News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1883-08-30

kind, saving nelghbor, knlts top on OF
another color of yarn; and if the feet
are gone, too, she knits new feet, and
they are as nice as a spick-span pair that
the child never had on. She is so inven-
tive; so rich in resources, SO ready to see
her way out of narrow places. | am
amused with her wholesome good sense.
One time Katie Beldon, she that was
| Kate Cameron before marriage, was
spending a month with us. Her babe
was not more than three or four months
old, and was restless nights and threw
up its milk, and took long crying spells,
and none of us knew what was the mat
ter. l knew Mercy, down at the Mill,
would have dozen cures, and I was glad
she did not happen in while Roy was
enjoying one of his periodical howls.
But one morning she came in bustling
with, "What is the all of that child, do
you suppose was out in the berry
patch picking my Thursday berries for
Jam, and says I to Miss, says I, M liss
| I'm going to run over and see what's
wrong Bless his heart, let his auntie take
him; so there now, they shan't 'buse my lit
tie lam, so they shan't now" and she sat
down, turned the wrong side of her
| apron, and laid him on it and began I'M
fastening his clothes. When his back
was bare, she rubbed down the spine,
finger on each side of the bone, two or
three times, at which he fiinched visibly.
81 thought so, Miss Beldon; your baby
| is iver-grown, said she, puckering her
| mouth.
'Ah ~ said the young mother, "what
does that mean o.
"WelI, I don't hardly know. I guess
it means that the liver has grown fast to
the backbone, and that it is too big for
the size of the baby. 1t is easy cured,
though; most all my babies had it.
Some folks make fun and don't believe
in it, but what one learns by experience
they know to be a fact. Now, will
tell you what would do right away for
the dear little sufferin' fellow, bless his
sweet heart" said she, in a cooing,
motherly manner.
Just here I caught Kate's eye, and
this was what my glance telegraphed to
her
''She is superstitious; don't laugh or
make fun of my good neighbor-please
don't"
"Well, would take everything off
the child and lay him on my lap on a
piece of a sheet or quilt, made by some
person who has been dead long enough
to have gone back to dust"
eyes" said Kate, attentively and po-
itely.
''And then I would put some clean,
sweet lard in the oldest tin-cup [ could
find, and melt it on a shovel of Goals out
in the yard, with your face turned to the
east, never saying a loud word to any
one. Have the lard ready melted before
you lay him on your lap"
yes, madam, said Kate, pretlilv.
"Then begin eud grease uiE little back ,
and ,tlns with downward rubbing every
time. MS head turned 70 the east without
fail. Finish mp Wit ~obbing over the
soles of his feet. Then wind veil or
small shawl around your head the way
women wore them, turban fashion, in
Bible days; wrap him in the old sheet
or quilt and carry him, feet first, to each
of the four corners of the room. Go
round the room seven times; then have
the table stand in the middle of the
room, and around the leg in the direction
of the east lift him, round and round for
seven times. Then grease him again,
wrap him up, nurse him, and let him go
to sleep, and he'll never have the liver.
grown any more.
Nv good neighbor how gladly would
have saved her from an expose of her
whims and superstitions, but Kate did
not laugh and l loved her for it. These
queer notions made her none the less a
good neighbor I never laughed at her.
When our good cider vinegar became
insipid and lost its acidity, she told me
that 1 should have been better
posted; that vinegar always died when
there was a death among the cOnnec-
tions, unless some one not related to the
family went and shook up the barrel and
made it change its mind.
| And when I said our onions were SO
strong, not sweet acd good as usual,
she remarked that it would teach me a
lesson, that she had told me not to SOW
the seed when the sign was in the lion !
1 OF 7 of
out on the porch rocking and mending
overalls, while she and her baby swung
in the hammock near by, under the
wide-spreading branches of the old elm.
"What pretty country place this is ~
said she; chow | would like to live here
if I could have the choosing of my own
neighbors. Ha, ha I'd have dear Grace
Greenwood live there in the shadow OF
those fine butternut trees Josephine
Scott, the beauty-loving artist, should
live on that fine grassy knoll this side of
the dense, leafy wall of native oaks
Clara Louise Kellogg, the sweet singer,
should abide among the larks and
thrushes and orioles in wee little cot
/
down there in that double house, Will
the fountain brook sparkling like silver
I'd have, I'd have-let me see-whc
would l have live there?"
"DOwn there In the Flint Mill ?" saiC
, ]. ''I'll tell you. You'd have the same
two blessed women that l have-Merc!
and Linda Flint-One of one kind anC
one of t'other kind. Most delightful wo
, men they are, too, though they don t writ
; stories or poems, nor do they lecture o
l give public readings or grand parties
nor do they paint pictures, but the,
r have missions they are gloriou
women"
"WeH, but wasn't it one of them tha
? told me that ghouIish way of curing N
: baby of a disease that never was an
= never will be :" and she caught hold {
a sweeping bough and the hammoc
7 ceased its swaying, while she stared III
. questioning way.
t "Just SO, said l, "but she Is none tn
s less good neighbor for that. That
j no fault. The superstitiOus notions
r her ancestors, who came from Salem
g Mass, long ago, still linger in the bloo'
1t takes a good while to get rid OF thes
o things. You know how it is. Th'
k brown mole on your neck dates bac
e more than one hundred and fifty years
l.