A Gathering of Days: Chapters 12–14

Uncle Jack left soon thereafter, saying that he had “much to do,” and firmly refusing our Father’s entreaties to reconsider and stay.

Open V’s at throat and back, and well-shaped bodices tightly tucked, were never meant for farm work, or the country life.

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.

By these means the view will apparently recede from the eye and will have a very striking effect.

This implement dangles brightly from a new birch ruler, bought for her, by means of a flaxen string.

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

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

“But what can you have in mind?” I asked, her words being so outlandish that they caught me unaware.

“Come,” she said with an effort to be brisk.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The stricture to be home by dark—which so shortens our Winter visits—hardly touches us now.

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.

He’d heard reports of burns, one maiming, through misfired explosions.

We hear they are having difficulty to raise the money to complete the Bunker Hill monument! Solicitations have been made, but fall short of the mark.

Mr. Webster had given a rousing speech, as he was expected to do, being well known for declaiming.

“You know I love it no less than you,” she retorted hotly. “Still must I believe there exist other means to show our joy than those which cost us human life year after year after year.”

Mrs. Preston, the miller’s wife, is very pimpled and stout.

Mammann says that is very short-sighted; while Father reminds us with serious voice, “For harvest and good bounty one ought give naught but thanks. Were I your teacher, Catherine,” he says, “I’d have you write that out.”

Her cheeks have become as ruddy as mine, despite the bonnet she wears out of doors; and all but forgetting the demands of style, she pins up her hair like a farmer’s wife and bares her arms to the elbow.

Teacher Orpha sometimes permits the conduct of school out of doors. On these days we convene near the tree, the littlest ones gathering close to her, and some times, even, one of the babes will lay his head in her lap.

Then does the droning of our voices rival that of the somnolent bees while off to one side, the more wakeful infants intone their little verses, and their abc’s.

Then does the droning of our voices rival that of the somnolent bees while off to one side, the more wakeful infants intone their little verses, and their abc’s.

We all move slowly in the heat, having still our chores to do, but secretly wishing like the tabby-cats we might lie out in repose.

Our arms, before the day was done, were criss-cross’d with welts and scratches.

Again has Cassie taken a turn that may be for the worse. We hear that her mother resigns herself, and thus maintains composure.

She had got herself composed, plaited her hair and pulled it tight, and looped it behind her ears.

Cassie, they say, is much recovered, despite our apprehension.

I saw today that the lower field, the one that borders the road to the North, is filled with laden bushes.

For Alice my wife, the Plague of my life
Has sent me to beg—a boon of thee!

In secret did I remember, then, that I myself had oft longed for wealth without the dint of labour.