A Gathering of Days

by Joan W. Blos

  Wednesday, June 1, 1831

  How different are the dresses she’s brought from those of Cassie’s mother. Yet freely she pegs an apron around them, puts a shawl atop them when chilled, and goes about as if unconcerned at her odd appearance. Open V’s at throat and back, and well-shaped bodices tightly tucked, were never meant for farm work, or the country life.

  Friday, June 3, 1831

  Now are we busy from dawn to dusk with things she finds in need of doing, and all with our assistance! I think I have not seen Cassie to speak since she, & D., arrived.

  The last of the bedding has been brought down, including the quilts my own mother brought when she came as a bride. I worry lest she should inquire why there are only eleven of these instead of the usual dozen. How little we knew when we put it out what was to befall.

  Within the house we scrub and sweep. You would not think that before she came I had cleaned it well! This, it seems, is Spring Cleaning—and must be done from top to bottom whether ’tis needed or no. Today she enlisted Daniel’s help to carry out (and in again) all the furnishings! Some of the pieces are assigned new places; the old planked table’s drawn near the hearth, the fashion, she says, in Boston. She intends to hang it with a cloth, and set a lamp in the middle. The dresser’s been moved to a farther wall—handier to the work of the kitchen in her estimation. Still does the new chair retain its place, and the settle’s still by the fire.

  Last night I sat there next to her while Father read from the Bible as he so likes to do. Daniel and Matty had been out of doors but came inside with darkness. Then joining together, five voices as one, we easily followed Father in prayer, and so retired to bed.

  Tuesday, June 7, 1831

  Cassie came by this morning to say I must come and see! They’ve a grand new mural along the stair, and in the parlour too! The latter is in the most popular style but was done in a single day! It shows a hillside, and farm, and elms; the latter, says Cassie, in tiny leaf, that it may be Spring for ever!

  The stenciller showed me a book he had from which I copied out nearly a page for my future instruction.

  The stencils are made from metal plates, there being one for every colour, and of each part of the design. The desired effect of landscape or scene is achieved by the muralist through their knowing combination. In this manner an entire scene may be readily constructed and far more quickly executed than by free-hand drawing.

  From The Curious Arts by one Rufus Porter:

  Every object must be painted larger or smaller according to the distance at which it is represented; thus the proper height of trees in the second distance is one to two inches, the other objects in proportion. Those in the first distance from six to ten inches generally; but those in the foreground, which are nearest, are frequently painted as large as the walls will admit. The colours also for distant objects, house, ships, etc., must be varied, being mixed with more or less sky blue, according to the distance of the object. By these means the view will apparently recede from the eye and will have a very striking effect.

  “Very striking effect,” indeed. I think I never till now have seen any murals as handsome as these. ’Tis hard to restrain my envy. But I largely succeeded, and confess’d it not.

  Wednesday, June 8, 1831

  The start of Summer school! Of our household & the Shipmans, I, Matty, and Cassie will go. Asa and David will help their father; Willie might go but that Mrs. Shipman is reluctant to give up her baby sooner than she must. Daniel, like the other boys, will be working the farm. Father notes this with quiet pride. I never thought, before this time, he might have minded that he must ever beg after help; thus wait until the others were done to commence his haying. We gladly helped him, Matty and I. But our strength was insufficient for some shares of the work.

  At the school house we were met with exclamations, happy tears, and crying after news! Mary Nelson,

  Joshua’s sister, has gone, we hear, to Tiltonboro for a Summer’s teaching position. Sophy’s uncle, her mother’s younger brother, got a foot so badly mangled they had to cut it off. He is all right now.

  Matty, this morning, was all impatience. And truly one would not believe that any pupil before this day had studied penmanship. Father gave her a new lead plummet which he had shaped himself. This implement dangles brightly from a new birch ruler, bought for her, by means of a flaxen string. Also from Father a sharpened quill; from her a pewter inkstand. I think this may have been her own when she was a girl. It bears the marks of frequent use, nor was it any of ours. She’s promised, too, a new manuscript book—and tho’ we have enough of plain paper at hand, Matty’s copy-book is to be bound with patterned paper, sent from Boston, but not yet arrived.

  The new teacher’s name is Miss Orpha Williams. She is kind and tiny; hardly taller than I! I fear the larger of the boys, if such attend the school this Summer, will take advantage of her. She was to have come a week ago but was delayed in arrival. Thus is delayed also the opening day of school.

  Thursday, June 9, 1831

  I heard the clatter as I came up the road, coming home from school. The weaver! I thought. And so it was, earlier than in other years; but this is a different weaver than we’ve had before. She liked his looks, is all she said, and thought he was well-spoken. I would rather have waited for the one we know.

  The loom’s set up in the parlour already, and from its opened windows the clatter emanates.

  He’ll make a new coverlet for their bed—the dark blue pattern for the Winter months, and a lighter Summer side. ’Tis a rather old-fashioned pattern, but she prefers it still.

  Friday, June 10, 1831

  The truth is told about the quilt. It happened in this manner, and Matty was the cause:

  With the weaver here these days there has been considerable talk of linens and bedding, sewing and quilts, quilting designs and their stories. Flying Geese? Moon over Mountain? Star of Bethlehem? She knows a host of them by name—both those she’s made and otherwise—and likes to talk about them.

  “Then you tell the story,” says Matty to me, “about the red’s from the Russian’s coat, and grab the father’s trousers.”

  “But what can you have in mind?” I asked, her words being so outlandish that they caught me unaware. Embarrassed by my answer to her Matty now shrilled at me: “The Russian’s coat! You know it, Cath! And you and Cassie took the quilt and—”

  “Matty!” I gasped, too late.

  “Catherine,” she queried, drawing a thread & smoothing down her stitching, “does the child mean yet another quilt, one I know not of?”

  Until that moment no lie was asked, as I had reminded Cassie so many months ago. As for the deception itself, I’d long since found the justification in Teacher Holt’s well-known remarks, and Uncle Jack’s opinions.

  But now I must tell the truth or lie, deny that Cassie and I had done what Matty had seen us do.

  I blurted: “ ’Twas anyway a very old quilt. You wouldn’t have liked it at all!” Then red-faced and tearful I told it all. The missing book. The message found. Our hard-won decision and the precepts given in school. Even Asa’s whipping and the stolen Shipman pies.

  “Catherine, Catherine”, was all she said. Then: “I’m so put to the test!” She made an attempt to resume the sewing but only snarled the thread. As for my part I could not speak & I remember nothing of Matty in this while.

  “Come,” she said, calm regained, and led us to the Summer kitchen to start the evening meal.

  Halfway through that work she exclaimed, “And did you not think on the danger to you? What cruel misfortunes might have occurred, harm to you, or Cassie?”

  “No,” I said. “He was cold. And ’twas winter then.”

  “Dear child,” she said, “for you are but a child . . .” Then she advanced as if to embrace me, but as soon withdrew. “Come,” she said with an effort to be brisk. “I’m afraid we have fallen idle. Run, quick, Matty, and fetch us some water. Catherine, that fire needs wood. As for the quilt I must
think on it; must search out what to do.”

  Early morning, Saturday, June 11, 1831

  Last night I heard them talking. Mostly her voice; then Father’s. They spoke so low the words were indistinct. Then her laugh rang out.

  “But Charlie,” she said, “it is really so funny! Grab the father’s trousers!”

  Then he chuckled, then murmurings; then were we all asleep.

  Later Saturday

  I am to make a replacing quilt. That she has decided & our father agreed. When I protested I could do it not—that I knew, hemming, running, and felling, overstitch and buttonhole, but not to make a quilt—she smiled despite the solemn moment, and my urgency.

  “All that should make it easy,” she said. “Besides I am here now, to teach you.”

  Then she stretched out a hand to me. Whereat I cried, as I’d not done before—nor have I done for months and years—and when at last I looked at her I saw her own eyes glistened.

  XIII

  Monday, June 13, 1831

  As soon as the clothes were set to boiling she brought down her pattern book—filled with sketches and hints from friends, and various notations. I considered each one with care and from the whole number selected three, none of which had difficult curves, or seemed in any other way likely to be too demanding of my present skills. From these I chose, for two principal reasons, the one called Mariner’s Compass.

  1) It requires a background of white. For that I can use our old linen sheeting, already mended as far as can be, with outside edges long sewn to the centre, and some still further patched. Now that her boxes of house goods are come I need not scruple excessively over such use of ours.

  2) Mariner’s Compass is little known here tho’ popular near Boston, and North as far as Maine. ’Tis said to be made by sailors’ wives that their dear ones would be preserved, and brought safely home.

  Tuesday, June 14, 1831

  Saying, “Well begun were half done,” she shewed me, on my return from school, where she had laid out snips and scraps collected from how many shirts and dresses and salvaged from other worn clothing. “You’ll need to cut them very exact,” was all I had of instruction before commencing my task.

  O! if the Jew but knew the use to which I put his scissors. This cutting is a tedious matter—one must bend to it very close; also she watches over me to see that I take sufficient care in laying out the pieces that the least of the cloth be wasted.

  Wednesday, June 15, 1831

  A story from Uncle Jack: A farmer wagered he knew to the pound how much his grey mare could draw. A by-standing stranger selected a log. The farmer nodded, a dollar was wagered, and the mare hitched up. This time it seemed the farmer would lose, for the mare could not budge the log. Before he’d forfeit his dollar tho’, the Yankee re-checked the scene. And there he discovered a pair of wet mittens lying on the log. No sooner did he lift them off than the mare moved smartly along, the farmer winning his wager.

  “But is it a true story?” Daniel asked. “Do you think it might have happened? I mean, sir, would a really good farmer know his horse so exactly and what a mare can do?”

  Thursday, June 16, 1831

  Joshua surprised us, this afternoon, by meeting us at school. He had it in mind to walk down to the Shipmans’ and if he was going to go that far would do it with company. His mission afforded a second surprise: Teacher Holt had said he’d find Joshua some books! And Joshua, once the most indifferent of scholars, had troubled to come this long dusty way just to claim the favour. J. now confesses he aspires to study at Mr. Dudley Leavitt’s school down to Meredith.

  Saturday, June 18, 1831

  Every day I must cut, trim, and sort pieces for my quilt. I thought to have had all ready by now but seem to have scarcely started. You would not think it would take so long just to prepare the work! When I remarked on my lack of progress, she quickly took the occasion to point her moral out. “Perhaps had you known what you’re learning now you would not have so quickly agreed to what you did last Winter.”

  Monday, June 20, 1831

  I dare say it went well with Asa, since giving his verse to Sophy. Every day, this Summer term, she walks homeward with Cassie and me; and none of us mention what all of us know: the road we take is the longest way ‘round to Sophy’s own front door!

  Lately, I notice, nearly every day, Asa, by what coincidence, finds himself at fence-side just after school lets out!

  Wednesday, June 22, 1831

  Nothing as we have done it before seems to satisfy her now.

  “Loosen the bedsheets first from the corners; that way the strain will be less great and the wear prolonged. Catherine! Matty! Don’t pull at them so! Now mind what I’ve told you, girls!”

  She is that particular how each thing is done. Do mind this and do mind that! “Work worth doing is worth doing well,” I hear at every hand.

  Yet just as it seems I bring only vexation, she’ll take my side ’gainst Daniel’s complaint, or even caution my father, “But Charles, she’s but a child!”

  Yesterday I came upon her as she repacked a trunk in which she’d brought clothes out from Boston.

  “Do you like these, Catherine?” she asked, holding up a set of cuffs and a matching collar.

  When I allowed by word and gesture that I thought them beautiful, she said quietly they should be mine, and gave them over to me.

  Thursday, June 23, 1831

  We had a great storm last night! It split two trees near the West field’s fence; this morning water flowed over the road like a new sprung river! Indeed, at the steps at the corner of the barn, we had an infant waterfall which lasted half the day!

  I think there are few displays more grand than a Summer’s thunder storm. Matty feels quite the opposite and passed the whole of last night’s storm with a shawl pressed to her eyes.

  Friday, June 24, 1831

  With the addition of those cut today, I now have sufficient pieces to begin the figures. The background will take longer as ’tis larger in extent.

  Monday, June 27, 1831

  Weekday, Saturday, and Sabbath-day fly! We have very much to do, to which is added my quilting. At this I stitch and stitch away. I must give to her to approve each block as it’s completed.

  Lately the weather is very fine, and the evenings long. The stricture to be home by dark—which so shortens our Winter visits—hardly touches us now. Night after night our yard, or the Shipmans’, rings with laughter as we engage in Blind Man’s Bluff or Snap the Whip or similar diversions. Daniel and Asa have become fast friends—some times a blessing and some times not as they will chase after me and Cassie with some horrid toad they’ve caught, or garden snake they’ve captured.

  Hurrah for JULY THE FOUETH!

  We passed the whole of this day in town, having departed just as soon as morning chores released us. The sun was not yet fully arisen—when, with packed meal beside us in the wagon, and well cooled keg of cyder beside—we five left the yard.

  Even as we rumbled towards town we heard the bells begin to ring, and the firing of cannon. The streets around the green were throng’d and noisy with a million cries and small boys going every where, lustily drumming on pails. From time to time a fire cracker would explode near by. We saw two teams that nearly panicked, the horses rearing tho’ confined by harness, and whinnying in terror. Babe and Nelly seemed deaf-eared throughout, and were calm all day. Some times I feel I must love these beasts for their unfailing patience, their enormous size.

  Wagons and chaises surrounded the green whereon at 9 o’clock promptly the militia paraded. Presently all the marchers stopped, and stood most steadily in their places, while fife and fiddle & drummers performed, the last of their tunes being Yankee Doodle, which was the most applauded. Next was read, in ringing tones, the Declaration of Independence; this being followed by a prayer given by the militia captain. A soldier’s prayer is even more forceful than one by a minister. (Perhaps ’tis the unexpectedness of some-time strength so sweetly gentled?
I am reminded of that day when Father insisted that he alone would attend the cooking.)

  Dan’l and Asa soon slipped off, and Father went with Uncle Jack to refresh himself at the tavern. However, we women wanted not for diversion, & hardly knew they were gone! The scene before us was constantly changing and, at 11 o’clock in the morning, the oration was given. A Judge J Wax came down from Plymouth especially for the event. At the end he espied two fellows with thin white hair & pipe stem legs, wearing what seemed the well-worn remains of that well-loved uniform—the buff coloured trousers & deep blue coats of General Washington’s soldiers. The speaker’s eager imagination placed them both at Valley Forge, and lauded them as patriots by whose example we might be inspired, and called on them to reply.

  At this they nudged and poked each other, grinned in embarrassed toothlessness, and only later did we all learn: these were Hessians who’d served with Burgoyne and shared in his defeat!

  By mid-day, it having grown quite warm, we sat beside the wagon, grateful for the wedge of shade that its height afforded. There did we eat the meal we’d brought—the outdoor air enhancing its flavour—and presently Father re-appeared to keep us company. He’d heard reports of burns, one maiming, through misfired explosions.

  The afternoon hours drifted by; some who’d heard of Father’s remarriage took the occasion to come around and examine his new wife. I think she came off well in this; she seemed not discomforted and replied most pleasantly as she was spoken to.

  There was one final delight in the day! As we made our way towards home—weary, warm, and satisfied—I looked back over the valley. At this very moment there arose from the green a final display of fireworks against the evening sky! Even Dan’l applauded this and for once did not complain or make a fall-shy comparison with how ’tis done in Boston.