The Puddleford Papers Part 11

'Wife,' said Bird to me one day--'wife,' sez he, 'you musn't go out with them are thin shoes on--'t'il be the death on you,' sez he. 'O, shaw!' sez I. 'Bird, you're allers bor'ring trouble.' 'No, I ain't, nother,' sez he.

'Byme-by, you'll get a mortal sickness in your lungs, and it'll run you inter the inflammation, and then you're gone.' But I allers laughs at Bird when he talks so. Why, of all things," continued Mrs. Bird, looking round, if here ain't Mrs. Brown. "Are you well, Aunt Sonora, to-day?"

"Pretty sorter," answered Mrs. Brown.

"Hain't had the rheumatiz, nor shakin' ager, nor any of that buzzing in your head?"

"None to speak on."

"How is your old man, Mrs. Brown?"

"Well, he's gruntin' some--but so's to be about."

"Did he catch that feller who ow'd him and run'd away?"

"Not's I ever heerd on," replied Mrs. Brown.

"Why, what a nice caliker you're got on, Mrs. Brown; was it one-and-three or one-and-six?"

"I b'lieve it was somewher's _along_ there," said Mrs. Brown.

"It's jest like Charity Beadle's, only Charity had hers made up with the figur' runnin' down."

About sundown, and in the midst of Mrs. Bird's conversation--for her tongue kept in full play--Squire Longbow and wife announced themselves by a rap.

Their arrival spiked Mrs. Bird's battery. After making a cold, scornful, and exceedingly low and ironical bow to them, she retired one side with Mrs. Beadle and Mrs. Snipes.

Squire Longbow had on his best rig--a suit of grayish homespun. His shirt-collar was unusually tall, and he had put a double bow-knot in his neckcloth of white cotton. The shade over his lost eye was very clean and bright. He really looked like a Justice.

Longbow said he was glad to get out--that the business of justice was wearin' him to death.

"Much on your mind, Squire, now?" I inquired.

"All the time--all the time sunthin'. There's a pin't of law to be settled in that case 'tween Whippum against Snappett. Snappett's n.i.g.g.e.r man druv Snappett's cattle over Whippum's dog, and broke Whippum's leg--I mean Whippum's _dog's_ leg; and Whippum's dog's goin' to die--a very valuable dog--cost Whippum six shillings last spring--good for cattle, hogs, anything--children thought a good deal on him; and so Whippum swore Snappett should pay for the dog, if he spent his farm to get it."

"I declare," exclaimed I.

"Yes, he said it in my offis last week; but whether to sue Snappett or the n.i.g.g.e.r is the p'int. If we sue the n.i.g.g.e.r, he arn't good; if we sue Snappett, twarn't he that druv the oxen."

"Join the n.i.g.g.e.r and the white man together in one suit," said I.

"_T-h-u-n-der!_" exclaimed the Squire, looking wildly at me--"can't jine n.i.g.g.e.rs and white men together by _our_ const.i.tution--Story's dead agin it.

They'd come in on t'other side, and squash everything inter pieces."

"Can it be possible?" said I.

"Yes-sir-_ee_!" said the Squire; "they _would_ that--and have me 'peal'd up to the higher courts in a jiffy.

"And then," continued the Squire, "Tibbits and Jenkins have got inter trouble. Jenkins got mad at Tibbits 'bout somethin' a while ago, and so he went down to Tibbits' house, his gun on his shoulder, full-er wrath--and spyin' a favorit' cow of Tibbits in the barn-yard, jest drew up, and popped her over--Tibbits run'd out, grabbl'd the gun out of Jenkins' hand, and smashed it up fine on a tree--then they had a fight, and Jenkins bung'd up Tibbits, and Tibbits bung'd up Jenkins, so neither on 'em could see much--now Tibbits wants to bring suit for the value of his cow."

"Do tell now if he does," exclaimed Aunt Sonora, who had been listening to the Squire's story; "I tell'd our folks at hum, yesterday, that I hadn't any doubt but Puddleford would be turned _en_side out 'bout that."

"Yes!" continued the Squire, "Tibbits wants to bring suit--but I tell'd Tibbits that I wanted to know how much the cow was worth. 'Fourteen dollars,' said he. 'How much was the rifle worth?' ''Bout the same,' said he. 'Jest a set-off,' said I; 'the rifle pays for the cow, and the cow for the rifle.' Tibbits said that warn't la', and swore, and said I should issue the writ. I threatened to commit him for contempt. He said he'd get a _ramdamus_ (mandamus) onter me, and there the matter stands."

"Well," said I, "you _do_ have trouble, Squire--I'd resign."

"n.o.body to fill my place," said the Squire, pushing his arms down into his breeches pockets and stretching out his legs and throwing his eyes up to the ceiling--"n.o.body that understands the _staterts_."

"There's Ike Turtle," said I.

"Ike arn't cool enough--it takes a _cool_ man for justis in these parts--a man that arn't afear'd of nothin'."

"Just so," said I. Here was a rap, and Ike Turtle, Mr. and Mrs. Bates, and many others, entered.

We had a house full nearly. The elements, as I have said, were not harmonious. The Birds, and Swipes, and Beagles, and their friends were huddled together by themselves in one part of the room, and Longbow and his friends in another. You might hear whispers and suppressed laughs, and Ohs!

and Ahs! from the circle of Mrs. Bird, and side-looks and other manifestations of uneasiness.

Ike Turtle, whose knowledge of human nature was equal to his humor, after eying the group a while, concluded to break into and scatter it, if possible. So turning around--"Mrs. Bird, you look un-_com_only well, to-day," he said.

"Think I _do_," replied Mrs. Bird, pettishly.

"Why, you look as fresh as a new-blown rose."

Mrs. Bird held down her head, and actually appeared confused. Soon she gathered courage to speak. "Why, Mr. Turtle, how can you think so? I'm an old woman."

"Not so old, arter all," said Ike; "you've taken good care of your sperits and complexion."

"Why, Mrs. Bird don't use _sperits_!" exclaimed Mrs. Brown, looking down over her spectacles, at Ike, with horror.

"Not them kind," said Ike--"but her nat'ral sperits, I mean. Now,"

continued Ike, "here's Squire Longbow, past fifty, hearty as a buck, full-er fire, and can kick up his heels as high as his head--all owin' to his sperits. Don't you think so, Mrs. Bird?"

Mrs. Bird said she didn't know much about Squire Longbow.

"O, nonsense now--yes, you do--liv'd neighbor to him in Puddleford these ten years or more. But if there's any doubt about it, I'll just introduce you. Squire Longbow," continued Ike, rising and pointing to Mrs.

Bird--"Mrs. Bird--Mrs. Bird, Squire Longbow. And here's Mrs. Beagle and Mrs. Swipes--all of Puddleford--maybe you don't know 'em--all old residenters--come in when the country was new, and have cut their own fodder ever since."

The Squire rose, bowed, and said--he "know'd 'em all, and was glad to meet 'em looking so fust rate."

"Now," said Ike, "I've introduced you, enjoy yourselves."

This movement of Ike's broke the ice. The clique relaxed their brows, and conversation grew more general.

"Is Lavinny at school this winter?" inquired Mrs. Beagles of the Squire.

"Yes, marm, she is--studying 'stronomy--got inter the fix'd stars last week--and will be onter Capercorn, byme-by."

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Aunt Sonora, her knitting-needles rattling with surprise, "how _did_ she get out--got into the stars?"

"Yes, marm," continued the Squire, "she larned herself inter 'em--and she knows all 'bout 'em--what they're there for--and who put 'em there--jest as much as though she'd lived six months on the spot. And then, Mrs.

Beagle, she's up to her eyes in hist'ry. She talks 'bout the Caesars and 'Gustuses jest as though she'd allers know'd 'em. Tells all about how Christopher Columbus came over with the Puritans and settled onter Plymouth rock, 'cause Richard Third, king-er Spain, got mad at 'em, 'cause they would kiss the Pope's toe."