 A Real New England Girl by Anna I. Parsons 1. The Shower 2. Oxford County 3. The Stranger and the Girl 4. The Youth and the Girl 5. Pansy and Richard Go Trading 6. The Marvelous Storyteller 7. The Dinner 8. The The Minister Comes for Tea 9. Pansy's Father 10. Pansy and Her Mother 11. Poland Springs 12. The Birthday Cake 13. Ned Patterson Comes for a Visit 14. The Blue Berrying Party 15. The Beginning of Wisdom 16. The Tempted and the Penitent 17. The Concert 18. Stanley's Ride 19. The Bench by the Wayside 20. The Banker and the Widow 21. The Bag of Nuts 22. How They Kept Thanksgiving at Little Farm 23. Hardly a Merry Christimas 24. A Call Down and a Caller 25. The Pride of Mrs. Bradford 26. A Happy New Year 27. Amusement and Winter Sport 28. Kim 29. Richard, the Lion Hearted 30. A Tour of the White Mountains 31. Talking Over the Trip with Henry Bright 32. Thoughts That Lie Too Deep for Words 33. Economics 34. His Toast 35. The Busy Haunts of Man 36. Christmas in New York 37. The Last Night of Their Visit 38. The Language Understood by All 39. Sugaring Off 40. Correspondence 41. Commencement 42. Conclusion Afterward     |
The Blue Berrying Party "Touched by a light that hath no name, A glory never sung, Aloft on sky and mountain wall Are God's great pictures hung." -- Whittier Over the hills and over the level, through woodland, by pasture and tillage went the express wagon with its precious human load. Mr. Alden's strong hand guided the horses in paths that were smoothest and safest, now swinging them to the right to avoid a gully, and again to the left to avoid a rock protruding inimically from the roadbed. Pansy and Richard sat on the front seat with him, Stanley and Ned Patterson occupied the middle seat, and Mrs. Bradford and Ruth the back seat. The warm sunshine had dissipated the mist of early morning, and under a sky of softest blue, the eternal hills proclaimed the glory and magnificence of God's handiwork. The spirits of the party were in tune with the beautiful day. With many amusing anecdote and story were Stanley and Ned entertained, as the passing of familiar landmarks called them to mind to the various members of the Bradford family. The little brook near the old red school house inspired Pansy and Richard to repeat in unison part of Tennyson's charming poem beginning, I make a sudden sally, I sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley." On the highland near the junction of the roads, known as "the corner," Richard turned about in his seat to tell of a mystery that at one time caused no little wonder in the community. "This is called Brimstone Corner," he said, pointing to the grassy delta formed by the divergence of the cross road and intersection with the main road. Anciently it was called so because of the fiery doctrine of the minister who used to preach in a church located here, and recently it has been called so because near midnight, at different times, men have been seen digging on this triangular piece, and no one has been able to discover the reason for it. Some said that train robbers had buried their booty here; others said they were after a pot of money supposed to be hidden in the vicinity. After much talk and speculation, Mr. Prime plowed and harrowed the place over and sowed it down to grass seed and nothing has happened since." "What a prosaic way of disposing of a mystery," said Ned. "Was there anything on which to base the treasure-trove theory?" "Why, some years ago, Bill Williams, a farmer near here, claimed he found money buried on his place. He said he dreamed for three nights in succession, that between a yellow birch and an elm was a white rock and in front of the rock the leaves flew round in a whirlwind, and when the whirlwind subsided, the leaves settled down and glistened like coins of silver. He was so impressed with the dream that he went hunting around the place for the spot, and down in his pasture he found a yellow birch and an elm about ten feet apart and between them a white rock, just as he had seen in his dream, but he couldn't see anything that looked like coin, so he got his spade and dug about in front of the rock, and after a while he began throwing up hard lumps, and when he brushed the dirt off of these, he found they were twenty-five and fifty cent pieces. He claimed he found about a peck of these altogether. A big piece came out in the newspapers about it at the time, and for a while Bill had lots of callers, and people wrote letters from all over asking about his wonderful find. Bill can't read or write, and called Uncle Will in one day to read some of the letters for him. Uncle Will asked to see the money, and Bill showed him a handful of coins that were somewhat corroded and had bits of dirt sticking to them, but some of them were of quite recent date. We think it was only a scheme on Bill's part to sell his farm for a good price, but some people still believe there is a lot of money hidden away here somewhere." "Do they attribute it to the ubiquitous Captain Kidd?" asked Stanley. "No," answered Richard, "but a rich Captain Woodford once lived in the neighborhood, and he was said to have carried on a continuous quarrel with his wife and daughters, and when he died they couldn't locate a penny of his wealth." "Riches do sometimes take wing, like this bird that is flying due west. I do not recall having seen so large a one in this vicinity before," said Stanley, following it with his eyes. "It's a Great Blue Heron, sure's eggs!" said Mr. Alden. The party all watched the big bird steadily winging its way westward until it disappeared from view. "I have never seen but two Great Blue Heron before," said Richard. "The last was when Pansy and I attended at the red school house. Pansy saw it first, and called right out in school, 'Here comes a Great Blue Heron!' " "Yes," said Pansy, "and to punish me, the teacher made me stand out in front of the whole school and tell what I knew of the habits of the herons." "What did you say, Pansy?" asked her mother. "Why, at first I couldn't think what to say, and then the poem suddenly came to me that Richard and I wrote in our aviary book: By reedy march or quiet pool, And with its long beak it contrives To catch the wariest fish that dives Within its waters still and cool. It builds its nest high as a crow, Or on a cliff side old and gray, Or else it settles down quite low Where vegetation's old and slow, And there its six green eggs will lay. And when they've hatched out as they should, Home in the nest for very long The mother heron keeps the brood And brings them eels and other food Until they are quite large and strong. A grown bird weighs three pounds or four, Its wings from tip to tip when spread Measure six feet and sometimes more; It has long legs, can wade and soar, And the herony's where it's bred." "Why, Pansy, I didn't know you woed the pensive muse," said Ned in winsome tones. "We don't; we just 'muse ourselves," answered Pansy. "I see more truth that merit in your lines," said Ruth. "I feel real tender toward them, Ruth, because they helped me over a hard place," said Pansy. "Wish I could have that good luck," observed Ned. The road led through the outskirts of the village, and from thence the grade was steadily upward. As they passed a grove through which a silver stream meandered, Pansy pointed to the latter and said to Stanley and Ned, "That is called Stony Brook and it flows into the Little Androscoggin. Richard and I think some glacier laid its eggs here." "And very prolific they must have been," said Ned quickly, noting the mass of rock and pebbles along the banks and in the bed of the stream. "The stone age may have left off here," suggested Stanley. "Stacked its implements, eh! Pansy, your town possesses great historical possibilities." "Well, it's part of the Maine land, and that is more than you can say of Baltimore." Ned arched his eyebrows and a slight smile fluttered across his lips, but he pursued his subject. "Anything else to indicate that prehistoric man dwelt in this vicinity?" he asked. "Nothing, only the ice caves at Greenwood beyond Norway." "Left his refrigerator, too! That was cool of him." At some farm buildings near the base of the mountain they left the team, and proceeded on foot to the un-cultivated land where the blue berries grew. Soon the various members of the party were scattered over a wide area of open country where the strong sunshine and absence of breeze made vigorous exercise oppressive. Ned never let Pansy get very far away from him. Picking berries was not his specialty, but he like to lie in the warm, brown grass and match wits with this little Yankee girl who was so intent on her work that she was wholly unmindful of how closely he was watching her. "I've seen lots of youngsters down South picking cotton, but I never saw anybody get after anything the way you do those blue berry bushes," he said. "It's just like a hound when he gets a fox by the neck and shakes the daylights out of it." With clenched fist and quivering arm, Ned impersonated the final scene between dog and fox after a cross country chase. "I hope I am never cruel even to a week," she answered in soft tones, "but when I've got something to do I like to hurry and get it done. You must not keep me talking so much, for if we don't get lots of berries, we'll have to live on apple sauce all next winter." "Ought to be good for a modern Eve, so I hope you won't banish me from Eden on that account." "Banish you! I have no desire to banish you, because you are real good company when you talk about your studies, or the places you have seen, or your hunting expeditions." "Thank you, dear Lady Delight, I'll talk on any one or all of these subjects if you'll come and sit with me under yonder shade tree." Pansy almost gasped so great was the shock of the suggestion. "And let mother and Ruth pick berries! I'd as soon think of trying to jump over Streaked." A short pause in which the berries rained into Pansy's pail like hail into a tub. "Pansy," he began again, "there are lots of pretty girls in Baltimore, but you've got them all beat to a frazzle with that face and figure." "You must not say such things to me, because they are not true," she said indignantly. "I read in an old magazine mother had saved that Baltimore had more beautiful women than any city in America, and this article spoke of three beautiful sisters (three graces they were called) who married into the nobility of Europe, and at least two of them became queens." "I know of two sisters who are queens without marrying into the nobility of Europe," persisted Ned. "If you mean Ruth and I you are certainly exaggerating. Ruth may possess queenly qualities, but there's more of the rustic in me. Mother says Ruth is the flour of the family, but I am only the graham meal." "Graham meal is what is needed, I believe, when a fellow's heart is set on a gem." "In that case, he had better go to Mount Mica and get a tourmaline." "Why should he when a pearl of rare quality is within arm's length?" "Ned," she said, with dignity, "if you would talk less and find more bushes for me to pick, I'd get my pail filled quicker." "It pleases me to talk to you, but since it pleases you that I find more bushes, I'll try," and he arose languidly and went in search of better picking ground. A little after twelve o'clock, Richard, Stanley and Ned went to the farm house to bring the lunch and for fresh water from the farmer's well, and the party gathered under a large maple to partake of the noon repast. A white table cloth was spread on the grass, and Pansy assisted her mother in opening the boxes of food and making accessible their contents. "Here's the lemon juice and sugar, Richard, you and Stanley fix the lemonade; and you might open these pickles," she said, handing Ned a jar with a smile as sweet as the pickles were sour. "They handed me a lemon in the garden of love Where they told me only peaches grew." sang Ned, as he loosed the top and placed the pickles beside the plate of tarts Pansy was carefully filling. "Now, Uncle Will -- " Pansy suddenly broke off and whispered to her uncle who, in turn, laughed and shook his head. "We're all ready," said Pansy. "I tried to get Uncle Will to announce dinner same as the farmer did where Ruth and some others attended a funeral. When they were all seated around the table, instead of helping them to meat and vegetables, he said, 'Now, rear up and help yourselves.' " "Is that the etiquette we are to follow today?" asked Ruth. "Permit me to do the rearing for you," said Ned, taking up the box of sandwiches and passing them around. "I think I could become a first-class butler if everything else failed." "And I might qualify as a soda fountain clerk," said Stanley, who had been steadily pouring out lemonade for sometime. "If there's such a thing as a cricketeer, I guess that's my vocation," said Richard, "for I've chased more than a hundred crickets off this table cloth already." "Since we are so well supplied with attendants, I'm content to play just lady," said Pansy, leaning back comfortably against her uncle's shoulder and biting away at a sandwich. When the repast was over, Pansy and Richard made an inventory of the berries picked, and announced that there were forty quarts. "We only want to get about ten or twelve quarts more, and then we'll climb the mountain," said Pansy. Soon the task of culling berries was over. Leaving Mrs. Bradford and Ruth under some shade trees, Mr. Alden, Pansy, and Richard guided Stanley and Ned up the mountain side. There are mountains in Maine harder of ascent than Streaked, for instance Mt. Kineo, where the steepness has necessitated building a long flight of stairs in one place and in another a chain has been stretched for some distance to insure safety to the climber. Streaked has its difficulties. There is no state road up its abrupt escarpment -- only the crudest rock-strewn pathway. It is forest clad, and sometimes the pine needles give way under your feet and you suddenly find yourself nose downward; sometimes a half concealed stone starts to gravitate and you spin around like a weather cock, and grasp at the nearest branch for support, or, if may be, one of those very life savers strikes you across the face while you are taking a look to the north or south. Panting and perspiring the party reached the summit and gazed about. "Shades of Lord Baltimore, the old Blue Ridge hasn't anything on this!" It was Ned who broke the silence and having done so, he sat down as if unable longer to remain on his feet. "It is just as though you sat on the crown of Dame Nature and gazed on her necklace of sapphire blue mountains stretching about her emerald green neck." The scene that spread out before them on every hand was one of marvelous beauty. In the distance were chains of blue hills and mountains, piled one above another, and extending in a huge arc about the pinnacle of Streaked; in the valley, green forests, silver lakes and streams, white villages and well cultivated agricultural lands contrasted and blended in varied picturesqueness. Was it strange that the party were quiet for a time as they beheld the magnificence and boundlessness of the physical world? "Uncle Will, what was the story you told us about the outlook from Streaked Mountain attracting a grantee of the town?" asked Pansy, when they have viewed the landscape in all directions. "Why, in 1772, Josiah Bisco led a party of surveyors to the top of this mountain and was much pleased with the prospect it unfolded. Afterwards he became one of the sixty grantees of Paris, and was the only one who came to live in our town." "I think I heard father speak of him," said Stanley. "He and most of the early settlers came from Watertown, Massachusetts, I believe." "Bisco came from Watertown, but the others came from various parts of Massachusetts and settled in what is now New Gloucester, Maine, and from there spread out to the adjacent towns." "Reckon those pioneers had all the game they needed for food, and didn't have much trouble to get it either," said Ned, who was stretched out comfortably on the ground with his hands clasped under his neck. "They had game in abundance, but the getting it was not without its dangers," replied Mr. Alden. "Father used to tell the story of a boy who wanted to go out and shoot a wild turkey he could hear calling in the forest, but his father said no, he would go himself. Procuring a gun, he proceeded cautiously near to the place from whence the call came, and there bagged as vicious an Indian as ever imitated turkey gobbler or wielded bow and arrow." "There's no hunting like that these days," sighed Ned. "Reckon I was born a century and a half too late. It really takes courage to walk up to some mild eyed creature and blaze away, but the expectation of a counterattack adds zest to sport." He arose languidly as the party made ready to descend. The wind blew chillily across the unobstructed space, making a long stay impossible. "You're all goose flesh, Pansy! Let's run down the mountain and get warmed up," said Richard, holding out his hand to her. "Not so fast! Not so fast!" cried Ned, seizing her by her free hand. "I'd better take charge of you, Pansy, or they'll have you maimed," said Stanley, as she stood with her brother pulling her forward by one hand, while Ned as firmly held her back by the other. "We'll walk with the others, Richard," said Pansy, feeling as if she were renouncing her girlhood. Heretofore she and Richard had run freely, and often at perilous speed, over the Oxford County hills, and to decline this pleasure was like assuming new dignity and suddenly stepping into womanhood. "I am going to help hold Uncle Will back," and she slipped her hand into that of her uncle's and walked demurely by his side down the mountain. While waiting for Mr. Alden to get the team ready, Ned found time to comment solicitously on Pansy's altered complexion to which she somewhat ironically but laughingly replied, "I am sure Professor Thayer would prize you highly as a pupil for your apt metaphor. Within the last few hours I have been held to be a queen, a pearl, a dinky little angel, an ambitious bunch of cotton, a fish that's hard to angle, a fawn that dotes on its mother, and now, because the sun has reddened my face, I'm a vestal virgin scotched in the sacred fire. Really, I don't think I shall sleep tonight from thinking what I'll be tomorrow." Unabashed, Ned helped her into the wagon and usurped Richard's place beside her. She seemed to acquiesce in the arrangement and talked amiably, but when her uncle jumped in, reins in hand, moving deftly to the right, she pulled him by the sleeve, so that he sat down between them. Ned, looking off at the mountain, turned in surprise and exclaimed woefully, "Well, what d'you think of that!" and the whole party indulged in a merry laugh at his expense. Very tired, but well satisfied, the party reached Little Farm late in the afternoon. Pansy's prediction of not sleeping was not to be fulfilled, for a day so full of activity brought early and blissful repose. She and Richard retired soon after supper, but ere Morpheus claimed her, Ruth came to her room. "Here's a package that Jerry Pike just left for you, Pansy, and it says on the outside, 'Open before going to sleep.' " Pansy sat up in bed and tore off the wrapper. "It's honey almond cream that Stanley has sent for my sunburn," she said, examining the label. "Ruth, you'll oblige me by rubbing some on, I couldn't keep my eyes open another minute if Queen Elizabeth and all her train were to walk through this room." She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes, but before Ruth left her she added in a sleepy voice, "Rub some on Richard, too." Click Here for Chapter 15 |