"How holy the calm, in the stillness of morn,"-
and threw down my paper, being suddenly quenched by self-ridicule, as I was debating whether to write "To Ethelind" over the top. Returning that way after my ramble, I found the following conclusion pinned to the tree by a jackknife:-
"How holy the calm, in the stillness of morn,-
When to call 'em to breakfast Josh toots on the horn,
The ducks gives a quack, and the caow gives a moo,
And the childen chimes in with their plaintive boo-hoo.
"How holy the calm, in the stillness of neune,
When the pot is a singin its silvery teune,-
Its soft, woolly teune, jest like Aribi's Darter,
While the tea-kettle plays up the simperny arter.
"How holy the calm, in the stillness of night,
When the moon, like a punkin, looks yaller and bright;
While the aowls an' the katydids, screeching like time,
Jest brings me up close to the eend o' my rhyme."
And underneath was added, as if in scorn of my fruitless endeavor:-
"I wrote that are right off, as fast as you could shell corn. S.P."
I suppose it is by way of thanks for my having driven the pigs from the garden, that I find a great bunch of dahlias adorning my mantelpiece. A brown earthen pitcher! And in the middle of the dahlias, a magnificent sunflower! It must be my aunt's doing, and its very homeliness pleases me, just as I love her homely sincerity of affection. Who arranges the glasses in the parlor? Etty, I would not fear to affirm, from the asters and golden-rod, cheek by jole with petunias and carnations. I wonder if she would not like some of the clematis I saw twining about a dead tree by the pond. It is more beautiful in its present state than when it was in flower. Etty loves wild flowers because she is one herself, and loves to hide here in her native nook, where no eye (I might except my own) gives her more than a casual glance.-
Noon. "I shall think it quite uncivil of Little Ugly if she does not volunteer to arrange my share of the booty I am bringing, now that I have almost broken my neck, and quite my cane, to obtain it." This I said to myself, as I came into the house by the kitchen entrance, and proceeded to deposit my trailing treasures on Norah's table, by the side of a yellow squash.
"Do go with me to Captain Black's," said Etty's voice at the side door. "The old folks have not seen you since your return."
"I can't!" said Flora with a drawl.
"Yes, do! Be coaxable, for once!"
"It only makes me obstinate to coax. Why not go without me, I beg?"
"I am no novelty. I was in twice only yesterday. Old people like attention from such as you, because-"
"Because it is unreasonable to expect it."
"The old man is failing."
"I can't do him any good. It is dusty, and my gown is long."
"It would please him to see you. I went to sit with him yesterday, but Timothy Digfort came in, with the same intent. So I went to church, having walked in the graveyard till the bell rang."
"Owl that you are! I don't envy you the lively meditations you must have had. Why don't you go? It's of no use waiting for me."
"What! Will you let me carry both these baskets?"
"There, put the little one on the top of the other. I don't think three or four peaches and a few flowers can add much to the weight. It is tiresome enough to do what I don't want to do, when it is really necessary."
And Little Handsome danced into the parlor, without perceiving me. I laid a detaining hand on Etty's basket as she put herself in motion, on which she turned round with a look of unfeigned astonishment.
"May I not be a substitute for Flora?" I inquired.
"I do not require any aid," said Miss Etty shyly. "It is not on that account I was urging Flora. Please to let me have the basket.-Indeed, it is quite unnecessary you should trouble yourself," she insisted, as I persevered in carrying off my load.
"It is the old red house, is it not?" said I, "with the roof sloping almost to the ground. And shall I say that you sent this? A view of my strange phiz will not refresh the old people like the sight of Flora's fresh young face, but I shall go in, and make the agreeable as well as I can."
"Are you really in earnest?" asked Etty, looking full in my face, with a smile of wonder that made her radiantly beautiful. She turned away blushing at my surprised and eager gaze, and, taking up her little basket, joined me, without a word of answer on my part. It was some time before I quite recovered from a strange flurry of spirits, which made my heart bump very much as it does when I hear any unexpected good news. And then I dashed away upon the subject of old age, and any thing else that came uppermost, in the hope of drawing the soul-lighted eyes to mine again, with that transfiguring smile playing upon the lips.
But I was like an unskilful magician; I had lost the spell; I could not again discover the spring I had touched. In vain I said to myself, "I'll make her do it again!" Little Ugly would'nt!
She answered my incoherent sallies in her usual sedate manner, and I believe it was only in my imagination that her cheek dimpled a little, with a heightened color, now and then, when I was particularly eloquent.
Introduced by Miss Etty, I was cordially welcomed. I am always affected by the sight of an aged woman who at all reminds me of the grandmother so indulgent to my prankful boyhood. The old man, too, interested me; he has seen much of the world, in his seafaring life, and related his adventures in a most unhackneyed style. I'll go and see them every day. One of the Captain's anecdotes was very good. "An old salt," he said, "once-once-" Bah, what was it? How very lovely Etty looked, sitting on a cricket at the old woman's feet, and, with a half smile on her face, submitting her polished little head to be stroked by her trembling hands! This I saw out of the corner of my eye.
Hark! Aunt Tabitha's call to dinner. I am glad of it. I was scribbling such nonsense, when I have so much to write better worth while.
12 o'clock. The night is beautiful, and it is a piece of self-denial to close the shutter, light my lamp, and write in my journal. Peace of mind came yesterday, positive happiness to-day, neither of which I can analyze. I only know I have not been so thoroughly content since the acquisition of my first jackknife; nor so proud since the day when I first sported a shining beaver. I have conquered Etty's distrust; she has actually promised me her friendship. I am rather surprised that I am so enchanted at this triumph over a prejudice. I am hugely delighted. Not because it is a triumph, however;-vanity has nothing to do with it. It is a worthier feeling, one in which humility mingles with a more cordial self-respect than I have hitherto been conscious of. I can, and I will, deserve Etty's good opinion. She is an uncompromising judge, but I will surprise her by going beyond what she believes me capable of. I never had a sister; I shall adopt Etty, and when I go home, we will write every week, if not every day.
But how came it all about? By what blessed sunbeams can the ice have been softened, till now, as I hope, it is broken up for ever? People under the same roof cannot long mistake each other, it seems, else Etty and I should never have become friends.
As we left the door of Captain Black's house, and turned into the field path to avoid the dust, Etty said, "I do not know whether you care much about it, but you have given pleasure to these good old people, who have but little variety in their daily routine, being poor, and infirm, and lonely. It is really a duty to cheer them up, if we can." I felt that it warmed my heart to have shared that duty with her, and I said so. I thought she looked doubtful and surprised. It was a good opening for egotism, and I improved it. I saw that she was no uninterested listener, but all along rather suspicious and incredulous, as if what I was claiming for myself was inconsistent with her previous notions of my disposition. I believe I had made some little impression Saturday night, but her old distrust had come back by Sunday morning. Now she was again shaken.