Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1868-1875, 1873-11-09
/" HOW?"
The First and Last Quarrel
What Became of Mary Ann and tn
HnnHnxu land

What Became of Mary Ann and the
Meadow Land.
Perhaps l am a little too hasty, lit
tie too ready to light up at a minutes
notice; but there are some words that
seem to me to carry an especial grain
of gun powder in them: and the above
is one o. the sort. To have a person,
after you have been through long ex-
PLANTATION, put his fingers to his mental
ears and query you thus, or, worse
still, "How?" is too exasperating for
human nature to bear. But that is
what John Stringer did to me, bending
his head little nearer, and speaking
in an absent, aggravating manner that
tantalized me beyond words.
You see, John Stringer and l were
engaged; we'd been engaged for long
time, and perhaps had got to be little
too matter o course to each other.
We were sitting there over the fire,
after the old folks had gone to bed, and
l fell to telling him about Sophie Mills
wedding-her white silk dress, her
bride-cake, and her bridesmaids frosted
all over to match it, and l ended this
way:
But it don't make any difference,
John, to people that love each other;
all that's o no more account than last
years snow drift They could be mar
ried in calico and homespun, with their
feet on a rag carpet like this, and love
each other just as well.
How" said John absently. He was
watching the Goals flicker up and die
out again, and picking up stray chip
now and then to fling on the embers-
a fashion he had when he was think
ing.
Now l had the headache all day, and
/ guess | was rather more tindery than
usual, though didn't think SO then;
but when John bent his great broad
shoulders over, as if he hadn't heard a
word l said, and, in fact, had something
better to occupy his mind, I just fired
up, first, and then the blaze died down
into sulks, and when we parted that
night John and l had our first and last
quarrel.
Ny heart did not misgive me that
when l saw Johns great tall figure 60
ing out the door, it was the last time
he'd lift the latch for many year; but
so it was.
You see, held my head pretty high
in those days, and wouldn't show that
l was bit cut up about it, so l paired
off with Mrs. Plumbers Jesse, likely,
spruce young fellow enough, but no
more to be compared with John than a
cockleshen is to brigantine.
Oh, well, mother sighed, and tried
right hard to bring us together again,
but it wasn't to be.
John was a powerful, muscular man,
and l used to see him go up the road
many time when l was out in the shed
milking, and, peeping out at him
through the chinks, [ thought his
broad shoulders stopped more than
ever, and his figure was growing more
stalky like Such an awkward fellow
as John was! | came near rushing out
on him once, and my sun-bonnet and
with my sleeves rolled up, and finging
my arms right around his neck, but
John liked to see folks tidy, and never
did it.
Jesse Plumber was the beau O the
village-dapper, neat, and as dainty as
you please; and all the girls thought l
had come to my senses when | ousted
'em O. Jess. And by-and-by it was Jess
that came sparkling o nights, and sat
O winter evenings over the embers, and
he was so soft-spoken and pleasant that
even mother forgot her vexation. (She
always set store by John, mother did J
Well, in the spring we were married,
Jess and NE, and l rad string O.
pearls and real silk bridal dress, and
l felt kind o lifted when the girls
crowded round me and hoped I'd be
happy. 1 hoped so too; l wasn't sure
of it.
Remembering the days that came
after, l can't recall one hard word |
ever heard from Jess. We weren't
near enough to each other to quarrel;
we Just laid apart like two odd volumes;
there wasn't any fire 'twixt us, nor any
thing 'twixt us, either love or laughing
whereas John and l had always been
bubbling over one way and another.
worked hard, for my silk dress and
necklace were all l had of riches; and /
cut up my gown one day to make a
cloak for the baby. You see, l couldn't
give up my pride, and was just as high
spirited as ever. But our farm didn t
prosper, and Jess didn't prosper;
and Mrs. Plumber came to live
with us, to look after things, she
said; and she got to plying him every
now and then for marrying a poor wife,
and-oh, well, what's the use O. talking
sometimes l couldn't help wishing
John Stringer's strong shoulders were
at the wheel, when l was working my
self to death morning and night fol-
nothing.
Then, when the baby grew bigger, l
took to teaching an A B G class, as
used to before l was married; but what
little l knew had run wild since then,
and couldn't keep the boys straight
somehow; and the girls didn't care
about samplers, for the sewing machine
| had ridden right over everything.
Then Jesse fell Ill o the fever, and with
all the Tuning and fretting and nursing
of his mother, and with all my watch
ing day and night, somehow he slipped
off between us. And found myself a
widow, with the ill-fared, wasted farm
on my hands, and mother Plumme1
drizzling and Numbering after Jess in
way to break my heart. But / kept
my spirit up, and advertised half the
place for sale at the courthouse; for il
could sell it we should skin through
somehow on an acre or two, l thought
Well, who do you suppose came ovel
one sunny afternoon as l was sanding
in the kitchen? Who, to be sure, but
John Stringer, large as life-a little
| Gray maYhap. and little more ANGULAR