Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1884-03-29
" THEM WIGGINSES.'


EN-, and if you've looked anyways sharp
| If there's a christeniA', or weddin, or a
party, or a funeral, or any other doin's
where there's plenty to do, you'll find her
there. If there's sudden sick ness, or
twins teethin', or children with the whoop.
ing-cough, shes sure to be sent for.
"Time was when | didn't expect to fill
ap chinks for the old ftlks; when l
thought I'd have lace of nay own to fill
and to make bright for some one. But
when Abraham Littlefeld had that long
spell of sickness, and 1 saw, day by day,
the light fade out of his eyes and the
strength 90 from his arms, that thought
would be support to me along the way,
| made up my mind that the house we'd
been plsnnin' together would never be
built with hands, and it wasn't.
mot but what some OF tde other boys
after while, tried to make me think
Providence hadn't set me cut for an old
maid-a useless, lonesome life, some one
of 'em said to me. Well, | haven't found
time to be useless and as for lonesome
ness, except the empty spot in my heart,
there amt many wives and mothers has
had livelier times than me, nor more kisses
of children and psttin' with their soft lit.
tie hands, nor more soothin' of long hours
of pain, nor more looks of love out of
dyin' eyes. For you see there was a big
family of US and plenty of chinks to be
filled.
"Well, set out to tell you about the
time | went to John Eaoch Piummer's
His wife, Phebe Maria Plummer, was a
Todd-second cousin to me by tae moth.
er's side. Phebe Maria wrote me the
mournfulast letter you ever sect made
my heart fairly ache to read it telliu' how
they'd lost their two little children, with
the canker rash, and begin I'd 90 and
stop with them spell. OF course hadn't
the heart to say no, though Susanna (she's
my oldest brother, Els wife-her maiden
name was Snelbarker) said she didn't know
how they could spare me, for the Oldest
boy hadn't got about after breaking his
leg, climin' a tree after young birds
though I'd told him twas a sin and a
shame, and there'd be juagmen on him
and the applebutter wasn't made, and the
fall sewing hardly touched, and Z i keepin
more cows than common that year. But
we hurried things up, and at last | got
away day or two before Thsnksgivin', ,
takin' lot OF yarn to knit up for the chill
dren, for | allowed there couldn't be much
knittin to do where l was goin', now that
the little feet there had been put to rest
4" l found Phebe Maria feelin' forlorn
enough poor thing. l forgot to tell you
that when the lie ones died she'd took
it so hard that she couldn'r stand it to stay
on the old place any longer, so they just
sold out and moved into new neighbor-
hood. A lonesomer place you never see,
though John Eaoch had bought as pretty
a farm as you'd find anywheres. There
want much to do, for he didn't board his
hired hands, so there was only them two
and me, and if ever a house felt like
| funeral all the time, that house did l sat
and knit and knit till | thought could
| have flown out of my skin, aud would
have given anything just to hear, "Auntie,
please give me a piece, or Auntie, I've
torn my coat ) or to have to say to some
ons Wipe your feet, child; or, Don't
you touch them green currants; or,
Sinh h-h-don't wake tne baby, l hadn't
been, suppose, for twenty years, to a
house where there wa INT plenty of children,
and as l sat there in the quiet, l thought
to myself Whatever would have be.
come of this world, anyhow, if the good
Lord had eeen fit to make US already
growed =
"The frat evenin' I was there, John
Enoch looked up quick from the paper he
was readin', and says he
"Get the lantern, Phebe Maria Hurryr'
"She got it and follered him out l
went out after her, and heard him havin'
a racketin' time out in the hen roost.
"'What on airth's the matter ? says I.
6 { h.
along a spell ago, afore bought this farm,
and squatted down there in the boiler
poor land that nobody thinks worth cult
vatin'. Folks do say ole Hicks sold out
cause they pestered his life out, and |
shouldn't wonder if twas so. There ain t
thing them boys won't steal that they
can lay hands on, and the old man no bet
ter. When we first come, the neighbors
told me never to let 'em set foot on the
place or I'd regret it, and l wouldn't even
let them have the apples that was rottin on
the ground, nor the milk that was sourin'
in the cellar But it want no sort use to
try to keep 'em out. They'd get into the
orchard and pick the best apples and break
down the branches OF the trees
"Humph ! says l. If you'd a give
EN- the windfalls, as any Christian d ought
l don't believe they'd a done it,
SO 1 won't let 'em have chance il l
can help it, for they're up to some devil
ment ali the time. P!l give a clean $40
to anybody Il make em let me alone,
" Amy women among EN- ? says l.
"' Yes, there's a woman and two or
three children, and l guess they have
pretty hard work Twin, sometimes
"'Ain't been to see 'em, Phebe Marin 2
"' No, says she. You know | can't
bear to 90 where there's children She
gave little sob, and l couldn't blame her,
but somehow couldn't get it off my mind
about the children Twin in that tumble
down old shell, that might be wantin' for
victuals in this land of plenty.
1.-THE next day was day before Thanks
giviu', but it didn't seem Ike it no more'n
lights like darkness Me and Phebe
Maria, we baked some pies and cakes and
things, just cause neither OF US would have
felt Cnristian.like if we hadn't, and on
Thanksgivin' mornin' l stuffed a rousin'
fine turkey and put it in the oven but no.
body mad any heart for anything when
there wa INT a single child wstcbin' round
to stick its little fingers into things, or to
peep into the pantry, or to coax for a
doughuut and there want load of folks
expected to dinner.
lone of John Euochs horses had fell
lame, so we couldn't get to church, and
the mornin' seemed week long. After
dinner left Phebe Maria to clear away
things, and l put on my sunbonnet and
went out. The season was late-there was
no snow, and though there'd been a sharp
frost over night, the sun was shinin, and
it was warmin' up nicely. Somehow my
feet seemed to turn towards the Virgins
house. There was slouchy lookin' man
settin' on log in the yard, and two boys,
small, but lookin' as if they'd be equal to
anytody's hen-roost or orchard, l heard a
wailin' sound, like baby cryin'. l knocked,
but guess they didn't hear anything but
the wall, and then l went in.
And if ever see scene that looked
like poverty, seen it then. There want
no sort of comforts in the room. There
was green wood fire that sized and
smoked as if all it could do was to tell you
how chilly twas with the broken windows