• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Introduction
 Peg Wesson at Louisburg
 The blockade runner
 Verse
 Conversation heard in a stage-coach...
 The owner of the skull
 The monkeys
 Anecdotes of Washington: The coffee...
 Anecdotes of Washington: Cabbage...
 Shopping
 The young schoolmaster
 Great-great-grandmother craft
 Back Cover






Title: Stories of the olden time
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00078659/00001
 Material Information
Title: Stories of the olden time
Physical Description: 48 p. : ill. ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Cheney, Ednah Dow Littlehale, 1824-1904
Littlehale, Nellie ( Illustrator )
Lee and Shepard ( Publisher )
Rockwell and Churchill ( Printer )
Publisher: Lee and Shepard
Place of Publication: Boston
Manufacturer: Rockwell and Churchill
Publication Date: c1890
 Subjects
Subject: 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
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: Ednah D. Cheney ; illustrations by Nellie Littlehale.
General Note: "Published for the fair in aid of the New England Hospital."--t.p.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00078659
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224934
notis - ALG5206
oclc - 180989954

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page 1
    Frontispiece
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Dedication
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    List of Illustrations
        Page 9
        Page 10
    Introduction
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Peg Wesson at Louisburg
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    The blockade runner
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Verse
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
    Conversation heard in a stage-coach in New England
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    The owner of the skull
        Page 31
    The monkeys
        Page 32
    Anecdotes of Washington: The coffee kettle
        Page 33
    Anecdotes of Washington: Cabbage and molasses
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
    Shopping
        Page 37
        Old-fashioned courtesy
            Page 37
            Page 38
    The young schoolmaster
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Extempore rhymes
            Page 41
        Practical jokes
            Page 42
            Page 43
            Page 44
    Great-great-grandmother craft
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
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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





















































COPYRIGHTr, 1890,

BY EDNAII D. CHENEY.


iPRESs or
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BOSTON.










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CONTENTS.




PAGE
PEG WESSON AT LOUISBURG 13

THE BLOCKADE RUNNER 21

VERSE 24

CONVERSATION HEARD IN A STAGE-COACH 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.


THE STORY OF PEG WESSON

THE BLOCKADE RUNNER

CONVERSATION HEARD IN A STAGE-COACH IN NEW

GOING FOR THE SKULL

OLD-FASHIONED COURTESY

THE DOMICILIARY VISIT


PAGE
S .Frontispiece

19

ENGLAND .25

29

35

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 o1pus, 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 frag-
ments 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, 1890.

















PEG WESSON AT LOUISBURG

A TRADITION SUPPOSED TO BE TOLD BY AN OLD LADY OF
SEVENTY-SIX TO A GROUP OF YOUNG GIRLS


IT 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 day, 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. One 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 lilac-
bushes, 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 us 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 up 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 calcu-
lated 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 wa'n'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 Louisburg!'
"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 shiv-
ers 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
ears, '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 right 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 Garri-
son House, plotting mischief, of course, and suddenly down
she fell, putting her hand to her side, and groaning fear-
fully; 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?" ques-
tioned Fanny; but the old woman had sunk back exhausted
with her long story, and did not answer her.
"Poor Peg," said Sally to herself; I 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 up. 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 I believe 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."













/


THE BLOCKADE RUNNER.


Ir,









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!
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 dis-
tance. 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 mee I!
Dee ump de iddle dee I!
Dee ump de iddle de ardy oh!"

"Strike, or I'll fire! roared the Englishman, now thor-
oughly roused.
"Strike! Who shall I strike? Nobody here to strike
but father; 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 I!
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.
















































(I -(:










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 dif-
ference 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
o' 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."

































K-


GOING FOR THE SKULL.









STORIES OF THE OLDEN TIME


THE OWNER OF THE SKULL



SOME 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 bar-
maid 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 needless 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 oh 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 was 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 quickly 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 head-
quarters 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
compliments 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 "
"0 General," she replied, "if it was all molasses, it
would not be too good for you !"









































































OLD-FASHIONED) COURTESY.






























4









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 sewing-
silk to make it up. I suppose fifteen or twenty skeins will
be enough ?"
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 bear-
ing 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


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 sewing-
silk to make it up. I suppose fifteen or twenty skeins will
be enough ?"
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 bear-
ing 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 hag-
gled 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 old-
fashioned 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 due 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 meal-
bag 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 he 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 tail 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 horror-
stricken.
"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, -
Mr. Saville, how do you travel?"
IHe instantly replied, -

"Frederic Nor'-ard
Straight forward! "


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 sweet-
apple 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 fair of
beautiful apples on the end of a twig. There were no
other apples on th/e ree.
A. S.













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1 I-iL D)OMICILIARIY VlTSI F









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 clus-
tering 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 great-
great-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 pas-
ture, 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 tear-
stained 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 for-
ages 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. Up the narrow lane came a squad of Rev-
olutionists, 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 over-
turned, 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, deliber-
ately unsheathing his sword.
Any one standing behind her would have seen the two
hands press vise-like together. 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,
he 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 sha'n't be hurt, -tell, quickly!"
Some lazy yellow-jackets 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.




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