The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-04-24

| ter Of her blue umbrella, which she SAID was 80
heavy it was worse than nothing Beans, radish-
es, raspberries, and currants, besides many other
things, were there in rich profusion, and Mrs.
| Troost said everything iourished for Mrs Hill,
while her garden was all choked up with weeds.
aAnd you have bees, too-don't they sting the
children, and give you great deal of trouble
Along in May, | guess it was, Troost Mrs.
Troost always called her husband sol bought a
hive, or rather he traded a calf for one-a nice,
likely calf, too it was-and they never did US one
| bit Of good "-and the unhappy woman sighed.
"They do say" said Mrs. Hill, sypathizingly,
" that bees won't work for some folks-in case
their king dies they are very likely to quarrel,
| and not do well--but we have never had any i'll
lack with ours; and we last year sold forty dol
lars worth of honey, besides having all we want
ed for our own use. Did yours die off, or what,
| Mrs TroostP
"Why,p said the ill.natured woman, "my old
est boy got stupg one day, and, being angry, up
set the hive, and never found it out for two or
three days and, sending Troost to put it up in
| its place. there was not bee to be found high or
| lown
| "You don't tell the obstinate little dogs-but
| they must be treated kindly, and have heard OF
their going off for less things"
| The basin was by this time filled with currants,
and the neighbors returned TO the house. Mrs.
| Hill, seating herself on the sill of the kitchen
door, began to prepare her fruit for tea, while
| Mrs Troost drew her chair near, saying, DID
| you ever hear about William McMicken's bees W
| Mrs. Hill had never heard. and expressed anx-
| iety to do So which resulted in the following
story;
His wife, you know, was she that was Sally
| May, and it's an old saying
| "To change the name, and not the letter
| You marry for worse, and not for better"
| Sally was dressy, extravagant girl-she had
| her bonnet done upo twice a year always, and
there was no end to her dresses and ribbons and
fine things Her mother INDUCED her in every
thing che used to say Sally deserved all she got
that she was worth her weight in gold.
She used to 60 everywhere Sally did There
was no big meeting that she was not at, and no
quilting that she didn't help to get up. All the
girls went to her for the fashions, for she was q
| good deal in town at her Aunt Hammers and al
ways brought out the new patterns
She used to have her mutton-leg" sleeves a
little bigger than anybody else, you remember,
and then she wore great stiffners in them-la,
me there was no end to her extravaganza
She had changeable silk, yellow and blue,
made with surplus front and when she wore
|
walk on, 80 some folks used to say but never
thought Sally was bit proud or lifted up and
if any body was SICK there was no better-hearted
creature than she and, then, she was always
good-nstured as the day was long, and would sing
| all the day at her work | remember, along be-
fore she was married, she used to sing one song a
great deal, beginning
"Rs Pve got a sweetheart with bright black eyes"
| And they said she meant William McMicken by
that, and that she might not get him after all
for good many thought they would never make
| a match, their dispositions were so contrary.
| William was of a dreadful quiet turn, and a
great home body; and as for being rich, he had
nothing to brag of, though he was high larnt, and
followed The riuer as clark sometimes.
Mrs. Hill had by this time prepared her cur.
rants, and Mrs. Troost paused from her story
while she filed the kettle, and attached the tow.
ell to the end of the well-sweep, where it waved
as signal to "Peter to come to supper.
1@Now, just move your chair leetle nearer the
kitchen door, if you please" said Mrs. Hill, AND
[ can make up my biscuit, and hear you, too"
Meantime, coming to the door with some bread
crumbs in her hand she began scattering then
on the ground, and calling bddy, biddy, biddy
cbicky, chicky, chicky--hearing which, a whole
flock of poultry was about her in a minute when
stopping down, she secured one of the latest
which an hour afterwards was broilcd for supper
"Dear me, how easily you do get along" said
Mrs. Troost.
| And it was some time before she could compose
herself sufficiently to take up the thread of her
story At length, however, she began with
we'll as was saying, nobody thought Mr.. Nc
they say he is not like himself any more. He
may get dozen wives, but he'll never get an
other Sally. A good wife she made him, for all
| she was such wild girl.
The old man May was opposed to the marriage
| and threatened to turn Sally, his own daughter,
| out of house and home but she was headstrong,
and would marry whom she pleased and so she
did, though she never got stitch OF new clothes,
| nor one thing to keep house with. No, not one
| single thing did her father give her when she
went away, but hive of bees. He was right
| down ugly, and called her Mrs. McMicken when
ever he spoke to her after she was married but
Sally didn't seem to mind it, and took just as good
| care of the bees as though they were worth a
thousand dollars Every day in winter she used
| to feed them-maple sugar IL she had it; and II
not. little Orleans in a saucer, or some old bro
ken dish.
But it happened one day that bee stung her
| on the hand-the right one, think 1t was-and
Sally said right away that it was bad sign; and
that very night she dreamed that she went out to
| feed her bees and piece Of black Grape was tied
on the hive She felt that it wasa token Of death,
and told her husband so, and she told me and
Mrs. Hanks No, won't be sure she told Mrs.
Hanks, but Mrs Hanks got to hear it some way
UWelln said Mrs. Hill, wiping the tears away
with her apron, 81 really didn't know till now
that poor Mrs McMicken was dead. -
90, she is not dead,n answered Mrs Troost,
but as we'll as she ever was, only she feels that
she is not long for this worldn The painful in
terest Of her story, however, had kept her from
work, 80 the afternoon passed without her having
accomplished much--she never could work when
she went visiting.
Meantime Mrs Hill had prepared delightful
supper, without seeming to give herself the least
| trouble Peter came precisely at the right
moment, and, as he drew pail Of water, removed
the towel from the well sweep easily and natur-
ally, thus saving his wife the trouble.
Troost would never have thought Of it-so said
his lady; and she finished with an an, well! as
though all her tribulations would be over before
long.
As she partook of the delicious honey, she was
| reminded Of her own upset hive, and the crisp
red radishes brought thoughts Of the weedy gar
den at home 80 that, the whole, her visit, she
said, made her perfectly wretched, and she should
have no heart for a week nor did the little bas-
ket Of extra nice fruit, which Mrs Hill present
| ed her as she WAS about to take leave, heghten
her spirits in the least. Her great heavy UNI
brella, she said, was burden enough for her.
"But Peter will take you In the carriage" in
sisted Mrs Hill
"No" said Mrs Troost as though charity
were offered her, ait will be more trouble to get
in and out than to walk and 30 she trudged
home, saying, some folks are born to be lucky"
| HAMILTON FIsH-We are enabled TO state, tsays
the Albany RsgiaerD upon the most reliable au-
thorty, that Governor Fish, since his election to
the Senate, has written letter, in which he says,
in substance, that he shall exert himself in that
post to give faithful and cordial support to the