Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1880-10-14
NO. 243.
Gales ano Sktttbes.
BErSEv REMINGr0N'S QUILTING.

L
Remington farm house stood wide open
70 the morning sun. Motherly lilacs
looked cheerfully in at the open windows,
and armies of apple blossoms sent in the
compliments of the season on the freshest
breath of the day.
From the farm yard came the familiar
sound Of milking. mingled with an occa-
sional $50. Mollyr and the wild excite
ment of the feathered tribe. running, fly
ing and gathering. in answer to the shrill
call for the morning meal.
Within the farm house kitchen the "wo-
men folks" were all astir and bustling
with festive preparations.
The woman element in the Remington
household was the masterful one. There
lived no one for miles around who did not
know the widow Remington. She was
woman guiltless of poetry or ideality. but
so rounded and compacted of thrift. FORE
handedness and faculty. that no one was
more noted and quoted, or commanded
more esteem than she.
When Bctsey. her only daughter. was
"turned of three" she was started on the
regular course OF instruction at the "dees-
trict'' school hard by. said course includ-
ing sewing. knitting. the marking of sam
piers. and the making of work pockets.
At five years old, and when Miss Sally
Nash, the teacher. had been twice invited
To tea in order that the matter should he
fully considered ii was duly decided that
Betsov should begin bedquilt, and that
the butterfly fashion, was, on the whole
the pattern best adapted TO her youth and
her mothers materials. No matter that
to little Betsey it was at first. and long
continued To he, a most incomprehcnsiblc
affair. She carefully overhanded her
basted patchwork an hour each summer
day
Each Autumn it was packed in the big
red "chist." containing many another
family treasure, while each returning
spring saw it reproduced. counted over.
measured and calculated; and gradually
another summers patient labor was added
thereunto. until finally it was pronounced
by Miss Sally herself. to be completed
Pretty Betsey Remington was now eigh-
teen and mistress Of her needle. rs a squad
of comiorters and quilts gathered in her
closet, "a the result of her handiwork,
could attest.
However. this baby attempt hsil lain in
blocks, as she had left it. and had been
shown to the Remington relations far and
wide as ''our Betsey's fust work" Now
it had been put together, and tomorrow
was to be quilted, and in the preparation
of the festal supper that would follow, the
household were earnestly engaged
To one unfamiliar with the thrifty sim
plicy and the toothsome dishes of the old
en- time. it is impossible to decribe the
results of those early morning hours. or
the odors peculiar TO them that rose up
and made sweet SAVIOR before the makers
Of the feast The oven door had been set
wide, and the sheet of flame that went
streaming up its sooty flue contrasted
strongly with the subdued blaze of the old
fashioned fireplace.
Mother Remington, in short gown and
stuffed petticoat, with sleeves tucked well
above the elbow, stood on the broad stone
hearth, stirring the crisp potatoes in the
long handled frying pan, and slowly turn
ing the rotary gridiron on which steak
was broiing over the Goals
''Come, Jim, whip up yer forred
| horses" said she to her son. who at that
moment came in with a hat full Of eggs
and two wet and discouraged little duck
lings in an old tin pail knocking each
other down lin their trembling efforts to
stand on their feet.
Come, come, we've all been to break
fast"
| ''I'm on hand, mother, like basket Of
chips" said the boy. setting down his
load and taking a hasty but severe scrub
from the tin basin at the back door. "A
feller's got to take bite as he can get 1t,
when the wimen folks want anything in
this house"
The food being now securely harvested
on dish and platter was set before him
smoking hot After hearty meal the
boy arose from the table and slowly wip-
ing his mouth on his jacket-sieeve, and
leaning on the back of his chair. watched
his mother. who swept with heavy tread
from buttery TO store room. gathering
variety OF things on one end OF the kitch-
an table, which she was packing into
hamper.
run, Jim. and bring Inc that piece o.
fresh pork in the little tin pail IN the well
and haul up the butter box quicker
Mother, who's goin' to git all them
things any how" said Jim, as returning
he placed the dripping pail and box be-
fore her on the table.
well, give ear now for | hadn't no
time TO talk twice"
stop to old Miss Buckley's and give
her this roll o. butter. and tell her it's the
fust real out and out grass churnin' I've
had this spring; then go on to widder
Jones's and leave this batch o. sparrow
grass and this piece O. roast and that rhu-
bub pie; and git away for conscience sake
afore she has time to think where 1t come
from. I'd ruther be whipt than to hear
her talk it all over to the Dorcas or the
prayer meetin' with the hull kit and boo
die on 'em hearin' on her. low the
widder Jones is good neighbor, but she
does hang on like nor easter, and her
tongue runs like a mill clack, Come.
now. Jim, make tracks"
Jim shook the hay seed from his hat.
grasped the hamper, and started for the
wagon house. but was not destined to set
forth so easily.
"Jim-Jim Remin 'ton-where be your
ears ?''
Jim was tucking a well-worn buffalo
over his apple load. and, without looking
up. shouted: They're hitched on ali
right. mother. Go ahead.'
There's lot o. errants | tended to
send by yer. Go round by Jim Bushley's
and tell him he can hoop my barrels any
day and bring me up six more bee hives ;
and ask Joe Slater to come after the fast