THE REJECTED WIFE.

This year, which crowns your married life with a “golden wedding,” many a tribute of love will be offered for your acceptance, both in recognition of your feminine merits, and of the name you have so long honored in bearing. But no proof of affection can be rendered to you that will represent more sincere regard or profound respect than this simple dedication.

October 17th, 1863.

CHAPTER I. THE FARM-HOUSE IN COMMOTION—EXPECTED GUESTS—PARLOR AND KITCHEN.

More than ninety years ago, what is now the city of Norwich was a thriving village scattered over one of the most picturesque hills in the world. Its wildness and its beauty forming a picture one might well go back a century or so to look at; for civilization is most lovely when it improves nature without enslaving and plundering it. Thus, the picturesque log-cabins, and the aspiring frame houses on their natural terraces overlooking each other,—some peeping out upon unreclaimed rocks, others embowered in trees, and all wildly irregular,—were a thousand times more attractive than the cultivation and stately wealth of the present city, which is even now among the most beautiful in our country.

There was not much inland navigation in those days; but now and then a sloop spread its white sails on the Thames below the village, while canoes and rude boats were abundant on the Yantic and the Shetucket. Along the rich valley which lies on the northwest, farms were scattered, and to a considerable extent the wilderness was 26cut away. The dwellings, so far as the land permitted, were gathered in close neighborhood, out of which first a scattering village, and now a city has sprung. But the cove, which sets up to the mouth of the Yantic, was surrounded by one unbroken mass of trees. Here and there the blue smoke curled up from some newly-built cabin in a clearing of the forest. The Yantic River, which plunges its wild body of waters into the head of the cove, through rocks, over precipices, and down chasms, foaming and rioting with eager haste to overtake and outleap the Shetucket in a race for the sea, had been forced to yield some of its rioting waters for the use of a grist-mill, with its slow stones that moaned over their task of a few bushels

each day. Below this a saw-mill sent its hoarse music into the dash of the waters, which leaped by, shouting back a mellow defiance, that rang through the old forest-trees day and night, as they sing and laugh at the present moment.

Two log-cabins stood back in the woods. Into one the miller took his toll at night: and the other was inhabited by the man that attended the saw-mill. In those days, when two log-cabins stood within sight of each other, they were likely to constitute a village and receive a name; but with a grist-mill and saw-mill within hearing, of course this was imperative; so the miller and his neighbor held a town-meeting between themselves and baptized the beautiful spot Yanticville.

Down among the farm-houses, on the plain, stands to this day a large frame house, with a broad, gabled roof and heavy chimneys. Two or three old trees droop around it, and a substantial fence, half stone, and completed with rails, encloses it from the highway. Even now the house possesses that air of substantial comfort 27which is the characteristic of almost all Connecticut dwellings; but in the last century it was a very superior building indeed, and bespoke the growing prosperity which had followed the Norwich settlement from its foundation.

The ambition of every farmer in those days was to convert his log cabin into a stable, and give evidence of thrift in a frame house. Sometimes it was years before this house received its entire finish, but stood an imposing shell, with a net-work of lath on the walls waiting for plaster, while no room but the kitchen was thoroughly made comfortable.

This house was no exception to the general rule. The hoarded savings that had erected it gave out when the exterior was completed, and for years the good couple lived in a large kitchen and bedroom in winter, contenting themselves with a broader range of fine airy apartments from spring to autumn, when the unfinished state of their dwelling was rather an advantage than otherwise. They had a growing family, and so put off finishing the house till gray hairs came thick on their temples, and their only son had gone forth into the world to get his own living. There had for three months been great confusion in this house. The sound of hammers, the grating of trowels had made their harsh music; then the low, soft sweep of whitewash brushes, completed everything. Almost thirty years after its foundations were laid, Mr. Arnold’s house had received its finishing touches.

And why was all this haste after such patient waiting? Why was the good housewife so busy upon her knees, nailing down home-made carpets, or, with both arms uplifted, rolling up paper blinds at the windows? Why was that fair young girl, with meek, brown eyes, so earnest in her attendance on the mother, holding the little plate of 28carpet-tacks, and helping with her pretty brown hands to stretch the stubborn fabric to its place?

Why, it was the day but one before Thanksgiving, when all those members of the family who had wandered beyond that valley were to meet again under the gable-roof and have a grand holiday. That only son, of whom the mother was so proud, and a guest or two of foreign blood, who, fond of adventure, had come to see the grandeur of that New World which was soon to claim a place among nations,—were expected at the homestead.

The carpet was down in the south room, and the green and red stripes shone out splendidly. Many a long month had Mrs. Arnold and her daughter toiled at the great wheel, the dye-tub, and the loom, before the admired fabric was completed, and they both felt all the sweet consciousness of creation to its full extent. Tall, wooden chairs, with backs bent inward like a bow, and divided longitudinally with small, round bars, and seats curved like a scroll, stood primly against the white wall. A looking-glass, with a fan-like ornament of carved mahogany on each end of the frame, and surmounted at the top with a gilt eagle, gleamed grandly between the two front windows. A long, mahogany table, bright as the mirror, stood under it, with each claw-foot grasping a ball, and long, deep leaves rounded down to the floor. Opposite this was a high “chest o’ drawers,” each drawer bulging out, and sinking in like a scroll, with picturesque brass handles shining brightly up and down the front. This elaborate piece of furniture reached from the floor to the

ceiling, where it ended in a carved shell,—a wondrous work of art, for which, as a piece of worldly vanity, Mrs. Arnold wished to be forgiven in her prayers, but still regarded with complacency when she observed its effect on the best room.

29“There now, I think every thing is in order here,” said Mrs. Arnold, dropping the linsey-woolsey apron with which she had been polishing the table. “They might come to-day for any thing we should care. Dear me! here is a spot on the andirons,” and down she went upon her knees, rubbing the tall, brass andiron with both hands till drops of perspiration hung on her forehead.

“No, no: that is a bruise,—it will never come out,” said Hannah. “Don’t you remember when brother made it throwing his hammer, one day when he hurt his fingers cracking walnuts?”

Mrs. Arnold stopped, gazed down a moment upon the dent with gentle thoughtfulness, and arose from her knees.

“Yes,” she said, with a sigh; “I haven’t forgotten it, Hannah. Your father and I have often made it a subject of prayer; and it has set on my conscience more than once that we ought to have punished him at that time as the Scriptures point out; but, somehow, whipping never seemed the thing for your brother. It always made him fierce and sullen; and I don’t know as any punishment besides the rod is held proper for a child. One hardly knows what way to turn with a boy like that.”

“He is so brave, so handsome, mother,” said Hannah Arnold. “I don’t wonder you couldn’t find the heart to punish him. It seems like whipping a race-horse for wanting to run ahead. Won’t he be delighted when he sees what we’ve been about here?”

Mrs. Arnold looked around with gentle complacency upon her pale, sweet face.

“It is real nice,” she said. “The roses on the curtains make the room look bright as a flower-garden. Come, now, daughter, let’s go and see to the beds. Bring down 30the new coverlet, with blue and orange quarters, for the out-room, and then we’ll go into the kitchen and see how Dan and Hagar are getting along. It’ll be time for your father to kill the turkeys and chickens pretty soon. It won’t do to have the noise about when the company comes. Get the coverlet, Hannah, and then go tell your pa, or they will catch us nicely.”

Hannah ran up-stairs, opened a huge chest, full of homespun linen and substantial bedding, from which she took the coverlet woven in orange quarters, and came down again.

“Mother,” she said, making herself very busy spreading the coverlet under the snowy pillows, while her cheeks blushed like moss-roses, “mother, if it should snow to-morrow,—it looks like it, I think,—and the French gentleman, who is coming with brother, should fancy a sleigh-ride, what do you think of it?”

“A sleigh-ride on Thanksgiving-day!” exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, a little horrified.

The roses flushed deeper in Hannah Arnold’s cheek, and she cast a little deprecating look at her mother that melted all the prejudices down in that gentle heart in an instant.

“Well, Hannah, I don’t quite see my way clear about the sleigh-ride, if it should snow,—and it seems to me I saw flakes in the air a little while ago; but supposing you mention the matter to pa; if he doesn’t take it too hard, I won’t interfere. You can wear my muff and tippet.”

“I didn’t mean myself, mother; but the young French gentleman and his sister. You will want me to help about the dinner.”

“Never mind about the dinner. I’m capable of managing that with Hagar. We can chop the stuffing and strain 31the pumpkin-sauce over night, you know. There, now, I don’t believe there’s a bit of sage or summer savory in the house. What shall we do? These workmen turn every thing topsy-turvy!”

“Oh, yes there is, mother! I put up two bundles myself, and hung them on the rafters in the garret, out of the joiner’s way. Shall I run and get it?”

“Well, if you’d just as lief as not.”

Away went Hannah up into the garret, where any quantity of dried herbs hung in clusters and bundles along the naked rafters. The whole roof was ornamented with strings of fresh apples, nicely quartered, and hung up to dry side by side, with loops and rings of pumpkins, stretched along poles, and forming massive golden chains across the slope of the shingles. On a tow sheet, stretched along one end of the garret-floor, which was of loose boards, that rattled as she walked, lay a huge pile of butter-nuts. Three or four bushels of chestnuts lay in one corner, and a quantity of shag-barks was heaped away farther out of sight.

“There’ll be enough for one Thanksgiving, anyway,” thought Hannah, looking around, as she jumped down from the old chair on which she had mounted in order to reach the herbs. “Brother needn’t be afraid of our starving his friends out, I reckon.”

She ran down, with a bunch of herbs in each hand, flushed and pleased that she had remembered something which her mother deemed important.

By this time, Mrs. Arnold was in the kitchen, settling the programme of the coming supper and the next day’s feast with Hagar, the household slave,—who was in reality rather more mistress of the kitchen than Mrs. Arnold herself.

32“Now, Hagar, don’t you think we can get along with out Hannah to-morrow?”

Hagar laid down the loaf of bread she was cutting, and seemed cloudily doubtful.

“Young folks will be young folks,” said the mistress, persuasively.

“Sure enough; there’s nature in that ’ar.”

Here Hannah entered. Hagar’s face brightened at the sight of the herbs. She received them with great complacency, observing that she had just been a-worrying the soul out of her body about sage, and there it came, just like a miracle, with an angel behind it.

“Hannah has been very thoughtful,” said the mother.

“Yes and as you was a-saying, Miss Arnold, young folks will be young folks, and sleighing is sleighing; that’s what I told Dan, not ten minutes ago, ‘Dan,’ says I, ‘you jist go inter the barn, and dust out that ’ere two-horse sleigh, and the cutter as well; for if there isn’t two foot of snow to-morrow morning, I ain’t a cullered pusson to be ’pended on.’ So in course, Dan went. Get along without Hannah! Who thought we couldn’t, I’d like to know?”

“But what will Mr. Arnold say to all this?” inquired the mistress, doubtfully.

“He—he told me to ask you,” said Hannah, with a demure little smile.

Mrs. Arnold did not smile in return; but a look of pleasure stole over her face.

“Well,” she said, “we will think about it! Thanksgivin’ isn’t exactly like Sunday, being rather an institution of the government: so perhaps if we read a chapter, and have prayers at home, and especially if your father and I go to meeting with a sense of edification, a decorous 33sleigh-ride would not be wrong. Hagar, I think Dan had better bring out the great bear-skin robes, and we must see about the foot-stoves.”

“I’ve ’tended to that,” said Hagar, with a sniff of her nose, which reminded you of a squirrel over its nut. “Master carried the robes out hisself, and has been adusting them agin the stun fence ever since.”

“Now, that is all settled,” said Mrs. Arnold, with a gentle sigh, for her delicate conscience was not quite at rest. “We’d better fix up a little, Hannah, for there’s no knowing when the visitors may come. Hagar, tell Dan to build a fire in the out-room; there is plenty of pine-knots under the kitchen-stairs, and every thing handy.”

“I’ll ’tend to that,” said Hagar, plunging her knife into the bread. “There’s Dan coming now with the sleigh-bells in his hand. ’Spoze he wants me to scour ’em up for him. There ain’t no end to his wants.”

Sure enough, just as Mrs. Arnold and her daughter left the kitchen, Dan entered, dragging a huge black bear-skin robe in one hand, and with a string of bells jingling in the other.

Dan was rather more than six feet high; while Hagar stood just four feet ten in her highest-heeled shoes. Dan was large and portly, with a glossy black skin, and a little stoop in his shoulders; Hagar was straight as an arrow, and held her head back pertly, like a quail when it walks the spring turf. Dan had large feet, large hands, and was altogether a little ponderous; Hagar was quick, wiry, and, to use Dan’s complimentary way of expressing it, “sharp as a steel trap.”

Hagar suspected what her fellow-slave wanted, and kept on shaving off slices of bread from the loaf with great diligence.

“Hagar, here is a great, long slit in the bear-skin. 34Master tore it agin the stun wall. S’posing you jes take a needle and sew ’em up, ’cause it’s going to be wanted now, I tell you.”

“I’se got more to ’tend to now than I’se likely to get along with,” said Hagar, pushing aside the slices of bread, and sweeping the crumbs into one hand with the palm of the other. “Who’s goin’ to help me, I should like to know? There’s the fire to build in the out-room, and oven-wood to get in, and pine-knots to split up. Who’s goin’ to help me, I say, with all the family goin’ to meetin’ and every-which-way?”

“I’ll help you, Hagar. Who else has a right to that felicitation?” said Dan, bending grandly over the little woman. “Only get your needle and stitch up the little bit of a tear, jest to satisfy master, and see if I don’t come up to the mark.”

Hagar dusted the crumbs from her hands, took a wooden needle poppet from her bosom, which Dan recognized, with a broad smile, as his own gift, selected a coarse needle, threaded it, and then explored the depths of her pocket for a steel side-thimble. Thus equipped, she drew the bear-skin on her lap, and soon put it in order.

“Now,” said Dan, coaxingly, “if you would jest touch up these ’ere bells a trifle with a little brick-dust.”

“Touch ’em up yourself,” said Hagar, with a toss of her little head. “Bells ain’t my work, nohow.”

“Yes,” said Dan, benignly; “scouring belongs to the women folks. How often I’ve stood by to watch them ’ere hands of yourn a-sliding up and down the knives! It ed be a shame for any other pusson to touch scouring in this house. I’ve said so fifty times.”

“Well, take away the bear-skin and give me the bells. Mighty good care you’ve taken on ’em.”

35“Hagar,” said Dan, stooping low, and speaking in a bland, confidential voice, “it’s beginning to snow. There’s half-an-inch on the ground this minute.”

“Well, that’s no secret. I can see for myself.”

“Yes, Hagar; but I was thinking what’s sarse for the goose is sarse for——”

“Oh, git away, Dan, and don’t talk poetry to me.”

“Wal, then, Hagar, if the rest on ’em are goin’ a-sleighing to-morrow, why shouldn’t we?”

Hagar gave sure evidence that she was really smart as a steel trap. Her eyes began to sparkle, her little figure erected itself.

“You don’t mean that ’ere, Dan!”

“Yes, I do. There’s the cutter that I painted a beautiful yaller only last fall,—jest the dandy for us; then here’s the bear-skin,—you’ll sit under it, Hagar, as snug and warm as a biscuit; and then them bells,—ah! you’ve got to work at ’em—won’t they glisten and jingle? I’ll heat a brick, and do it up in flannel for your feet. It needn’t be a large brick for them feet, Hagar.”

“Oh, you git out with your soft soap,” cried the delighted Hagar, giving her sable admirer a gentle push.

“Then,” continued Dan, magnificently, “as for the driving, perhaps I don’t know how to make old Jack go! Gingle! crack! dash! here we go! Snow-balls flying from the horse’s huffs, fences running away from us, a jumper every-which-while in the road, the cutter going slap bang over it. There, Hagar, that will do. They’re bright as a new dollar,—every bell on ’em,—much obliged. Now, if you would just build that fire in the out-room, while I get the cutter in order. If pine-knots are wanted, you’ll find an axe at the back-door, with a beautiful barked log to lay them agin. If master’ll only let me 36take the cutter and old Jack, we’ll be sure to have that sleigh-ride.”

With this, Dan gathered up the robe and bells, made a motion with his hand, threw an imaginary kiss high over Hagar’s head, and disappeared, leaving the little negress in a state of hazy doubt whether Dan had been putting all his work on her or not.