Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1890-08-28
A PATCHWORK QUILT.

house, amidst your counterpanes and
comfortables which you looked at FIVE
minutes before buying, perhaps, one,
of those old-fashioned patchwork
quilts madeof the finest pieces, srrang.
ed in the most intricate patterns, over
which at least one pair of eyes were
strained for days and weeks before
quilting time came, and all those puff
fy little diamonds we're marked out,
amidst chat and laughter, by half-a-
dozen ladies? Did you ever in child
hood, sit upon The bed and hear the
history of the various pieces Of chintz?
That's piece of your first colored
dress; that had when was a girl;
that was your grandmother's morning
gown; this is piece Miss s. gave
me. / have heard such history
many q time, and little pictures used
to pass beofre my eyes at the words.
Icould see just how grandma looked
IN the morning gown. could see
myself baby, taking toddling steps
in the blue frock. 1t seemed so funny
TO have been a baby-when was an
important person Of five years. 1t
doesn't seem half so funny now, for l
have begun to doubt whether l shall
ever be anything else, and to know
just how many big babies there are in
this world.
Dear old patchwork quiltsl We've
lost something in losing them, I think,
and probably Mrs. Mumford thought
so, too, for whenever any Of her child,
rem were found sitting with those idle
hands, for which Doctor Watts de.
clsres that Satan always finds some
mischief, she invariably remarked:
"You better get your patchwork"
They always obeyed, those three lit
tie girls, Lucy, Ruth and Olive, and
there were piles of quilts in the up
stairs rooms where spare bedding was
stored--quilts Of many colors, quilts
of only two, quilts with large, square
blocks, and quilts with intricate pat
terms, like Chinese puzzle, quilts
that had been made by people in their
nineties, and quilts that had been
made by people who could not yet say:
q am nine years DID, Piecing a
quilt was the first work and the last
of the members of the Mumford fami.
ly. I think an ancestor made some
patches on board of the Mayfower.
At least it was said so.
When young person married, a
dowry of quilts had always been pro-
vided-always would be while Mrs
Mumford lived. When Olive was fif-
teen, she had been told that the white
and Turkey red quilt which her great
grandmother had made was to be
among her share, as the eldest daugh-
ter of the house. She laughed then,
and said:
4 shall always stay at home with
you, mamma. shall be the old
maid daughter
A year afterwards she did not think
this, whatever she might have said,
for the year had made her feel that
she was no longer child, and she had
met Harry Martin, who put an engage.
ment on Olives finger, and, if all went
well, her seventeenth birthday would
find her matron.
Nothing like seeing your children
settled before you are broken down
yourself said the mother, and there
upon began to teach Olive the higher
mysteries of pastry. Plain cooking,
every girl of that family quite under
stood.
A lover always takes great interest
in his lady's handiwork.. Harry re-
garded all the little pieces of sewing
which passed through Olives hands
with immense admiration, and the
homely patchwork was just as fine in
his eyes as anything else; and there
was often much talk about the pieces,
and, once or twice, he had cut them
out, after the cardboard patterns, Low.
ing to meddle with anything that she
was busy with, in old true lovers fash.
ion.
One evening, when he went in, he
found the girl looking, as an artist
might look at a rare old master, at a
long breadth Of old fashioned, flower
ing chintz.
Mother has just given me this,
Harry she said. 1T is like a gown
of old aunt Hepsiba's. 1t shimmers
like silk, and see how fine it is. But
fancy wearing such pattern. Look!
butterfly on bough, and rose and
a butterfly on bough again, and then
another rose, like wall paper. The
difficulty will be, said Olive, pausing
to consider, how to get the pattern
into patch without spelling it.
I'll help you,' said Harry; and to
work he went, and for pleasant hour
or two he kept cutting patches, A
bud and butterfly on one, rose on
the other, bud and butterfly, and rose
again.
'And he has not spoiled one, man.
ma, said Olive. in tone of pride. I'm
sure I should have cut dozen butter.
flies heads off, if had tried.
O. thn ynyno thinoe 1aurhad ouar