The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1881-03-17
AN OLD APPLE WOMAN.


AN OLD APPLE WOMAN.
Inever think of the geography of Boston
without being reminded of y village to which
I was once directed by planter whom l
met by the roadside in the back woods OF
Georgia. 'Go street on" said he, It'll
you come to shingled house, a black smith
shop and a tobacco barn, standing right
round a puddle of water-thet's the village"
Boston, to be sure, is something more than
ashingled house, a black smith shop and a
tobacco barn; it is, in fact, a town several
times larger than the Georgia village; but,
for all that, it stands fright round" pud-
dle-I beg pardon, pool-of water. This
pool is known in history as the Frog Pond,
and it probably derived it's name from
family of frogs who once had there sum-
mer residence; but why it retains that name
is difficult to conjecture, since all the Bos-
ton croakers now spend their summers at
Newport or Nahant, and their winters IN
much drier, if not more wholesome quar-
ters.
But a pool of wit has already been shed
on this pool of water, and it is not my in
tention to swell small pond into an ocean.
Adler pens than mine have tried to do that.
So shall content myself with emptying my
inkstand upon little woman who, in rain
or shine, week in and week out, for many
long year, kept an apple-stand near the
margin of that famous puddle Of water:
She was little, and she was old, and do
think about as ugly as any woman who has
lived since the birth of Eve-that first of
her country, and so, in spite Of her ugliness,
fee, bound to give her half dozen pag-
es of general history"
At first she served it by vending green
apples and striped sticks Of stomach-ache to
the hungry lawyers and ragged urchins who
congregate about Court Square; and at the
same time was sole mistress of a peripate-
tic shop--a huge willow basket, going about
on two legs and open at the top, except in
rainy weather, when it was rooted in by a
big cotton umbrella.
She was a meagre anatomy, with a sharp
nose. sunken chin, and a Ratchet face,
covered all over by a shriyeled skin of the
precise complexion of peeled potato. In
winter she wore faded hood, blanket
shawl, and u woollen gown--short enough
to showa pair of corrugated stockings, far
whittier than the snow in the streets of Bos-
ton In summer she was clad in dimity
cap, calico frock, and cotton bandana;
pinned closely over her bosom; but, sum-
mer or winter, she was always elongated by
a pair Of stout brogans, with high heels
and thick soles-thick enough, one would
say, to be imprevious to all the moisture
that human feet are heir to. But they were
not imprevious to the rheumatism. That,
one day, got into the legs of the old wo-
mans apple basket, and forced her to shut
up her peripatetic shop, and to open one of
less rowing character.
Then she pitched her tent upon the Com
mon-or, more literally, she planted there
three legged stool, the big umbrella, and
a rough pine table, heaped high with rus
sets, pippins, and gilly-fowers, which she
was ready to dispense to all corners, at the
rate of one cent for one, and half a dime
for half dozen-so several paper placs rds,
golden pippins, told all and singular who
frequented the Common.
Business here throve with the old wo-
men; for, in pleasant weather, the Com
mon is'a great resort for young couples,
who bill and COO under the spreading elms
or on the iron-clad benches and billing
and cooling is decided sharpener Of the
appetite, as is proved by the lamentable
case of the young maiden who died Of love
and green apples.
There is no telling the quantity of stom-
ach-ache and cholera morbus that the old
woman daily dispensed to hungry lovers
but it must have been large, since it was
often noticed that however high her table
was heaped in the morning it was always
low down at night, when, with her basket
on her arm, she ambled homeward.
One evening a;gentleman passing that way
just at dark found the table almost I'M
touched, and the old woman in great deal
of trouble. It had rained all day, and few
lovers had come upon the Common, so with
apples and clothes weeping in sympathy
with her sorrow, she sat there with no one
to help her home with her basket.
1t is said that evil loves the dark; but it
is quite as true that many good things avoid
the daylight. Others eyes are then open,
and the fear Of what "men may say often
sends us sneaking by on the other side,
like the Priest andthe Levite in the parable.
But now it was dark; so the gentleman
shouldered the apple basket and went home
with the old woman. She lived in a small
room, on the top floor of an old rickety
house at the north end; and as he went up
the stairs the gentleman was in mortal fear
of their tumbling down, and spilling both
him and the apples At last, however, he
reached the room, and setting down the
basket, sat himself down to rest his tired
legs and shoulders. It was narrow, mean
apartment, and SO low that, when he stood
upright, his head almost hit the ceiling.
Two young children, boy and girl, who
were spreading the table for the evening
meal, and thin, emaciated women, with
sunken eyes and pallid features, who was
lying on bed in corner were it's occupants
The floor was bare, the furniture plain and
poor, and everything indicated that it's ten
ants lived on the verge Of starvation; but
on all their faces was cheerful look that
showed that somehow they had imbibed Of
that divine elixir that gives to the most
wretched comfort and; contentment. Gu
rious to get at the secret of their happiness,
the stranger asked the old woman about her
history. Twenty years before, she said, her