The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1894-01-24
AN OLD FASHIONED MOTHER.
M1a. arp Searching for Somstbing-Tslk'
ing About Old Times.

searching for something, ana as sa
in the other corner with my little table
and pen, watched her as she laid lhe
ancient relics on chair and unfolde6
first one and then another, and looked
at them so earnestly, and then folded
them up again. What are you hunt
ing for, my dear?" said l. Goa, moth,
ing much" said she; II was just lock
ing over these little dresses to see II
there was anying that would do for tn:
little grandchildren. Here is a pretty
dress. This dress cost me many care
foI stitch. All these plaits were made
by my hand, my own hand. There is
very little such work done now, for We
had no sewing machines then, and il
took d long, long time. This embro
diery was beautiful then, and it is pref
ty yet. Do you remember when The
first daguerrean came to our town te
take pictures? Well, Hattie wore this
dress when her picture was taken.
thought she was the sweetest little
thing in the world, and so did you, and
so she was. Since then we have hao
ambrotypes, and photographs, and por,
celain pictures, and I don't know what
all: but that little dasuerreotype gave
me more pleasure than anything since,
and it is pretty now. Let me see-that
was twenty-five years ago, and now !
think this same dress will look right
pretty on Hsttie's child. And here is
one that our first boy was christened
in; and there is no machine work about
it either. That was more than thirty
years ago, and now there are four
grandchildren. at his house, and three
more at another ones house, and
don't know what will become of the
poor little things, but I reckon the
Lord Will provide for them. And here
is little garment that Jennie made.
Poor Jenpie;she had troubled life, but
she is in heaven now, and I'll save this
for Pet. She will prize it because her
mother made it. Aud here is a piece
of my wedding dress-do you remem.
Der Il? know you said then that l
looked like an angel in it, but my wings
have dropped off long ago, and now I'm
only poor OLD woman, a faded flower,
an oyerworked mother, ten living chill
dren, and three more up yonder, and |
will be there, too, ! hope. before long,
for I'm getting tired, very tired, and it
seems to me I would like to be nursed,
nursed by my mother, and petted like
she used to pet me in the long, long
ago. And here is a pair of little baby
shoes, and the little darling who wore
them is in the grave, but he IS better
off now, and I wouldn't call him back
if I could. Sometimes I want to feel
sad, and I rummage over these Old
things. There IS Dot much here now,
for every little while have to get at
something to mend with or patch or
make over again. I wish you would
60 and see what Carl and jessie are
doing; down at the branch l reckon,
and feet all wet, and they have both
got dreadful colds / can't keep them
away from that branch.
ssDidn't you play in the branch, my
dear, when you were child?" said !.
eyes" she said mournfully, "out
nothing couldn't hurt me then; we
were not raised so delicate iD those
days. You know, I used tc ride to the
plantation, twelve miles, and back
again in a day, and bring a bag of fruit
on the horn of the saddle; but the girls
couldn't do it now. They can go to 8
party in buggy and dance half the
night, but that is all the excitement,
and they are not lit for anything the
next day. WedidD't have any dances
hardly eYer-we went to the country
weddings sometimes. You remember
we went to James Dunlap's wedding,
when he married Rebecca Sammons.
That was dig frolic-an old.fashion-
ed frolic. Everybody was there from
all the neighborhood, and there were
turkeys, and roast pig, and cake. thap
l ever saw, and we played everything
We could think of. Rebecca was pref
ty then; but poor Woman-she has had
a thousand ,childrep, too, just like my
self, and reckon she is faded, TOO, and
tired
"But Jim Dunlap hasn't faded" said
I. 81 see him when go to town, and
he is big, and fat, and merry-looks
a little like old David Davis"
"Oas yes, Of course he does, "said Mrs.
Arp. "rhe men don't know anything
about care, and anxiety, and sleepless
nights. It IS wonder to me they die
at all"
But I have helped you all I could
my DEAR" said I, "and you see it's tell
ing on me Look at these silver hairs,
and these wrinkles, ald crowsfeet, and
my back hurts ever and anon, and this
rainy, bad weather, gives me rheuma.
tism, bat you haven't a gray hair, and
hardly seam on your alabaster fore
head.
"Why, you will outliYe me, too, and
maybe. there will be a rich wldower
stepping around here in my shoes and
you will havea fine carriage and pair
of beautiful bay horses, and"
"Williaw. told you to go after Carl
and Jessie"
'If Vanderbilt's wife should die and
be could accidentally see you," said l,
''after I'm gone, there's no telling
''Well, go along now and fn1 the
children, and when you come back I'll
listen to your foolishress; l am not 60.
Ing to let you die if I can help it, for
don't know what would become OF US
all. Yes, you have helped me l know,
and have been great comfort, and did
the best you could-most of the time;
yes, most Of the time-and I might
have done worse, and sou must pet me-
for am getting childish.
"ADd you must pet me, too," said I
COB, of course l will, said she; lam
not always petting you? Nog: &c
along alter the children before we both
get to crying and have a scene; and !
wish YOU would see if the buff cochin
hen has hatched in the hen house"
"Ste has been setting about fourteen
weeks" said>l, "blt she IS getting old
and these cd mothers are slow, mighty
slow"
went after the children, and sure
enough they were fishing in the spring
branch, and their shoes were wet and
muddy. and they were bareheaded, and
I marched them up tenderly, and Mrs