When I first remember them, they were old, or at least they seemed old to me. They had a little farm not far from our home; and I 221sometimes used to go down the dusty road to their house for eggs, butter, and buttermilk. Aunt Mary was famed throughout the region for the fine butter she made; and, either from taste or imagination, I was so fond of it that I would eat no other kind.
Aunt Mary lived in a two-story white house with a wing on one side. In front was a fence, so often that it fairly shone. Two large elm-trees stood just outside the fence, and a little gate opened for the from the road, and next to this were bars that could be taken down to let teams drive in and out. In the front yard were a number of trees trimmed in such a way as to leave a large green ball on top. A door and several windows were in the front of the house, and another door and more windows on the side next the wing, which was mainly used for a woodshed and summer kitchen. A little path ran from the gate to the side door, and this was covered with large flat stones, which were kept so clean that they were almost spotless. There was no path running to the front door, although two stone steps led down to the ground. The house was always white, as if freshly painted the day before. Each of the windows had outside (which we called blinds), and these were painted blue. I well remember these shutters, for all the others that I had ever seen were painted green, and I wondered why everyone did not know that blue was much the most beautiful color for blinds. The front door was never opened, and the front shutters were always tightly closed. Whenever any of us went to the house, we knew that we must go to the side door. If perchance a stranger knocked at the front door, Aunt Mary would come around the corner of the house and ask him to come to the kitchen.
Through all the country Aunt Mary was known for her “neatness.” This had grown to a disease, the ruling passion of her life. It was never easy to get any of the other boys to go with me to Aunt Mary’s when I went for butter. None of them liked her, and they all knew that she did not care for them. I remember that when I first used to go there she would meet me at the side door and ask me to stay out in the yard or go into the woodshed while she got the butter or eggs. Then she would bring me a lump of sugar or a fried cake 223(which she called a nut-cake) made from boiled in lard, and which was very fine, especially when fresh and hot, and tell me not to get any on the stone steps or on the woodshed floor. Sometimes Uncle Ezra would come in from the barn or fields while I was there, and he always seemed to be kind and friendly, and would take me out to the pigpen while he poured the pails of into the trough. I used to think it great sport to see the rushing and shoving and tumbling over each other, and in the trough to get all the swill they could. None of them ever seemed to have enough, or to care whether the others had their share of swill or not. I shall always feel that I learned a great deal about human nature by Uncle Ezra feed his hogs.
Uncle Ezra was a man who said but little. I never found him in the house; he was always out on the farm, or in the barn, or sometimes in the woodshed. This seemed the nearest that he ever came to the house. Uncle Ezra was a short man with a bald head and a round face. He had white whiskers and a little fringe of white hair around his head. He had no teeth, at least none that I can remember to have seen. He was slightly stooping, and was from ; and he wore a round black hat, and a brown coat buttoned tightly around his waist, and trousers made of some sort of brown drilling, and almost always rubber boots. In the woodshed he kept another pair of trousers and clean boots, which he put on when he went into the house to get his meals, or after it was too late to stay outside. I never heard him joke or laugh, or say anything angry or unkind. He always of Aunt Mary as “the old woman,” and showed no feeling or emotion of any sort in connection with her. Whenever he was asked about any kind of business, he directed inquirers to “the old woman.”
Aunt Mary was tall and thin and very straight. Her hair was white, and done up in a knot on the back of her head. It seems as if she wore a sort of striped calico dress, and an over this. No doubt she sometimes wore other clothes; but she has made her impression on my memory in this way. Poor thing! like all the rest of the mortals who ever lived and died, she doubtless tried to make the best impression she could, and at some fateful time this image was cast upon my mind, and there it stayed forever, and gets printed in a book,—the only one that ever held her name. The real person may have been very different indeed, and the fault have been not at all with her, but with the poor substance on which the shadow fell.
I can remember Aunt Mary only in one particular way; and when her name is called, and she steps out from the dim, almost forgotten past, I see the tall, spare old woman, with two or three long teeth and a wisp of snow-white hair, and a dress with stripes running up and down, making her seem even taller and thinner than she really was. I see her, through the side door which opened from the room which was kitchen, dining-room, and living-room combined. I am a barefooted child standing on the stone steps outside, and looking in through the open door. I am slowly and at a delicious nut-cake, and wondering if there are any more where that one came from, and if she will bring me another when this is eaten up, and thinking that if I really knew she would I need not make this one last so long. Almost opposite the door 226stands the cooking-stove. I can see it now, with its two short legs in front, and its two tall ones in the back. There is the sliding , used to regulate the
Join or Log In!
You need to log in to continue reading
(Left Keyword <-) Previous:
CHAPTER XVIII BASE-BALL
Back
Next:
CHAPTER XX FERMAN HENRY
(Right Keyword:->)