quality folks to eat cooked up before- cloth is a sure sign; I never knew it to hand." fail." The mother turned sharply on the offending Hannah Maria, who sat meekly awaiting the onset. "That's just like you, Hannah Maria; you're always doin' whole house full of company without a minute's warnin', when there aint enough cooked up in the house for a church mouse to make a meal on, let alone the preacher of the sacred gospil an' the girl he's a goin' to marry. Now do you go right out an' start up a rousin' fire. Are they most here, Mary Ann ?" While these remarks were being interjected, she was clearing up the room in a most desperate and bewildered manner, hanging up garments and pulling them down again, putting things away in draw-jist such kerless tricks, an' bringin' in a ers and cupboards, and then drawing them out again. From a table drawer she took a collar, pinned it on awry, and put a clean apron on over the dirty one. Granny came in for a fresh cap, and a little black shawl silk with scanty fringe was exchanged for the piece of checked flannel she generally wore over her shoulders. Again and again she polished Mary Ann's visage, and warned and admonished her. "Now Granny, what shall I git for supper? Don't forgit your manners, Mary Ann, and make a very low courtesy to the lady. Hannah Maria, you must go out an' build up a fire as soon as you've passed the time o' day. O, I never was so flustrated in my hull life!" "Now, Sarah Jane," answered Granny, as mildly as the day itself, "don't worrit so, an' git out o' breath an' heart. There's the cold beans you can warm up, and that custard pie 'll do to cut into eight pieces, an' the children can wait. If you want any chicken fixens, you might kill that old yaller rooster; he's six years old, an' he'll never be any tenderer. Git me my Sunday reticule; I should like to have the young lady see it ;" and from that wonderful drawer was drawn forth a venerable work-bag, embroidered on canvas in impossible cats and dogs, with " a verse or two of Scripture, all done by her own hand when not twelve years old," as Granny afterwards solemnly assured the astonished young lady. The reticule being adjusted to her mind, Granny recalled an occurrence of the morning. "I jist felt it in my bones that somebody was a comin' to-day, when the stick fell over the andirons; and then I was certain when Hannah Maria dropped her dishcloth on the floor when she was a washin' up the dinner dishes. The dish Hannah Maria hastened to the kitchen, not waiting to hear Granny's admonitions to "shet the oven and fill the tea-kettle up to the top," while Mary Ann announced that "he was a-cleanin' of his feet at the bars, an' she was a-standin' lookin' on.” "Well then, father, you an Granny must make Gran'pap understand that the preacher aint married yit. He does ask such aggravatin' questions !" ear Up to this moment father had set as serenely as the full moon, but now he and Granny began tugging at the old man's sleeves, and each getting an simultaneously, yelled at him the required explanations. The old man rubbed his head, shoved up his spectacles, looked at them in amazement, and finally said, "Yis, John, you needn't yell at me that way till your face is so red. I aint deaf. I heard every word you said. I know you married my darter Sarah Jane. She was a nice, likely gearl, an' Granny and I give her a fust rate settin' out. There was a cow an' calf, a yerlin' steer, a pig, six chickens an' a rooster, an' you had a one-hoss wagon too, besides a barrel full of linen sheets, an' towels, an' bed-quilts an' them kind o' things. Now you can afford to keep me an' Granny, an' feed us well." "Do make him understand," pleaded the mother; so Granny and father yelled at him again, till my own ears ached. "I'll luk out o' the front winder an' see when they rap," remarked mother. "It's a shame that we haint taken the listen' out o' the front door, an' got that open this spring. Now they'll heve to come through the kitchen," and she disappeared, and presently came in leading by the hand a stylishly dressed young lady, who looked as though she accepted the situation, and was trying to restrain a laugh. The preacher was one of those stiff, pokerish young men, evidently more absorbed just then in his fair companion than in pastoral visiting. As soon as they came in Granny arose, as if in utter astonishment to see them, and on being introduced, made a very low courtesy, with this most felicitous compliment: You do me proud to come and see me;" and then she introduced her to Grandpap. "This is Miss Hinds, Grandpap. Call him colonel, Miss, he likes to be called the colonel;" and after some handshaking all around, and many "Howdo-you-dos," they were seated, when the mother bethought her to bring up Mary Ann, who had been up to this time twisting one corner of her apron, with her finger in her mouth. She advanced very unwillingly, but her mother kept charging in the rear, till she stood before the young lady. "This is my little Mary Ann-now make your manners;" and in order to produce the desired “courtesy," | she pressed down the child's shoulders till poor Mary Ann lost her balance, and made a low salaam instead of the courtesy, and while her mother was apologizing, she managed to escape. As a stranger I had no part to take in this family meeting with their pastor, except to take notes, as mother apologized for the room, the shut-up front door, the dress she had on, the supper that she was to get for them, and so forth; but finally she withdrew to the kitchen, occasionally coming in to make some fresh apology or some remark about the weather. Then was Granny's moment. The preacher and father were talking of the weather and crops; Grandpap had dozed off, when Granny began: "That there's Sarah Jane, my only daughter. She do worrit about things a good deal. She married John nigh unto sixteen years ago, an' she makes John step round. What did you say your first name was, Miss Hinds?" "Elizabeth, but at home they call me Lizzie." "Yis, Elizabeth; that was my grandmother's name, but they always called her Betsey. I 'spose you've no objections to my callin' you Betsey?" "No, madam," answered the girl. Well, I always did set great store by the name of Betsey; it's such a good, oldfashioned Bible name; not one of these new-fangled ones. It always makes me think of my gran'mother, she that was Betsey Spillman; I 'spose you've often heerd of the Spillmans in Pennsylvania?" "No, I can't say that I ever did." "Indeed! it's a great pity you didn't. They were a first family, an' had lots o' blood in 'em. I always felt set up to come from 'em. You've lost a great deal by not knowin' the Spillmans," sighed the old lady, while Miss Hinds expressed profound sorrow at her ignorance of the Spillman genealogy and antecedents. Just then Grandpapa roused up and asked, "What's the news from the war? Have we licked them agin?" The preacher assured him that the war was over years ago, and father and Granny simultaneously explained. "Well, I'm glad we've licked the Britishers agin. I fit in three battles my own self, an' I was so brave they made me a corporal. I never got but one scratch, an' that was when the limb of a tree fell on my head as I was a ridin' through the woods, with a red coat after me," and the gray head dropped on the cane again; and after many profuse apologies, the conversation between the father and preacher turned on crops again, and Granny, looking around for some new topic of interest, was attracted by the young lady's dress, which I had observed her slyly feeling of before. "Well now, Betsey, that goods is real delightsome to the feel. It don't seem to me to touch like bombazine-what do the store folks call it, if I might be so bold?" "It is a worsted rep." "Well, these boughten things do mostly look and feel better to the touch than homespun. How much did you say it cost?" "It was a dollar a yard." "You don't say! Seems to me that's very costive! I 'spose you hardly expect to git any more such for a good while. If you was to save it for a meetin' gownd, it would last you years. I 'spose it's alike on both sides," and to satisfy her mind on that point she lifted the skirt till she could examine it above the facing on the wrong side. "Yis," she exclaimed, triumphantly, "it's alike, an' you kin turn it to'ther side out and to ther end up, and back side before, an' make it last twice as long. I think it would take a good brown or black, when you want to dye it; you might have it first a brown, and then a black--that would be good as three dresses. I've got some real good recipes for colorin', an' I'd be willin' to help you about it;" and she gave her rules as to dipping and airing, and washing and drying, to the bewildered young lady, who listened as if deeply absorbed. When through, the old lady drew a long breath. "A dollar a yard, you said. Well, I don't 'spose I ever had a dress that cost so much, or ever shall as long as I live in this world," with an emphasis on "this," as if she expected she might have one in another world. That completely upset Miss Hinds' gravity, but fortunately Grandpapa woke arain, with this question, "How many did you say was killed in the last battle, Mr. Preacher ?" The preacher solemnly assured him again that the war was over, and father added his explanations. "Sixty-three, did you say? Well, that's a power o' men! If we kill 'em off at that rate every day there won't be any redcoats left," and with great chuckles of de light Grandpap laid his finger beside his nose and dropped his head on his cane. At this juncture Mary Ann appeared on the scene, and pulling Granny by the sleeve, announced this fact very audibly : "The old rooster's went an' hid under the barn, an' we're goin' to have some of Zerubbabel's young chickings fried for supper-I'm so glad;" and having said her say, she was willing to obey her irate grandmother and go to the kitchen, from whence there was already coming the savory fragrance of supper-getting in the country. Sarah Jane do spile her children so !" sighed the old lady to the younger one. She don't train 'em up in the way they should go, and she does buy them a power of things. Hannah Maria's got two good meetin' dresses, an' her mother's talkin' of gittin' her another that's goin' to cost three an' six a yard. I tell Sarah Jane she'd better let her knit footins' for it, 'an buy it for herself; but la! she won't. An' she'll put it right on to go a visitin' in, an' wear it out trifling round, an' it'll be gone in two or three year. It aint the way I used to do when I was a gearl!" Again Grandpap revived, and for the first time seemed conscious of Miss Hinds' presence. Pointing at her with his cane, he asked, "Who did you say that there young woman was, Mr. Preacher?" The young man introduced her again, and she kindly went forward and shook hands with him. "She's a likely lookin' gearl-did you say she was your wife?" The preacher, in much confusion, denied his being married; the young lady blushed painfully, and father and Granny did their best to explain to the poor old man, who dropped his head soon again, and restored quiet. "As I was a sayin', Betsey, you haven't got a middle name, have you, like Ann, or something of that kind?" "No," answered the persecuted "Betsey." "Well, I do feel sorry for you not to, for it would come much easier to me to say "labor question" can never be known, for Grandpap started up again, and pointed his cane at the young lady. "Did you say that there woman was your wife?" The preacher denied; the father and Granny shrieked in both ears, but it was of no use. "How old did you say she was?" Covered with blushes, the embarrassed young man denied all knowledge of her age. Betsey Ann; but as I was a sayin', Sarah Jane do spile Hannah Maria badly. She got John to buy her a music-box the other day, one that opens and shuts up, a macordeon, they call it. I'll git it," and she disappeared and soon returned triumphant from the " spare room" with a box in her hand, from which she drew an accordeon. "There, maybe you never see one like it where you come from, but it's a macordeon, an' cost five dollars an' fifty-three cents, an' Hannah Maria can't play a single tune on it yit. Maybe you can play on it, Betsey." "No madam, I never learned." "Well, you looks like one o' them kind as plays on the piranner-a kind of big shiny box on legs that folks sits right up to, and touches off on white ivory things. Deacon Dodd's folks have got one." The pause was decidedly awkward, but "Yes, I can play on the piano," an- Granny adroitly changed the subject by swered the girl. "Well, I thought as much when I first set eyes on you. I don't 'spose you could spin, if you was to try. When I was a girl I could spin two days' work, an' do the milkin' besides. Now Betsey, don't you really think that in the day of reckonin' you'd be better abler to give up your account if, instead of spendin' your time larnin' to make music out of a box, you'd a learned to spin, an' do something real useful to the world?" By this time the preacher had become aware that a sort of private sermon was being read off to his fiancée, and as he seemed to be attentive to her, the old lady turned to him. "I've bin' askin' Betsey, here, if she don't think that she'll wish some day that she'd put in her time learnin' to spin, an' such like things, instead of playing the piranner?" The preacher defended his Dulcina, assuring the old lady that machinery, nowa-days, did the work of forty women of the olden time, and did it better and cheaper. "Yis, an' so they take the bread out o' poor people's mouths, and the clothes off their backs," sighed Granny; and how deeply they might have gone into the vexed "Forty years-you don't say she's that old!" exclaimed the astonished old man. And leaning forward, he viewed her attentively. "You haven't lost none of your teeth yit, have you, miss? I had to have three pulled before I was forty. When I was in the war I got the toothache—and, and"-then he fell asleep again. saying that she "didn't think Betsey In vain had Granny tried to check this flow of family confidence, and she was scarcely out of hearing before Zerubbabel himself came in, and began: "I say, where is mother, Granny? Hannah Maria's gone and killed three of my February chickins, an' I jest won't stan' it." "Don't you see the preacher, Zerubbabel, and this young lady here? Make your manners this minute," and Zerubbabel was forced into a bow that nearly dislocated his neck, by reason of his grandmother's clutching his back hair and bending his head forward, and then bringing it back with a jerk. Only too glad to leave, he went out muttering, "I'll pay her for that," referring to Hannah Maria's act, and not his Granny's discipline, to which I had already found out the whole family submitted without thought of complaint. "The broughtin' up of Sarah Jane's children is awful," said the old lady; "if I didn't jest urge their manners onto 'em, they wouldn't have any." "How's your family, Mr. Preacher? Childurn all well?" asked Grandpap, rousing up suddenly, and tugging at the young man's coat-sleeve. "He aint married-he haint got no children, Gran'pap," said the father, and the embarrassed preacher murmured something to the same effect. "All down with the measles! You don't say! I like to died with 'em; but they give me a power of saffron tea, and that brought 'em out, but it made me yaller my complect sometimes looks yaller yet. Give them saffron, I say;" and he nodded his head, repeating" saffron tea, saffron tea," till he was asleep again. "John," said the old lady, "I've been telling this here Betsey as how you'd been, an' bought a macordeon for Hannah Maria, an' I was a wishin' she could play on it." "Yes, yes, I wish she could; it cost me over five dollars in clean, hard cash, an' somehow Hannah Maria has never got the hang of it yit. I guess taint wound up right. Does she know how to play?" referring to Miss Hinds. The preacher said "No" for her, but suggested that she could sing sweetly, whereupon they asked her to sing, and she began "Home, sweet home." "Grandpap will hear that," said the old lady fondly, quite unmindful of the rudeness of the interruption; "he always hears singin', and pricks up his ears when any body's singin'-see now," and she poked Betsey with her elbow to call attention to the waking-up of the old gentleman, who commenced beating time with his cane, feet and head. "That do sound sweet-lovely," said the old lady when the song was ended; "it makes me think of a tune I used to sing in my young and handsome days. But I suppose my voice is cracked now, though I used to could sing like a syrrup," (she meant seraph.) On being urged she sang in a tremulous, cracked quaver, an old tune, but before she was half through Grandpap broke in "I'm powerful glad we licked them there Britishers. I can give you a war-song," and with a voice like a trumpet, he sang an old song familiar in the days of the war of eighteen hundred and twelve; there were at least a dozen verses, and a chorus to each, but he gave the whole, and the applause of his audience gave him as much satisfaction as did the announcement of "Supper's ready, an' mother says, you every one come out before it gits cold," did to me, who was tired and hungry, and ready for the fried chicken, the custard pie, and the half dozen other good things that mother had provided; a supper good enough for any "quality folks." At Granny's suggestion that "all jest lay to an' help yourselves," we did so, and all passed off, with but few embarrassing interruptions from Grandpap, who, from between his chicken-bones, once or twice asked the preacher "how many children he had," "if his wife did the milkin'," and added more advice on the saffron tea-question. After supper, the elder members of the family adjourned to the front-yard and farm, the ladies to look over the flowers and poultry, the men the all-absorbing "crops." But Grandpap soon hobbled off by himself to the garden, and with his cane poked around among the beds of sage, caraway, sweet marjoram, and thyme; after a time he came back and went to the shed chamber, where I could hear him rustling papers and dry herbs, with mutterings about Granny and Sarah Jane. But by the time the preacher and Miss Hinds had shaken hands all round, and said "good-evening" to each other, mingled with numberless invitations to come again and feel to home," "to excuse the poor supper," and so forth, ad infinitum, |