The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1884-09-05
AUNT ABBY's LITTLE ROMANCE.


In hunting up my friends at Wells
march, | had occasion to inquire my
way OF an old woman digging potatoes
in a weedy little patch by the roadside.
She looked up as l spoke, and leaned
on her hoe, tall and gaunt and some
what grim, but with a singularly lucid
and kindly expression in her large gray
eyes. She was coarsely clad her thin,
gray hair, cut short, was covered by a
man S straw hat, and she had the mus
cular brown hands of o man. Yet,
when she paused in her potato digging
to answer my questions, it was with an
air of quiet intelligence and simple
grace of utterance hardly to have been
expected from one OF her sex engaged
in so coarse an occupation.
Having spoken, She stopped to pick
up and put into peck basket the pota-
toes her hoe had uncovered, and rode
on, but could not forbear looking back
and watching her as she rose up with
her light burden and walked away,
across the weedy patch, towards the
door of q lonely little house near by.
The sun had gone down, heavy shadows
fell across the fields from wooded hills
beyond, the night crickets had struck
up their melancholy notes, and in the
aspect of the woman entering her soil
tary door, at that hour, there was
something so sad that it made my heart
ache.
the picture haunted me. and on
reaching my friends house spoke of
it. 81 was directed / said, ssby the
loneliest old creature, working in the
loneliest potato-patch, and living in
the loneliest little old house | ever
sawr'
"Ah," said my host, with look of
interest, ''you have seen Aunt Abby!
She is quite an extraordinary charac-
ter; and, little as you would think it, to
see her digging potatoes for to-mor-
rows breakfast, she is a real heroine
the heroine of a genuine romance
He told me something of her story,
which excited still further my curiosity
and sympathy, and | expressed a desire
to make her acquaintance. That could
be easily managed, he said; and, driy-
ing me about the country the next day,
he took me to her house.
We found her trimming a bed of old
fashioned flowers at her door; and as
he drew up to the gate and spoke to
her she came towards us with sprig
of mignonette in her coarse brown hand.
AUNT Abby" said my companion,
''hefe's a friend of mine want YOU to
know And he proceeded to introduce
me in a way which the most modest
authors of books get accustomed to and
learn to endure without blushing.
u have heard OF you," she said, Civ
ing my hand a cordial grasp, and look
ing into my eyes with an earnest, al
most ardent, expression. Come in,
won't youP It's a long time" turning
to my friend-'since you have made
me q call. y
He excused himself, but said that I
could 90 in if chose, and wait till he
returned for me, after transactino lit
lie business which he had in view. The
arrangements suited me admirably. and
IS she repeated her invitation alighted
md entered the gate.
Il hear that you live quite alone
lere, | remarked as she preceded me
along the narrow grassy path towards
he door.
Alone? Dear me. nor' she replied.
Sheertully, turning to face me in the
midst of her little flower garden.
Here are some of my companions, I"
md she pointed out the pinks and
SansieS and phlox and hollyhocks,
which grew in an almost wild state,
)long with fennel and caraway and
age, in the tangled but well-weeded
iedS. "But have other and better
companions than these. With flowers
ind sunshine and grass and trees and
looks, and ones own thoughts, how can
body be alonepn
81 quoted Emerson's saving: eff a
aan would be alone, let him look at the
tars."
why bless the good man!'' she said.
when ! look at the stars am some
imeS least alone! It seems as if thew
lrought the hosts of Heaven near to me.
SUIT come in, come inn
She ushered me into very plain but
eat little sitting-room, with q rag car
yet probably OF her own braiding) on
he floor, a few books on hanging
helves, and on the walls some cheap
rlnts which l fear would have made
he apostle OF modern culture smile.
Here are more of my companions,
nd some Of the BEST" She said, hand
az me scrap-book from the little
ide-table, after giving me seat in her
ushioned armchair I" Some of them
iou know" she added, with smile
which lighted up her brown features
With beaut full benignitv.
1t could have badly been by accident
bat she let the pages fall open in my