The Somerset reporter., 1893-06-15
4 Revolution in plumYille.

district. II the soil Was lllls', ln' ipthH
were thick-so thick. indeed, that 1t was
"A grim Joke that a shotgun was needed
to get the seed eoru into the first aud he
tween the second owing to this bed
rock, the drainage was poor. and what
The drought spared. sudden showers
swept away.
all the Young men went Nest the ol |
shoemaker had moved away, aud even
tie minister had departed, leaving a
monumental pair ut crossed poles tp bar
the entrance 10 tie meetin house. And
vet these natiNc~-NrW ENGLAND men
and Womcn-Wrrr not lacking III -hreNd-
if>> md common sense. They we're
simply discouraged. With all tlirir hard
labor. they never got beyond the bare
necessities OF life. They had M alnu>e-
ment~. no expectations, no hope. llr
women never had time to sit down, but
spent their days cooking and washing IN
the kitchens. The front room. we're al
WaV~ closely suffered, the front >trp,
were uvergrown with coarse weeds. ana
the front gate refused To open. Ever
body came and went by the back door.
along the narrow worn foot path. y ,
flowers were cultivated. and very lew
varictic. of vegetables. News was old
when ii reached Plumyille. and excited
little more interest than archaeological
stories. Few books were bought. and
those few of a kind in which no rational
being could feel an interest. iames OF
cards were tabooed. There could be no
social life in SO sparscly settled region.
1t was the custom for the farmer who
had "arrants" in the village to bring the
occasional newspaper or rare letter Tor
l.,
Brown saw smith Jogging along towards
1.-THE Centre. he Brown knew that on
smiths return AN hour or Two later he
would find anything the mail had
brought him in his yard. tossed there by
the obliging smith.
once II year, perhaps. there would be
Il wedding, for in Plumyille all widowers
speedily replaced their first. ON these
occasions il was usual to borrow white
kid gloves from the doctor, who had
scutinentally or economically for he
had himself worn them ut Two separate
ceremonies preserved his with care.
In the spring OF lSS0 old Mr.. Elkins
fell sick. His wife had just died, and he
had no children. 1t was an aided bur-
lien to the weary ncighbors, who felt
they must do for the old man. At
the best it was fragmcntary service, and
the invalid WAS alone many hours ont ol
every twenty-four. The relief was great.
therefore, when somehow or other Il
nepheW'> widow. or Il cousins daughter.
appeared rs nurse and housckccper. She
brought IA niece with hcr-a slip OF a
frecklcd girl about sixteen years old.
whose name was Millv French. Milly
assumed the care of the chickens, MIXED
the COW. fed Towse". and as she came
and went about these duties the neigh
bors wondered to hear her singing like
happy bird. She threw open the front
blinds and let the sunlight sacrllegiouSly
stream through the windows: she even
set the sacred front door aar, and sat on
the door steps on pleasant afternoons
with her knitting work. II the sunset
was VERY gorgeous, she was seen with
idle hands. The spindling grass was
sheared off, so that the gate would swing
back easily.
ITS enough to make Mis- Elkin- turn
in her grave, said Ncighbor Flint
As the summer advanced, all uneon-
sciouS IF Plumyile etiquette and conven-
Mliy wandered in the fields
hunting for orchids, or took long walks
to Bacon's woods, fetching her basket
full of plants, which she industriously
in virgin soil of the Elkins
front yard.
sNWell, never" said Mrs. Flint as She
pceked through an opportunc crcvicc Of
her side window. "What won't 'she do
neXt?'
But Nillv watcred her honcysuckles.
Dropped up her daisies. put rich loom i'll
to the sandy waste, and WAS rewarded by
of blossoms, When the hens
scratched up her treasures, she contrived
an enclosure of paling that circumscrib-
ed their operations. By-and-by she add
ed a trcllis for wild rose bushes, and Il
long tent of twinc for her fluffy wood
clematis. Little by little the small
house. unpainted bur tinted soft, sill
very, weather-beaten gray. began to out
line its windows in bright green, and to
throw woodbine garlands all over the
homely porch. Season after season
went by. Mlly now had seeds and cut
tings to give away. She carried bou-
uucts to the sick, potted a root for II
friend, brought ii jar of mignonctte from
Lincoln, or received package OF seeds
from "A florist. 1t thus came to pass that
every house in Plumville soon boosted
flower bed. and in winter every kitchen
had at least one window full of petunias
or geranilms, the steam of cooking and
washing causing them to grow wonder
fully. Cold frames for pansies weie
even strawberries and
asparagus We're attempted. And that
these improvements might not fail, the
land about the house was drained. low
branches Topped oil. the sink nozzle eX-
tended to a safe distance. till light and
air and dryness came to these Gcnizens
of the kitchen.
You would not have known Plumyille.
Why, the shoemaker who came back to
stay. pretended that he had never seen
it before. 1t was rumored that bakers
cart would come over from Lincoln
once week, and on the strength of it
the postmaster cleare off shelf aud
drove six nails in the loose door steps.
But this Plumville boom is far ahead of
my story. Long before the flowers had
begun to be very common there. Milly
French puzzled much over the unused
church. One day she got the key and
went in. Though it was in August, the
interior was cold and damp, almost like
cellar. Cobwebs hung down from the
two long stove pipes that extended the
whole length of the building. Torn
hymn-books were lying about. and sev-
e.al window panes We're broken. \
general air of desolation pervaded the
place. Milly sat for long time, think
ing, thinking. Then she walked very
quickly to Mrs. Flint'> who lived near
by.