University of Virginia Library

“MIS' ELDERKIN'S PITCHER.”

YE see, boys,” said Sam Lawson, as we
were gathering young wintergreen on a
sunny hillside in June, — “ye see, folks
don't allers know what their marcies is
when they sees 'em. Folks is kind o'
blinded; and, when a providence comes
along, they don't seem to know how to
take it, and they growl and grumble about what turns
out the best things that ever happened to 'em in their
lives. It 's like Mis' Elderkin's pitcher.”

“What about Mis' Elderkin's pitcher?” said both
of us in one breath.

“Didn't I never tell ye, now?” said Sam: “why,
I wanter know?”

No, we were sure he never had told us; and Sam,

as usual, began clearing the ground by a thorough introduction,
with statistical expositions.

“Wal, ye see, Mis' Elderkin she lives now over to
Sherburne in about the handsomest house in Sherburne,
— a high white house, with green blinds and
white pillars in front, — and she rides out in her own
kerridge; and Mr. Elderkin, he 's a deakin in the
church, and a colonel in the malitia, and a s'lectman,
and pretty much atop every thing there is goin' in
Sherburne, and it all come of that 'are pitcher.”

“What pitcher?” we shouted in chorus.

“Lordy massy! that 'are 's jest what I 'm a goin'
to tell you about; but, ye see, a feller's jest got to
make a beginnin' to all things.

“Mis' Elderkin she thinks she's a gret lady nowadays,
I s'pose; but I 'member when she was Miry
Brown over here 'n Oldtown, and I used to be waitin'
on her to singing-school.

“Miry and I was putty good friends along in them
days, — we was putty consid'able kind o' intimate.
Fact is, boys, there was times in them days when I
thought whether or no I wouldn't take Miry myself,”
said Sam, his face growing luminous with the pleasing

idea of his former masculine attractions and privileges.
“Yis,” he continued, “there was a time
when folks said I could a hed Miry ef I'd asked her;
and I putty much think so myself, but I didn't say
nothin': marriage is allers kind o' ventursome; an'
Miry had such up-and-down kind o' ways, I was sort
o' fraid on 't.

“But Lordy massy! boys, you mustn't never tell
Hepsy I said so, 'cause she'd be mad enough to bite a
shingle-nail in two. Not that she sets so very gret
by me neither; but then women's backs is allers up
ef they think anybody else could a hed you, whether
they want you themselves or not.

“Ye see, Miry she was old Black Hoss John
Brown's da'ter, and lived up there in that 'are big
brown house by the meetin'-house, that hes the red
hollyhock in the front yard. Miry was about the
handsomest gal that went into the singers' seat a
Sunday.

“I tell you she wa'n't none o' your milk-and-sugar
gals neither, — she was 'mazin' strong built. She
was the strongest gal in her arms that I ever see.
Why, I 've seen Miry take up a barrel o' flour, and lift

it right into the kitchen; and it would jest make the
pink come into her cheeks like two roses, but she
never seemed to mind it a grain. She had a good
strong back of her own, and she was straight as a
poplar, with snappin' black eyes, and I tell you there
was a snap to her tongue too. Nobody never got
ahead o' Miry; she'd give every fellow as good as he
sent, but for all that she was a great favorite.

“Miry was one o' your briery, scratchy gals, that
seems to catch fellers in thorns. She allers fit and
flouted her beaux, and the more she fit and flouted
'em the more they 'd be arter her. There wa'n't a
gal in all Oldtown that led such a string o' fellers arter
her; 'cause, you see, she'd now and then throw
'em a good word over her shoulder, and then they 'd
all fight who should get it, and she'd jest laugh to
see 'em do it.

“Why, there was Tom Sawin, he was one o' her
beaux, and Jim Moss, and Ike Bacon; and there was
a Boston boy, Tom Beacon, he came up from Cambridge
to rusticate with Parson Lothrop; he thought
he must have his say with Miry, but he got pretty
well come up with. You see, he thought 'cause he

was Boston born that he was kind o' aristocracy, and
hed a right jest to pick and choose 'mong country
gals; but the way he got come up with by Miry was
too funny for any thing.”

“Do tell us about it,” we said, as Sam made an
artful pause, designed to draw forth solicitation.

“Wal, ye see, Tom Beacon he told Ike Bacon about
it, and Ike he told me. 'Twas this way. Ye see,
there was a quiltin' up to Mis' Cap'n Broad's, and
Tom Beacon he was there; and come to goin' home
with the gals, Tom he cut Ike out, and got Miry all
to himself; and 'twas a putty long piece of a walk
from Mis' Cap'n Broad's up past the swamp and the
stone pastur' clear up to old Black Hoss John's.

“Wal, Tom he was in high feather 'cause Miry
took him, so that he didn't reelly know how to behave;
and so, as they was walkin' along past Parson
Lothrop's apple-orchard, Tom thought he'd try bein'
familiar, and he undertook to put his arm round Miry.
Wal, if she didn't jest take that little fellow by his
two shoulders and whirl him over the fence into the
orchard quicker 'n no time. `Why,' says Tom, `the
fust I knew I was lyin' on my back under the appletrees

lookin' up at the stars.' Miry she jest walked
off home and said nothin' to nobody, — it wa'n't her
way to talk much about things; and, if it hedn't
ben for Tom Beacon himself, nobody need 'a' known
nothin' about it. Tom was a little fellow, you see,
and 'mazin' good-natured, and one o' the sort that
couldn't keep nothin' to himself; and so he let the
cat out o' the bag himself. Wal, there didn't nobody
think the worse o' Miry. When fellers find a gal
won't take saace from no man, they kind o' respect
her; and then fellers allers thinks ef it hed ben them,
now, things 'd 'a' been different. That's jest what
Jim Moss and Ike Bacon said: they said, why Tom
Beacon was a fool not to know better how to get
along with Miry, — they never had no trouble. The
fun of it was, that Tom Beacon himself was more
crazy after her than he was afore; and they say he
made Miry a right up-and-down offer, and Miry she
jest wouldn't have him.

“Wal, you see, that went agin old Black Hoss
John's idees: old Black Hoss was about as close as
a nut and as contrairy as a pipperage-tree. You
ought to 'a' seen him. Why, his face was all a perfect

crisscross o' wrinkles. There wa'n't a spot where
you could put a pin down that there wa'n't a wrinkle;
and they used to say that he held on to every
cent that went through his fingers till he'd pinched
it into two. You couldn't say that his god was his
belly, for he hedn't none, no more'n an old file: folks
said that he'd starved himself till the moon'd shine
through him.

“Old Black Hoss was awfully grouty about Miry's
refusin' Tom Beacon, 'cause there was his houses and
lots o' land in Boston. A drefful worldly old critter
Black Hoss John was: he was like the rich fool in
the gospel. Wal, he's dead and gone now, poor critter,
and what good has it all done him? It's as the
Scriptur' says, `He heapeth up riches, and knoweth
not who shall gather them.'

“Miry hed a pretty hard row to hoe with old Black
Hoss John. She was up early and down late, and
kep' every thing a goin'. She made the cheese and
made the butter, and between spells she braided herself
handsome straw bunnets, and fixed up her
clothes; and somehow she worked it so when she
sold her butter and cheese that there was somethin'

for ribbins and flowers. You know the Scriptur'
says, `Can a maid forget her ornaments?' Wal,
Miry didn't. I 'member I used to lead the singin' in
them days, and Miry she used to sing counter, so we
sot putty near together in the singers' seats; and I
used to think Sunday mornin's when she come to
meetin' in her white dress and her red cheeks, and
her bunnet all tipped off with laylock, that 'twas for
all the world jest like sunshine to have her come
into the singers' seats. Them was the days that I
didn't improve my privileges, boys,” said Sam, sighing
deeply. “There was times that ef I'd a spoke,
there's no knowin' what mightn't 'a' happened, 'cause,
you see, boys, I was better lookin' in them days than
I be now. Now you mind, boys, when you grow up,
ef you get to waitin' on a nice gal, and you're 'most
a mind to speak up to her, don't you go and put it
off, 'cause, ef you do, you may live to repent it.

“Wal, you see, from the time that Bill Elderkin
come and took the academy, I could see plain
enough that it was time for me to hang up my fiddle.
Bill he used to set in the singers' seats, too,
and he would have it that he sung tenor. He no

more sung tenor than a skunk-blackbird; but he
made b'lieve he did, jest to git next to Miry in the
singers' seats. They used to set there in the seats a
writin' backward and forward to each other till they
tore out all the leaves of the hymn-books, and the
singin'-books besides. Wal, I never thought that the
house o' the Lord was jest the place to be courtin'
in, and I used to get consid'able shocked at the way
things went on atween 'em. Why, they'd be a
writin' all sermon-time; and I've seen him a lookin'
at her all through the long prayer in a way that
wa'n't right, considerin' they was both professors of
religion. But then the fact was, old Black Hoss
John was to blame for it, 'cause he never let 'em
have no chance to hum. Ye see, old Black Hoss
he was sot agin Elderkin 'cause he was poor. You
see, his mother, the old Widdah Elderkin, she was
jest about the poorest, peakedest old body over to
Sherburne, and went out to days' works; and Bill
Elderkin he was all for books and larnin', and old
Black Hoss John he thought it was just shiftlessness:
but Miry she thought he was a genius; and she got
it sot in her mind that he was goin' to be President
o' the United States, or some sich.

“Wal, old Black Hoss he wa'n't none too polite
to Miry's beaux in gineral, but when Elderkin used
to come to see her he was snarlier than a saw: he
hadn't a good word for him noways; and he'd rake
up the fire right before his face and eyes, and rattle
about fastenin' up the windows, and tramp up to
bed, and call down the chamber-stairs to Miry to go
to bed, and was sort o' aggravatin' every way.

“Wal, ef folks wants to get a gal set on havin' a
man, that 'ere's the way to go to work. Miry had
a consid'able stiff will of her own; and, ef she didn't
care about Tom Beacon before, she hated him now;
and, if she liked Bill Elderkin before, she was clean
gone over to him now. And so she took to goin' to
the Wednesday-evenin' lecture, and the Friday-evenin'
prayer-meetin', and the singin'-school, jest as
regular as a clock, and so did he; and arterwards
they allers walked home the longest way. Fathers
may jest as well let their gals be courted in the
house, peaceable, 'cause, if they can't be courted
there, they'll find places where they can be: it's jest
human natur'.

“Wal, come fall, Elderkin he went to college up to

Brunswick; and then I used to see the letters as
regular up to the store every week, comin' in from
Brunswick, and old Black Hoss John he see 'em too,
and got a way of droppin' on 'em in his coat-pocket
when he come up to the store, and folks used to say
that the letters that went into his coat-pocket didn't
get to Miry. Anyhow, Miry she says to me one
day, says she, `Sam, you're up round the post-office
a good deal,' says she. `I wish, if you see any letters
for me, you'd jest bring 'em along.' I see right
into it, and I told her to be sure I would; and so I
used to have the carryin' of great thick letters every
week. Wal, I was waitin' on Hepsy along about
them times, and so Miry and I kind o' sympathized.
Hepsy was a pretty gal, and I thought it was all
best as 'twas; any way, I knew I couldn't get Miry,
and I could get Hepsy, and that made all the difference
in the world.

“Wal, that next winter old Black Hoss was took
down with rheumatism, and I tell you if Miry didn't
have a time on't! He wa'n't noways sweet-tempered
when he was well; but come to be crooked
up with the rheumatis' and kep' awake nights, it

seemed as if he was determined there shouldn't nobody
have no peace so long as he couldn't.

“He'd get Miry up and down with him night
after night a makin' her heat flannels and vinegar,
and then he'd jaw and scold so that she was eenymost
beat out. He wouldn't have nobody set up with
him, though there was offers made. No: he said
Miry was his daughter, and 'twas her bisness to
take care on him.

“Miry was clear worked down: folks kind o'
pitied her. She was a strong gal, but there's things
that wears out the strongest. The worst on't was, it
hung on so. Old Black Hoss had a most amazin'
sight o' constitution. He'd go all down to death's
door, and seem hardly to have the breath o' life in
him, and then up he'd come agin! These 'ere old
folks that nobody wants to have live allers hev such
a sight o' wear in 'em, they jest last and last; and
it really did seem as if he'd wear Miry out and get
her into the grave fust, for she got a cough with
bein' up so much in the cold, and grew thin as a
shadder. 'Member one time I went up there to
offer to watch jest in the spring o' the year, when

the laylocks was jest a buddin' out, and Miry she
come and talked with me over the fence; and the
poor gal she fairly broke down, and sobbed as if her
heart would break, a tellin' me her trouble.

“Wal, it reelly affected me more to have Miry
give up so than most gals, 'cause she'd allers held
her head up, and hed sich a sight o' grit and resolution;
but she told me all about it.

“It seems old Black Hoss he wa'n't content with
worryin' on her, and gettin' on her up nights, but he
kep' a hectorin' her about Bill Elderkin, and wantin'
on her to promise that she wouldn't hev Bill when
he was dead and gone; and Miry she wouldn't promise,
and then the old man said she shouldn't have a
cent from him if she didn't, and so they had it back
and forth. Everybody in town was sayin' what a
shame 'twas that he should sarve her so; for though
he hed other children, they was married and gone,
and there wa'n't none of them to do for him but
jest Miry.

“Wal, he hung on till jest as the pinys in the
front yard was beginnin' to blow out, and then he
began to feel he was a goin', and he sent for Parson

Lothrop to know what was to be done about his
soul.

“`Wal,' says Parson Lothrop, `you must settle
up all your worldly affairs; you must be in peace
and love with all mankind; and, if you've wronged
anybody, you must make it good to 'em.'

“Old Black Hoss he bounced right over in his
bed with his back to the minister.

“`The devil!' says he: `'twill take all I've
got.' And he never spoke another word, though
Parson Lothrop he prayed with him, and did what
he could for him.

“Wal, that night I sot up with him; and he
went off 'tween two and three in the mornin', and
I laid him out regular. Of all the racks o' bone I
ever see, I never see a human critter so poor as
he was. 'Twa'n't nothin' but his awful will kep'
his soul in his body so long, as it was.

“We had the funeral in the meetin'-house a Sunday;
and Parson Lothrop he preached a sarmon on
contentment on the text, `We brought nothin' into
the world, and it's sartin we can carry nothin' out;
and having food and raiment, let us be therewith

content.' Parson Lothrop he got round the subject
about as handsome as he could: he didn't say what
a skinflint old Black Hoss was, but he talked in a gin
eral way about the vanity o' worryin' an' scrapin'
to heap up riches. Ye see, Parson Lothrop he could
say it all putty easy, too, 'cause since he married a
rich wife he never hed no occasion to worry about
temporal matters. Folks allers preaches better on
the vanity o' riches when they's in tol'able easy
circumstances. Ye see, when folks is pestered and
worried to pay their bills, and don't know where
the next dollar's to come from, it's a great temptation
to be kind o' valooin' riches, and mebbe envyin'
those that's got 'em; whereas when one's accounts
all pays themselves, and the money comes
jest when its wanted regular, a body feels sort o'
composed like, and able to take the right view o'
things, like Parson Lothrop.

“Wal, arter sermon the relations all went over to
the old house to hear the will read; and, as I was kind
o' friend with the family, I jest slipped in along with
the rest.

“Squire Jones he had the will; and so when they all

got sot round all solemn, he broke the seals and unfolded
it, cracklin' it a good while afore he begun;
and it was so still you might a heard a pin drop when
he begun to read. Fust, there was the farm and
stock, he left to his son John Brown over in Sherburne.
Then there was the household stuff and all
them things, spoons and dishes, and beds and kiverlids,
and so on, to his da'ter Polly Blanchard. And
then, last of all, he says, he left to his da'ter Miry
the pitcher that was on the top o' the shelf in his bedroom
closet.

“That 'are was an old cracked pitcher that Miry allers
hed hated the sight of, and spring and fall she used
to beg her father to let her throw it away; but no,
he wouldn't let her touch it, and so it stood gatherin'
dust.

“Some on 'em run and handed it down; and it
seemed jest full o' scourin'-sand and nothin' else, and
they handed it to Miry.

“Wal, Miry she was wrathy then. She didn't so
much mind bein' left out in the will, 'cause she expected
that; but to have that 'are old pitcher poked at
her so sort o' scornful was more'n she could bear.

“She took it and gin it a throw across the room
with all her might; and it hit agin the wall and broke
into a thousand bits, when out rolled hundreds of
gold pieces; great gold eagles and guineas flew round
the kitchen jest as thick as dandelions in a meadow.
I tell you, she scrabbled them up pretty quick, and
we all helped her.

“Come to count 'em over, Miry had the best fortin
of the whole, as 'twas right and proper she
should. Miry she was a sensible gal, and she invested
her money well; and so, when Bill Elderkin
got through his law-studies, he found a wife that
could make a nice beginnin' with him. And that's
the way, you see, they came to be doin' as well as
they be.

“So, boys, you jest mind and remember and allers
see what there is in a providence afore you quarrel
with it, 'cause there's a good many things in this
world turns out like Mis' Elderkin's pitcher.”