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Ewell, Martha Lewis Beckwith, 1841-1902

"The Harvest of Years"

Regularly
now several of our people went ten miles to the church where we heard
Mr. Ballou. A donation party for our minister was to be given the last
day of April, and the air was rife with conjectures. Jane North made her
appearance, and her first salutation was:
"Good afternoon, Mis' Minot. Going to donation next Monday night?"
"I think so," was mother's quiet reply.
"Well, I'm glad: s'pose there's a few went last year that wouldn't carry
anything to him now?"
Aunt Hildy stepped briskly in and out of the room, busy at work, and
taking apparently no notice of the talk, when Clara came again to the
front with:
"Oh! come this way, Miss North, I have something to say, these good
people will excuse us."
"Oh! yes," said mother, and they went. I could not follow them for I was
busy. Two hours after, I entered Clara's sitting-room, and Jane sat as
if she had received an important message from some high potentate,
which she was afraid of telling. She sat knitting away on her silk
stockings, and talked as stiffly, saying the merest things. Clara left
the room a few moments, and then she said:
"Ain't she jist a angel; she's give me the beautifullest real lace
collar for myself, and three solid linen shirts for our minister; said
per'aps she should'nt go over; and two or three pieces of money for his
wife, and a real beautiful linen table-cloth; you don't care if I take
'em, do you?"
"Oh, no!" I said, "Mrs. Desmonde is the most blessed of all women.


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