The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1888-02-08
THE DONATION PARTY.
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.

Arc you AL TlBuJ, mhtliudt bdlu WI.
Perkins, casting a final, comprehensive
glance around him, as he put one foot on
the wagon.step and gathered up the reins
into his left hand
"I-yes, believe so" answered his
wife.
''Is the big loaf of election cake inf"
"Yes."
"And the stone jug of maple molasses 2"
''lt's right here"
"And the ten yards o. rag-carpet, and
the pair O. brackets, and the cherry vase,
packed in tissue-paper shavingsp
"Yes, l b'lieve we hain't forgotten
nothin'," asscnted Mrs Perkins, craning
her neck this way and that, to make as.
surance doubly sure.
"Wal, then, that settles matters" said
the farmer, briskly adjusting himself in
his seat. Attention, company! For
ward - marchm
But as the clumsy old farm wagon
numbered slowly on through dased
fields and meadows crimsoned with nod
ding grasses, he looked up in a quaint,
one-sided manner at his wife's clouded
face.
''What on airths the matter MatildaI"
said he. 81 s'posed you was dead set
on goin' to this ere Donation Party
this AFTERNOON.
81 did set consid'able store by it,
said Mrs. Perkins, pumping heavy sigh
out Of some unseen deeps in her internal
economy; "'but somehow | feel sort of
uneasy about leavin' Chatty in charge of
things at home"
Asahel Perkins whistled.
"Ain't she woman growed upl"
said he.
% s'pose So"
"Get QUIT" said the old sarmer.
"One would suppose she was baby"
! g But she amt used to ben' left
alone
"Its good time to sort o'begin, then,
Amt itl" chuckled the old man.
a Pm afeard she'll let the dried peach
sass burn
"No great harm ef she does"
And there's the calf TO be fed, and
the Shanghai chickens to be looked arter,
and the short cake to be baked and"
"Well, | calkilate Chatty's equal to
| the OCCASION" nodded Mr.. Perkins.
Anyhow, we shan't never know, eff we
don't take some way of findin' out.
Come, mother, don't fret. do b'lieve,
ef you was on the road to heaven, you'd
/ want to turn back to see ef the clothes
pins was all a-layin' with theil heads the
right way, and the chickens had gone to
roost all square an even on the proper
/ perch.
Asahc', you hadn't oughter speak
light o. sacred things" reproachful y
murmured Mrs. Perkins.
Well, mother, / WON'T acquiesed
Mr.. Perkins, eff you'll leave off thinkin'
you know more than Providence does,
eh2'
so the old couple kept on toward the
Cattield Parsonage, where there was, on
that particular day, one of those great
local upheavals commonly known as a
"Donation iarty," and where four bush
els of doughnuts, thirteen bed d-quiltS,
nine macrame tides, and nineteen bou.
quets of impossible paper roses, had al
ready arrived in bewildering succession.
II do hope, " sighed the Rev. Eli Par
sons, "that Providence II put it into the
head of some one to send me fall o :er.
coat, for mines clear in rags. Squire
Pepper, now-he's fairly well off in this
worlds goods-it's just like him to
think of such thingw
While Mrs. Parsons, a withered little
old woman, with clusters of false curls
on each side of her face, and an immortal
butterfly always lowering over the black
lace borders Of her cap, secretly hoped
that Mrs Goldwood, who had more
money than she knew what to do with,
might be spiritually moved TO present
her with much needed black silk gown.
II know it amt consistent to think toe
much of earthly adornments,' sighed
poor little Mrs. Parsons; 'but l never
had a silk gown, and it does seem as if il
would be comforting to own one before
died"
But our hopes are frequently doomed
to be blighted.
Squire Pepper brought a damaged
photograph album, from the unstable
shell in his store, and Mrs. Goldwood
smilingly presented to her pastors wife q
hideous basket of wax fruit, which had
stood on her own back parlor table unit
she was tired of the sight of it.
Mrs. Parsons could have burst out cry
ing.
The stuffy little parlor filled fast Will
the parishiOners. The kitchen was wei
packed with solid matrons and brisk
maidens, arranging the salt shoulders Of
bacon, the Juicy hams, the cold rOas
fowls, and loaves of homemade cake
the pounds of coffee, in brown pape
cerements, the packages of white beans
and the glasses of currant jelly, which
were one by one brought in.
The parlor tables groaned under book
markers, embroidered tides, home kni
laces, volumes of poems, and such eni
nently useful contributions
Mr.. Parsons hustled to and fro
wondering how on earth, even with al
the china and glass she had borrowed
she should manage to provide for such
concourse of guests.
Mr.. Parsons smiled feebly at the well
worn jokes of his people, and wondere'
how many of this part culaT type 0
"Donation Party" it would take to sent
him 10 the poorhouse.
"Didn't you bring your city nieeei
old Miss Tackaberry asked Of Mrs. Per
kius, who, surrounded by group of con
genial friends sat on the sofa in the par
SOn's study, radiant as the full moon.