Well, after breakfast Tamer and I wuz in the settin’ room both on us sewin’, for I had took a fine shirt of Josiah’s to finish, and she wuz embroiderin’ some lace ruffles to trim a skirt for Anna.
“Tamer, I should think such work would be hard on your basiler disease, whatever it is. Hain’t it dretful hard to embroider that fine lace?”
“Yes, Josiah Allen’s wife, it is hard, but you know I don’t mind any labor or any care if I can advance my children’s happiness, you know jest how I watch over their interests and am willing to spend and be spent in their service.”
And she bent closter still over the fine complicated stitches of that wearisome lookin’ embroidery, and I thought and couldn’t help it, if you would spend half or a quarter of the time you spend in ornamentin’ the bodies of your children, in lookin’ out for their souls and hearts, and studyin’ their welfare, you would come out better in the end.
And at this very minute little Jack come in lookin’ bright as the mornin’, which wuz very fair. He wuz dressed up slick and clean in a little blue suit, with a deep collar braided painfully by Tamer Ann in fine black braid, and all up and down the side of his little legs that fine embroidery run. And Tamer begun to charge him the minute he got into the room to not run round out doors for fear he would soil that beautiful new suit. “You know,” sez she, “your Ma done that for you when she couldn’t hardly lift her head from the pillow. It almost killed your Ma, that work did.”
I see at this Jack’s little face grew overcast with a couple of shadders. One wuz cast from the martyr’s cloudy brow, no doubt the thought of killin’ his Ma wuz more or less painful to him, and the other and deeper shadder wuz that he couldn’t run round free as the young colts that wuz prancin’ about the medder by the side of the house. His poor little legs wuz jest achin’ to jump and bound and curvit round, and there they wuz doomed to imprisonment in a braided fortress. Oh, my! I wuz sorry for Jack, sorry as I could be. Well, Tamer and I sot there and had quite an agreeable visit, Tamer has her properties, though she is sot and overbearin’, I mean when she is herself, more’n half the time I do believe she imagines herself a Female Amazonian or a African Princess or sunthin’.
We talked about the different relations on both sides, and quite a good deal about my grandchildren; she talked middlin’ agreeable, but what I can’t understand in her is her total lack of good judgment. Why, she said that there had been other little girls that looked jest as well as Tirzah Ann’s youngest, little Anna Thyrza, and she said she didn’t like the name, and if Tirzah had called her after herself she ort to called her Tirzah Ann. Sez I, “We call her Delight, she don’t hardly know she has got any other name, and,” sez I, “our daughter can’t bear the name of Tirzah Ann, she thinks it is so old fashioned and humbly, and so I don’t know that she is so much to blame for naming her in this roundabout way after herself. Whitfield would have the baby named after her Ma,” sez I.
Sez Tamer, “I shall always call the child Tirzah.” And agin I told her this it wuzn’t the child’s name, and agin Tamer sez firmly, “Tirzah is a good name, and I shall call her Tirzah.” And so she did call her through the hull of our conversation in spite of all my explanations.
Well, bein’ a visitor, I thought I wouldn’t contend with her, but I wuz some mad on the inside about it. But jest while we wuz talkin’ Tamer looked out towards the road and said, “If there don’t come Aunt Nabby Barnes! oh, dear me! the sight of her fairly makes me sick, and she will stay all day most likely. Well, we have got to make the best of it, I spoze, she has got lots of money and no heirs, and she thinks a good deal of Jack. Now, Jack,” sez she, to the little boy who wuz lookin’ on with open eyes and ears, “you must be good to her and pay attention to her all day.” And then agin she resoomed her complaints. “Why couldn’t she have stayed away to-day and let us alone? I hope she won’t stay long.” By that time Aunt Nabby had knocked at the door, and Tamer met her with enthosiasm and several kisses, and sez:
“Oh, my dear Aunt Nabby! how glad we all are to see you! Why haven’t you been here before? It seems an age since we have seen you; you have come now to stay a good, long while with us, haven’t you? Jack come right here and kiss dear Aunt Nabby.”
“I won’t,” sez Jack. “I don’t want her here.”
“Do you come this minute, Jack, and kiss dear Aunt Nabby. Jack talks about you so much, Aunt Nabby; he thinks everything of you.”
“I don’t,” sez Jack; “I don’t think anything of her at all.”
“Jack, do you come here this minute and kiss Aunt Nabby, or I will punish you severely.”
Jack dragged himself towards her as if a heavy weight hung to his feet, and put his cheek up against hers. He didn’t kiss her, I don’t believe, but his mother thought he did, and so she let him off.
Well, that afternoon Jack told a fib, and his mother ketched him at it. It wuz what they call a white lie, as for me I have always made a practice of thinkin’ that lies are never white, that they are never any color but black. But this one of Jack’s wuzn’t very black, anyway, it wuz a sort of a small light colored one (if they are ever light colored). But you ort to seen the fuss Tamer Ann made over it, and it wuz jest what ort to be done, he ortn’t to be allowed to fib. But who learnt him to lie? Who sot him the pattern? Them wuz the two questions that wuz hantin’ me as I hearn Tamer Ann whippin’ him and heard Jack cryin’ over it.
Tamer come downstairs completely exhausted, and sez she, “Oh, what a time I have had! What a job it is to bring up children right! My arms ache as if they would come off, but I will bring my children up right if my arms do come off in the job. Lyin’ is sunthin’ I won’t have in this house.”
And Tamer meant what she said, I hain’t no idee but what she did, she thought she abominated lyin’ and never mistrusted she had been lyin’ all the mornin’ herself, about three and a half hours of clear, stiddy lie, black as a coal. She didn’t mistrust it, but in the cause of duty I reminded her of it, for I loved Jack and couldn’t bear to see him spilte, and I sez, “Children are quick to foller patterns.”
And she sez, tostin’ her head, “Nobody ever ketched me in a lie, or Hamen, either.”
Sez I, “Jack heard you groanin’ and dreadin’ Aunt Nabby, and hatin’ to see her, to her back, and then kissin’ and tellin’ her how glad you wuz to see her to her face; what is that, Tamer Ann Allen, what is that?”
She tosted her head agin and sez, “Oh, you have got to do such little things to git along peaceable.” Sez I, “Well, I spoze Jack thought he had got to tell his little lie in order to git along smooth.”
Sez Tamer Ann, “This is entirely different; we older ones have the duties of society restin’ on us——”
“The older ones,” sez I, interruptin’ her, “ort to behave themselves and not set patterns of falsehood before the children.”
“Society, as it is now organized,” sez Tamer Ann, “cannot exist and run smoothly without a little, not exactly falsehood or deceit, I wouldn’t use exactly those words——”
“I would,” sez I firmly, “I would, that is jest what they be, jest what you used this mornin’ and whipped Jack for this afternoon.”
“Society would break in pieces if it were not for the oil of these qualities, which I cannot exactly name——”
“I can,” sez I firmly; “I can name ’em.”
“If it were not for this to soften the friction of the machinery, society would break in pieces.”
“Then let it break into pieces,” sez I, “into a hundred pieces. But surely,” I sez, “there is such a thing as truth and frankness and simplicity and honor in the world, surely there are them that live their lives in a simple, honest way, not hidin’ or coverin’ up, nor pretendin’ to be what they are not, but jest go on from day to day and from year to year doin’ their best, not pretendin’ their best is any better than it is, and not pretendin’ that it is any worse (which is jest as wrong, though we don’t look at it in that light). Not awed by them above ’em in worldly wealth and station, thinkin’ how little one really can own in this life, not lookin’ down on them beneath ’em in worldly knowledge or wealth, thinkin’ how different God looks on different gifts from what we do, and thinkin’ mebby he counts wealth of heart more worthy than wealth of intellect. For that very reason havin’ no contempt for common people or common things, knowing’ well that what we call common He might call oncommon. The beggar mebby with his heart full of prophecy and hope beatin’ under his squalid rags, and the king like as not carryin’ his poor starved heart to a banquet with his royal robes trailin’ about him. We can’t see through these rags and robes always, and see what poverty or wealth they cover. So it is best to carry our heads and minds jest as straight and stiddy as we can, and doin’ our own duty we will have less time to either look up or down on our poor fellow mortals travelin’ along the road with us, we won’t have the time to pretend to like them when we don’t, to be overjoyed to see ’em when we hain’t, but will try to tell the truth with fear and tremblin’.”
Sez Tamer Ann, “Would you tell everybody right out blunt what you think of ’em?”
“No,” sez I firmly, “no, indeed! that would make the world too curious a place, that would make circuses and shows and curosities too common and frequent in our streets. Oh, no,” sez I, lookin’ pensively at Tamer Ann, who had begun to embroider agin fiercely, “I should hate to tell folks what I thought of ’em for even half an hour. And there is no need of it, everybody can mind their own bizness a good deal of the time, it don’t require much of any nack to keep your tongue between your teeth, and not tell what you think, to keep back things when it hain’t necessary to tell ’em.” Sez I reasonable, “It is hard to do oft times, but it is much better than to say a lot of things you don’t mean.”
Sez Tamer Ann, “Folks will git into places in this world where it is impossible to git out peaceable without wigglin’ round and deceivin’ a little.”
“There is always a open place above ’em,” sez I, “let ’em look for help there and they will git it, and,” sez I firmly, “I have always found that truth wuz the best to depend on in the long run even from a worldly point of view, to say nothin’ of right and wrong. It hain’t half so hard to keep kinder still and not talk a lot of trash you don’t mean, and at the same time it saves your breath to talk considerable about what you do like. And that I wuz always quite a case to do. I always seem to have to talk about folks and things that I like. The world is so full of beauty and goodness and glory, and power and grandeur and loveliness, you meet all the time folks so full of good qualities, things to admire and like, that it uses up my breath. I never seem to have any left to praise up things and folks I don’t like and look admirin’ at ’em, I don’t seem to have the time and breath even if I wanted to, which I don’t, Heaven knows.”
“Oh, well,” sez Tamer Ann, sithin’ deep, “it is so hard to know what to do, sometimes I think it is better to use a little deceit, if by doin’ so you can make folks feel agreeable, and make yourself and others happier.”
Sez I dryly, very dry, dry as chips, “I spoze that is how Jack felt, I spoze he felt that it would make you happier if he told you he had done what you sot him to do, and Jack had partly done it, as you know very well. I spoze he felt that it would make you and himself happier and the friction lighter on the wheels of society, and his poor little back, if he told you it wuz all done. But you didn’t seem to like it, and the friction wuz severe judgin’ from the groanin’s and screamin’s I heard from upstairs. But as long as you do the same thing yourself, Tamer Ann Allen, and teach Jack to do it, in the most powerful way, the way of example, you hadn’t ort to whip him. For that is one theme for which I have labored long and feel deeply, to not blame children for what we do ourselves and teach them to do.”
“Well,” sez Tamer, foldin’ up her embroidery, “it is time to put the teakettle on.” And she went out and shot the door middlin’ hard, but I didn’t care if she did, I had leaned against Duty and felt considerable calm in my frame.
She got a real good supper, and I a-settin’ out on the porch could hear her walk to and fro settin’ the table in the dining room, Arabeller bein’ out in the kitchen cookin’ sunthin’. And then it wuz I see that my talk to Tamer hadn’t struck in as I wanted it to, but I pacified myself by turnin’ my thoughts onto the needecessity of watchin’ after the seed is sown, and not be discouraged because it won’t spring up the same hour you put it into the soil. No, I felt (some of the time) that Tamer’s nater wuz kinder sandy soil, bein’ drained by her different diseases, and beat down on by the lurid glare of the climate she dwelt in most of the time, namely them foamin’, blood-curdlin’ novels of hern, and I ort to wait in patience, and as the Sam sez be willin’ to sow in season and out of season, hopin’ that some of it would spring up and bear good fruit.
Well, the reason of this simely wuz the eppisode I witnessed through the open winder between Tamer and poor little Jack. She wuz learnin’ him a lesson in Gography every day, and as he had run looser on account of company bein’ there, his lesson wuz belated and he wuz tired, but she had sent him after his little Gography and set him at it while she wuz settin’ the table. She told him to bound Bolivia. Jack wuz in one of his wild moods, he had ’em sometimes, restless, obstropulous moods, jest as we all have. Jack wuz standin’ up on two chairs in front of his Ma some like the Colossial Roads, I have heard Thomas J. read about.
In some things Hamen’s wife is real lax, laxer than I would be. I should have made Jack stand up in front of me, or set. But she didn’t mind, so he stood up with his feet on two chairs real defiant lookin’ and uppish. And he spoke out loud and firm, and sez he:
“I don’t like the word, Bolivia, Boliver is a good word, I will bound Boliver,” and he stood up firmer than ever and the chairs further apart, seemin’ly.
Sez Tamer, “Do you bound Bolivia.”
“Boliver,” sez Jack, “is bounded on the north by——”
“Bolivia!” sez Hamen’s wife.
“Boliver!” sez Jack firmly; “I like the word, and Boliver it shall be!” And Tamer of course couldn’t stand that, and so she had to whip him again, but I hearn him, as she dragged him upstairs, say kinder low, but jest so she could hear him, “Boliver.”
And she tusseled more than half an hour with him, and supper wuz belated, and she come down hot and wore out with her efforts to make him give up, and sez she, “He is such a hard child to manage, I can’t make him give up and say things right. Now, that child knew that Boliver wuzn’t the right word, but still he wuz bound to have his own way and say it as he wanted to.”
Then Duty gin me a real hard jog, I up and sez to her: “Children are great cases to foller example and do what they see done.”
“What under the sun do you mean?” sez she wonderin’ly.
“Why,” sez I, “this very mornin’ when you wuz bound and determined to call little Delight Tirzah, I told you that wuzn’t her name, but you said that it wuz a good name and you should call her so. I noticed Jack eyin’ us clost as if it wuz a new and agreeable idee, that folks could alter names if they wanted to, and,” sez I firmly, “Delight’s name is no more Tirzah than Bolivia is Boliver!”
“Oh, well,” sez Tamer, “that is of no consequence at all. What I do and what Jack can do is two.”
“Yes,” sez I solemnly, “and it may turn out to be more than two in the end.”
Sez she coldly, “I don’t know what you mean.” And to tell the truth, I don’t really know as I knew myself, but it made a kinder good endin’ to our talk. But as anybody can see Jack wuzn’t a mite to blame in the Boliver affair, he is naturally very conscientious, if they only knew enough to appreciate it, he always wants to fix things jest right even in his play. I remember one time when I wuz stayin’ there over Sunday he gin a remarkable instance of it.
Tamer wuz strict, I must say, about not lettin’ Jack play games on Sunday, and he wuz good about mindin’, but I spoze he hankered after playin’ sunthin’ when the time hung too heavy on his hands, and, like older folks, he wanted a change. He had one Bible game that Tamer let him play, but I spoze he had got tired of it, and then the names wuz dretful tegus to keep the run on—Nebuchadnezer, Melchizedec, Mephilboseth—good land! they wuz hard for grown folks to git right. Hamen and his brother, John, wuz great cases to play cards evenin’s, and Jack had a game that he played with ’em some like authors. I had played it myself with him sometimes week-day evenin’s, and Jack come to me that Sunday evenin’ and sez: “Aunt Samantha, why can’t we play a Bible game with cards?”
And I sez, “I don’t see how you could fix it so as to play a Bible game with ’em.”
And he sez, “Well, you can call the two spot Jacob, and I can call for it, and we can call the ten spot Paul, or the Jack, and you can call for him.”
And I sez, “I would hate to call such a good man as Paul the Jack.”
“Well,” sez he, “we could call the king Paul, and the queen Mary.”
But I talked him offen the idee, it didn’t seem right to me somehow. But he wuz honest and likely about it and didn’t mean no harm, and at the best it wuz only tryin’ to reconcile science and religion, or religion and fashion, as so many do, holdin’ the world in one hand and religion in the other, and tryin’ to carry ’em both stiddy. But Hamen and John laughed like two big gump heads about it, and the next evenin’ when they wuz playin’ they would call the two spot “Jacob” every time, and look at Jack and laugh till I felt that it wuz enough to make him swing right out and play cards Sunday, and not try to reconcile it with goodness and religion. But Tamer, when she found out about it, whipped him severe, she said it wuz irreverent and she wouldn’t have it. And that wuz jest the way it wuz the hull durin’ time.
Well, we didn’t stay but a day or two after the Boliver affair. Josiah felt that he must be to home, so we went, Tamer promisin’ Jack, who cried hard when we started, that he might come down and stay several days with us in a week or so, when she went to see Aunt Mary John she would leave him there and then stop and git him on her way home.