CHAPTER VI.
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO
The household at Oaklands presented a singular admixture of diverseelements working together harmoniously, and blending into a home lifethat was thrifty, stirring, and, at the same time, genial and refined.
In Hiram Gilcrest, notwithstanding a certain air of Puritanicalbigotry, there was a strong leaven of integrity and sound sense whichwon him much respect from his neighbors. Seeing him in the midst of hisfamily, one thought him like a tall, vigorous New England fir-tree,standing sentinel over a garden of blooming children, and protectingand sheltering the delicate, listless wife who seemed like a frailhothouse flower which, too late in life, had been transplanted from theartificial warmth of a greenhouse into an outdoor garden.
The sons, reared in the new and hardy soil of Kentucky, were likesturdy young shrubs. Betsy, in her youthful bloom and piquancy, was thetype of the fragrant, spicy garden pink; and no one could look at AbbyPatterson without thinking of a June rose.
During the winter Abner Dudley was often at Oaklands. Theundemonstrative yet hearty interest of Hiram Gilcrest, the serenecordiality of Miss Abby, and the boisterous greeting of the childrenmade the young Virginian feel himself a welcome guest. But, whether hediscussed affairs of church or school, state or nation with his host,or listened to Mrs. Gilcrest's somewhat languid conversation, orparried the sparkling quips and gay repartees of Betsy, he carried awayfrom these visits very little realizing sense of anything save thepresence and personality of Abby Patterson, whose serene gentleness andblooming beauty had power to stir within him "all impulse of soul andof sense."
Another frequent visitor at Oaklands was James Anson Drane, the younglawyer and land agent of Lexington. In him Dudley at first feared aformidable rival; but it soon became apparent that Betsy Gilcrest, notAbby Patterson, was the magnet which drew the young lawyer to Oaklands.Hiram Gilcrest and Drane's father had been close friends. For thisreason James was ever a welcome guest; and he ingratiated himself intostill greater favor with Major Gilcrest by agreeing with him on allpoints, whenever religion or politics was the topic of discussion.Abner Dudley distrusted this easy acquiescence, and had a suspicionthat the views which Drane expressed so glibly were not his truesentiments--a suspicion which Betsy Gilcrest appeared to share, astestified by the scornful toss of her head, the contemptuous smile thatflitted across her lips, and the sarcastic light that flashed in hereyes whenever the bland and brilliant young lawyer fluently argued infavor of federalism and Calvinism.
No distinctions of rank and culture disturbed the homogeneous characterof society at Cane Ridge. Friendships were warm and constant; and justas these men and women had toiled and struggled together in the firstdays of settlement, so now they and their children lived, worked, andenjoyed their simple pleasures in cordial harmony. Although staunchPresbyterians in doctrine, these people did not, as a rule, opposedancing. Mason Rogers was the fiddler of the neighborhood, and as muchesteemed in that capacity as in that of song-leader at church; and evenDeacon Gilcrest, notwithstanding the Puritanical stiffness of hismental joints upon questions of creed, relaxed considerably uponmatters of social pastimes; nor did he assume superiority over hisneighbors on account of his greater wealth and education. On thecontrary, he encouraged his niece and daughter to mingle in all thesocial functions of the community. Hence, the young schoolmaster waslikewise a frequenter of these gatherings--drawn thither by the hope ofseeing Abby Patterson, who, although she did not participate in any ofthe more boisterous games, was frequently present as an onlooker; andwhile the crowd of merry young people were romping through"Rise-up-thimbler," "Shoot-the-buffalo," or "Skip-to-me, -Lou," Abnerhad the opportunity he coveted, a quiet chat with Abby in some retiredcorner of the room.
One form of merry-making which was in high favor among the women ofthat day was the quilting-bee. These quilters of the long ago must havebeen accomplished needlewomen, as evidenced by the heirlooms in"diamond," "rose," "basket," and other quaint designs which havedescended to us from our great-grandmothers.
One Saturday in November there was a quilting-bee and a corn-shuckingat farmer Trabue's. Early in the afternoon the matrons and maids ofCane Ridge--each with thimble, needles and scissors in a long reticuledangling from her waist--congregated in Mrs. Trabue's big upper room,where the quilt, already "swung," was awaiting them.
To Polly Hinkson, who was considered highly accomplished in suchmatters, was accorded the honor of marking the quilt into the patternpreviously decided upon, an elaborate and intricate design known as"bird-at-the-window." The marking done, women and girls seatedthemselves around the quilt, and began to work, taking care to make thestitches short and even, and to keep strictly to the chalk linedefining the pattern.
With an accompaniment of laughter, jest, good-natured gossip andinnocent rivalry, the work went merrily forward all afternoon until theevening shadows began to gather in the upper room. Then the nearlyfinished quilt was rolled upon its frames; and the older women repairedto the kitchen to assist the hostess and her dusky handmaidens insupper preparations, while the girls doffed aprons and reticules,smoothed out Sunday merinoes or bombazines, and readjusted combs andfillets, to be ready for the evening gayeties; for by this time thebeaux were arriving.
In the kitchen, with its smoke-begrimed walls and its blackenedrafters, from which dangled sides of meat, bunches of herbs, andstrings of pepper, the supper was spread. Keeping guard at one end ofthe long table was the roast pig, brown, crisp and juicy, stuffed withsage dressing; around its neck a garland of sausage, in its mouth aturnip. At the other end of the table, facing the pig, was a turkeyreplete with gravy and rich stuffing, and garnished with parsley. Downeach side of the board stretched a long line of edibles--sparerib,potatoes, cabbage, beans and hominy, pitchers of milk and of cider;within this double line, another of pies, white loaf bread, corn pone,flakey biscuit, pickles, honey and apple-butter. In the center of theboard rested the masterpiece of culinary art, the tall "stack cake"shaped like a pyramid, and at its apex a wreath of myrtle. Rangedaround this pyramid stood glasses of foaming, yellow "float."
Immediately after supper the entire company assembled in the barn forthe shucking bout. Several scaffolds had been erected at suitableintervals in the barn, their tops covered with dirt and rocks on whichwere big billets of blazing hickory to furnish light for the workers.The corn was apportioned as equally as possible, and then at a givensignal a lively contest began.
"You don't seem to be trying for the championship," laughingly remarkedAbby Patterson to Abner Dudley that evening as they sat side by side inthe long line of busy shuckers. "See how William Hinkson, Jed White andJohn Smith are working; and look how swiftly Thomas Miles is reducinghis heap. I do believe he will win the contest."
"He may, for all of me," was Abner's smiling rejoinder; "I'm wellcontent to be among the laggards, so long as you are sitting near me.Besides, the prize is not one I should dare claim."
"Is there a prize?" asked Abby. "I did not know that; this is the firstshucking party I ever attended. What is the prize to be?"
"A kiss from any girl the winner may choose from among the shuckers, Ibelieve," Dudley answered demurely.
"Oh!" murmured Abby, blushing warmly. "I now understand."
"The girl of my choice," Abner added with a meaning glance at hiscompanion, and with a decided emphasis upon "my," "is far too refinedand womanly to permit my taking such a reward. Hence, I do not aspireto be a champion shucker, nor a fortunate finder of red ears of corn."
"It is rather difficult, is it not, Betty," he continued presently,with a humorous twinkle in his eyes, as Miss Gilcrest came across towhere he and her cousin were seated, "to find the logical connectionbetween the championship as the fastest corn-shucker, and the privilegeof kissing the girl of one's choice?"
"The custom isn't founded upon logic, but solely upon the consent ofthe parties," was Betsy's ready rejoinder; "and who but a pair of oldsobersides like you and Cousin Abby would sit here discoursing
on'logical connections,' while all this fun is going on? 'Logicalconnection,' indeed!" she exclaimed merrily, with a saucy toss of hercurls.
"At any rate, those hilarious folks over yonder certainly appear tocare but little as to whence the custom originated or upon whatprinciple, logical or otherwise, it is perpetuated," Dudley added,nodding towards the center of the barn, where a number of noisy boysand girls were circling around Thomas Miles, who had just won thechampionship, and was now claiming his reward from the lips of theblushing, screaming, struggling, but by no means displeased, Mary Hitt.
"It is wonderful, isn't it," Abner continued, as Betsy danced away,"how Betty always contrives to evade taking part in those detestablekissing games, and yet maintains her popularity with all those boys andgirls? She's a rare combination--self-willed and impetuous, yetbig-hearted and lovable--and how pretty she is growing!"
"Pretty!" Abby exclaimed warmly. "She is more than pretty, she islovely; and there is a certain force and dignity about her, too, thatcontrasts curiously with her piquant wit and coquettish ways. It wouldbe a bold man indeed who would attempt a familiarity with her."
Returning home after school one February afternoon, schoolmaster andpupils found an unusual stir and commotion agitating the Rogers domain,news having arrived that the neighbors would gather there that nightfor a dance.
Soon after six o'clock, a loud hail from the stile block proclaimed thefirst arrivals, a big sledload of merry folks. Others followed quickly,until in half an hour the spacious family room was overflowing withlife and laughter and excited chatter. Hoods and wraps were quicklythrown aside, rumpled dresses smoothed out, loosened ribbonsreadjusted, refractory ringlets reduced to order, and presently thesitting-room was deserted, and the entire company had assembled in theloom-room across the yard, where the dance was to be held.
"Why do you wound me and slander yourself by such language?" AbnerDudley asked, gloomily, in answer to Miss Patterson's request that heleave her quietly in her corner, and choose some fairer, fresher,merrier partner for the first dance. "I shall not dance at all unlessyou favor me," he stoutly asserted.
"In that case, I suppose I must yield," Abby answered good-naturedly;"I should hate to mar your pleasure of the first Kentucky dance youever attended," and she rose smilingly and took his arm.
A proud and happy man was Abner as they crossed the room to take theirplaces among the eager groups who were standing about impatientlywaiting while Mason Rogers fitted a new string to his fiddle.
"'Fairer than Rachel at the palmy well, Fairer than Ruth amid the fields of corn, Fair as the angel that said "hail," she seemed!'"
quoted Abner, bending his head to look into the face of the girl besidehim--the grandiloquence of the quotation and the blunt directness ofthe flattery atoned for by the earnest sincerity of his voice andglance.
Abby was indeed a fair and gracious vision as she stood there, straightand lissome as a young palm-tree. The somber plainness of her wintergown of dark merino and the soft, clinging texture of her muslin tuckeraccentuated the delicate fairness of skin, the dainty perfection offeature, and the exquisite beauty of the white throat. Her quiet,rather pensive face was just now unusually animated, and the faintsea-shell tint of her cheek was deepened into a glowing crimson.
"This homely scene is a contrast to that Assembly ball, isn't it?"Dudley said presently; "and how different my position now from that ofthe forlorn youth who that night stood afar off, gazing with uselesslonging at the brilliant scene within the ballroom! Little did I thendream that to-night in far-off Kentucky I should be leading the reelwith the peerless belle of that assembly."
"There stands the 'peerless belle' of this assembly," returned MissPatterson, looking across to Betsy Gilcrest, the center of a group ofboys and girls. "Dear little girl!" continued Abby; "she appears in herairiest, sauciest mood to-night, and is clearly bent on enjoying lifeto its fullest extent. No one holds her head so prettily as Betty; noone laughs and chatters with such innocent gayety. Is she notbewitching?"
A momentary look of vexation flitted across the young man's face. "Whatis Betsy's witchery to me, and why does Abby always try to divert myattention when I would give our conversation a personal meaning?" hethought gloomily. "Of course," he admitted, glancing at Betsy withreluctant admiration, "she is bright and winning, and extremelyattractive, at least to the youths of this community; but she is notthe rose, and I----"
"Ah! It is easy to see what is the attraction here for that bepowdered,beruffled, fashionable swain, as well as for the Cane Ridge youths,"Miss Patterson interrupted, as James Anson Drane presented himselfbefore Betsy, and bowed over her hand with a courtly grace befitting afar more brilliant scene than this country dance in the old loom-room.
"Do you think she favors him?" asked Dudley, anxiously, a momentaryfierce pang of dislike or distrust or envy shivering through him as helooked at the debonair young lawyer.
"At any rate," laughed Abby, "there can be no doubt of his intentions.As for her," she continued, looking earnestly at Abner, "I have in minda far more suitable lover, who will, I hope, some day win that heart ofgold."
"Who is this fortunate one destined to 'win that heart of gold'?"Dudley carelessly inquired, feeling but little interest just then inany topic save that which concerned himself and the girl at his side."Do I know him?"
"Only slightly, I believe," Miss Patterson replied, looking down with ademure smile; "not nearly so well as I hope you will some day."
Abner flushed warmly, and his pulse leaped high with hope; for heinterpreted the words to refer to a closer relationship between Abbyand himself. "Of course," he thought jubilantly, "I shall become wellacquainted with Betsy's prospective husband, when Abby shall haveaccepted me."
"Whoever he may be," said Abner, heartily, "since he has your approval,I wish him Godspeed with Betty; for," he added in a lower key, andfrowning slightly, as he looked at Mr. Drane, "I can not, for the lifeof me, cordially like or trust yonder fine gentleman. But what aboutthis other lover for Betty?"
"At present," Abby answered with a meaning which Abner was far fromconstruing correctly, "he thinks his affections are centered in a farless worthy object; and he is blind to his heart's best interests."
"Let us hope that this blind Romeo may soon be restored to sight,"laughed Abner; "or else, that dear little Juliet yonder will be carriedoff by some clearer-visioned wooer. But see, Mr. Rogers has at lastrestrung that fiddle and tuned it to his notion; so now for our dance!"
No stately minuet or mincing cotillion was the order of the evening.Instead, the "countre dance," the "gauntlet," the "four-handedreel"--old-time, energetic country dancing--shook the rafters overhead,and made the puncheon floor vibrate. Such jigging, such "cutting thepigeon wing," such swinging corners! No languid, lazy gliding, buthearty motion--up and down, round and round, faster and faster, as thetwinkling bow sawed across the strings to the tune of "Coon Dog," "RoxyAnn," "Billy Batters," or "Niggah in the Cawnfield."
Rousing music it was--"enough," as Rube and Tom declared, "to mek evena one-legged fellah git up an' hump hisse'f."
Mason Rogers at one end of the room, his eyes beaming, his faceshining, made the fiddle hum and sing. Interspersed with his music cameenergetic promptings, "Balance all!" "Swing yer pardnahs!" "Ladies,chain!" "Gals to the centah, an' boys all around!" Sometimes headmonished some laggard or blunderer, "Hurry, thah, Sammy!" "Bill, tothe left!" his feet the while tapping the floor, and his body swayingrhythmically as his right arm swung the bow and the fingers of his lefthand twinkled over the strings. A further incentive to merriment wasthe excited admiration of the negroes gathered outside at doors andwindows--not only the darkeys of the Rogers household, but many fromneighboring domains as well--heads bobbing, eyes rolling, teethglistening, as their feet beat time on the frozen ground. Sometimes adusky swain caught some dusky maid around the waist and swung hermerrily; and all promised themselves "jes' sech a dance in the bigcabin, nex' Sat'day night, with Marse Bushrod Hinkson's Jak
e furfiddler."
Crestlands: A Centennial Story of Cane Ridge Page 9
