The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1890-07-31
A Patchwork Quilt.
BY MARY KYLE DALLAS,

Have you anywhere about your house,
amidst your counterpaucs and comfort
ables which you looked at five minutes
before buying, perhaps, one of those old
fashioned patchwork quilts made of the
tiniest pieces, arranged in the most in
tricate patterns, over which at least one
pair of eyes were strained for days and
weeks before quilting time came, and all
those puffy little diamonds were marked
out, amidst chat and laughter, by half-a-
dozen ladiesl Did you ever, in child
hood, sit upon the bed and hear the his
tory of the various pieces of chintz2
That's q piece of your first colored
dress; that / had when I was a girl {;
that was your grandmo,her's morning
gown; that is q piece Miss s. gave
me. I have heard such history many
a time, and little pictures used to pass
before my eyes with the words. could
see just how grandma looked in the morn
ing-gown. l could see myself baby,
taking toddling steps in the blue frock. 1t
seemed so funny to have been baby
when was an important person of five
years. 1t doesn't seem half so funny now,
for I have begun to doubt whether shall
ever be anything else, and to know just
how many big babies there arc in this
world.
Dear old patchwork quilts? We've lost
something in losing them, think, and
probably Mrs. Mumford thought so, too,
for whenever any of her children were
found sitting with those idle hands, for
which DR.. Watts declares that Satan al
ways finds some mischief, she invariably
remarked: "You'd better get your patch
work"
They always obeyed, those three little
girls, Lucy, Ruth and Olive, and there
were piles of quilts in the upstairs room
where spare bedding was stored-quilts
of many colors, quilts of only two, quilts
with large, square blocks, and quilts
with intricate patterns, like a 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: 81 am nine years old"
Piecing a quilt was the first work and
the last OF the members of the Mumford
family. l think an ancestor made some
patches on board of the Mayhower. 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 fifteen,
she had been told that the white and
Turkey red quilt which her great-grand-
mother had made was to be among her
share, as the eldest daughter of the
house. She laughed then, and said:
81 shall always stay at home with you,
mamma. l shall be the old maid daugh-
ter"
A year aftcrward 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 had put an engagement ring
on Olives finger, and, if all went well,
her seventeenth birthday would find her
mctron.
Nothing like seeing your children
settled before you are broken down your
self," said the neither; and thcreupon
began to teach Olive the higher mys-
teries of pastry. Plain cooking every
girl of that family quite understood.
A lover always takes great interest in
his lady's handiwork. Harry regarded
all the little pieces of sewing which
passed through Olives hands with i'm
mense admiration, and the homely patch
work was just as fine in his eyes as any
thing e'se; and there was often much
talk about the pieces, and, once or
twice, he had cut them out, after the
cardboard patterns, loving to meddle
with anything that she was busy with,
in old true lovers fashion.
One evening, when he went in, he
found the girl looking, as an artist
might look at rare old master, at long