.
OLD-FASHIONED COURTESY
A retail dry-goods dealer of the olden time was so celebrated for his unfailing- patience and courtesy in bearing the trying ordeal of showing goods, and being beaten down in prices, to which he was subjected by the methods of shopping then in vogue, that one lady bet with another that she could not overcome his long-suffering endurance.
The friend accepted the bet, and accordingly visited his store, where she asked to see the richest velvets he could show her. After he had taken down piece after piece, shown




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

every variety of color, width, and quality, and she had haggled over the price, and put every imaginable question about the comparative merits of the goods, the lady finally selected one of the most costly fabrics, and, laying one of the oldfashioned large copper cents on the counter, said in her sweetest tones, I should like a cent's worth of this velvet."
The shopkeeper was not at fault. He took up the
copper coin, laid it on the corner of the velvet, and with his scissors dexterously clipped around it, folded it neatly in a nice paper, and handed it to the lady with a graceful bow, saying, Many thanks for your custom, madam."
The lady had lost her bet, but she accepted the situation, became the purchaser of a large amount of goods on the spot, and was ever after a regular customer.




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

THE YOUNG SCHOOLMASTER
M ASTER S., as he was familiarly called, was known
throughout the neighborhood for his wit and his jokes. His readiness at rhyming and his quick answers were very amusing, and, although it is difficult to give the full aroma of his jokes on paper, some of them seem worthy of preservation.
He commenced teaching at the age of twelve years, soon after the close of the Revolutionary War.
He was an intelligent boy, and far in advance of the children of his age in reading, writing and arithmetic. His price was but a few pence per week for each pupil, and generally was appropriated, as soon as earned, to the needs of the family.
So when the term was finished, there was just one dollar dlue him, -this he had privately intended to keep for his own use, but, while crossing- the rocky pastures towards his lonely home, he met his father with a mealbag over his shoulder.
"Well, Billy," said he, how much money have you got ?
He was an honest boy, and replied, One dollar."
"Well, my boy, you may go right back to the mill, and get a bag of meal with it."




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

The poor boy swallowed his disappointment, trudged back to the -mill, and with the heavy load over his young shoulders, started again for his home, far across the stony pastures.
In his latter years lie had some ducks of which he was very fond, and tended them carefully. But the mischievous schoolboys never failed to annoy the poor creatures every time they passed that way. If a tall or a head protruded from under the barn, woe to the duck! She would be dragged from her hiding-place, with a shrill quack, quack, quack, till the owner appeared, and the boys scattered.
One day two ducks were selected for dinner, and their necks having been dissevered, their heads, minus their bodies, were carefully arranged in the accustomed place, protruding from under the barn. The boys made for them," and were appalled at the extent of their mischief, when they discovered that their victims were so readily beheaded.
just then Mr. S. appeared in sight, apparently horrorstricken.
cc Now I've caught you," said he, "and I am going right up town to make a complaint and have you arrested."
But they were thoroughly frightened, and begged to be let off this time, and never again would they meddle with the ducks.
So the boys had their punishment, and Mr. S. his satisfaction.




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

EXTEMPORE RHYMES
W HEN HE once accidentally cut his thumb with one of
Barlow's razors, in an apothecary shop, Mr. Phelps, the apothecary, said, Give us an original rhyme at once, Mr. S., and I will dress your wound without charge."
Mr. S. at once replied," See, from my thumb the crimson current flow;
To Barlow's knife the luckless wound I owe; Here, Porter,' take it, place it with the rest.
Phelps, bring the salve, and let the wound be dressed."
Mr. Norwood, a neighbor, meeting him on the street,
said,
1 MIr. Saville, how do you travel ?
He instantly replied,
"Frederic Nor'-ard
Straight for'ard!"

1 The clerk.




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

PRACTICAL JOKES
T ALKING WITH some gentlemen friends about his garden,
of which he was very fond, he said,"A very curious thing has happened to my sweetapple tree."
"What is it?" they all asked.
"Why, there is a very beautiful looking pear on it."
"0 Mr. S., that is a hoax," said they.
"Upon my word 'tis true," said Mr. S., "and if you will come down to my place you can see it."
Accordingly they came, and were shown a lair of beautiful apples on the end of a twig. There were no olkei, ajfples on /ie lree.
A.S.




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THE DOMICILIARY VISIT.

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STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMOTHER CRAFT
H OWEVER STRONGLY we are convinced of the right of our own cause, it is always well to take a side glimpse at the way things look to those opposed to us.
This story was furnished me by a young girl who belongs to a branch of the Littlehale family which settled in New Brunswick, and who have cherished the Tory reminiscences of their ancestors, as others have those on the patriotic side. Now, on the shores of the Pacific, they unite with us in loyal devotion to American ideas and institutions.
At the time of the breaking-out of the Revolutionary War, our great-great-grandmother Craft lived on a farm in New-York State.
It was a prosperous-looking little place, with its clustering barns filled with timothy and sweet-clover hay, and the big log cabin, surrounded by blossoming fruit-trees, and gay, nodding hollyhocks.
Doubly sweet and peaceful did it look to our greatgreat-grandfather, one spring morning, as he rode away from it, perhaps forever. He was a stanch Loyalist, and had joined the English army. His young wife had got him ready with loving courage, bravely restraining her own lonesome




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

sadness, and keeping his thoughts turned, toward the earnest struggle before him.
All their heavy silver plate, precious family heirlooms, and her few jewels he buried under some oaks in the pasture, the night before he went away.
Early in the morning he rode off, after one long, last embrace. Looking back, he saw the spirited nod of a tearstained face bob a farewell, as the slight hand waved its white signal of courage.
The first few days after his departure were strangely quiet. Rumors of fierce battles were borne to the waiting, anxious women. Mingled with these came reports of forages made on settlements by divisions of the armies.
One small raid had been committed in this neighborhood. Brave Mistress Craft had seen her fat, soft-eyed cattle driven off, but, so far, had been personally unmolested. One warm afternoon she sent her little hand-maiden off on an errand, and sat alone, busily spinning flax.
The distant, regular thud of horses' feet made her hurry to the window. Uip the narrow lane came a squad of Revolutionists, and, letting down the pine bars, they rode up in front of the cabin, and dismounted.
The officer in command, red and coarse-faced, threw open the door without ceremony. and tramped into the low living-room, followed by his men.
Courteously rose great-great-grandmother from her chair, and, with the blood flowing fast through her thumping heart, asked their errand, gravely.
Without answering, the commander looked keenly around




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

the room. He opened the old, sombre-looking desk, and searched hurriedly about its few compartments. He threw open the door of a deep wall-cupboard, and tossed its heterogeneous contents about recklessly. Still silent, he poked vigorously about the stones of the fireplace, and then strode from the room.
In nervous fright, the lonely little woman listened to the troops scattering through the house. Boxes were overturned, drawers opened, and the occasional crash of broken china testified to the eager investigation of closets.
Fifteen minutes of direful suspense, and then into her presence they flocked again.
She stood quietly, just where they had left her, with hands clasped tightly behind her back.
" Come, my good woman, we know you have plate and money. just be so kind as to tell us where you've hidden it, and be quick about it, too! said the officer, deliberately unsheathing his sword.
Any one standing behind her would have seen the two hands press vise-like toorether. Those in front saw the blood fly hotly to the pale cheeks. The bright, spirited eyes looked resolutely into those of the brutal officer.
" I shall not tell you, sir," she deliberately replied.
An expression of intense admiration came over the face of a soldier in the rear. The others looked on stolidly while the officer advanced a step closer toward the slight figure, and repeated the command, this time with an oath.
Finding the answer just as firm, and the strong little face just as determined, he grasped her by both arms and stood




STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME

her in front of the fireplace. Then,. holding his sword aloft, lie swore roundly that he would cut her head from her body, if she would not reveal the hiding-place.
Quite quietly and clearly came the answer:
"Nevertheless, I cannot tell you!"
A bit closer pressed the interested soldiers as the officer raised his sword and thrust it swiftly by one side of her neck and then the other, reiterating,
"Tell and you shan't be hurt, tell, quickly!
Some lazy yellowjackets sailed slowly in the open door. The distant, deep tinkle of a cow-bell floated in on the air, and the pungent scent of marigolds came with it. The sword glistened bright by her neck, and the soldier in the rear turned away his head. Only a moment, and then, for the fourth time, the answer came:
"I never shall tell you, -so kill me."
Silence reigned, as she stood quietly, with her head thrown back defiantly.
The men watched their commander.
For a second he stood motionless, then, turning, he gruffly ordered them to raid the house for provisions,
As they filed out, he knelt at the feet of the brave woman, and, cutting the silver buckles from her shoes, followed them quietly from the room.
BERTA L.