The luck of Alden Farm: with a sketch of the history of Crane's Corner, where "luck" was slowly learned. The whole intended as a safe guide of all young people to "good luck."

Front matter

I

I

THE LIBRARY

Chapter I. A Hint

THE homestead of Alden Farm, as a whole, is, at the time of our story, a good specimen of the New England homesteads of "the olden time." The old chimney is there, in the center of the house, and contains bricks enough for all the chimneys of three, first class, modern farm houses. But the old fire-place, its settle, huge crane, large, winter back-logs, around whose great fire the children could scarcely keep comfortably warm, and up whose immense flue the heat rushed, into the thin, cold atmosphere, as if bravely seeking to warm "all out doors," — this old fire-place, we say, is not there.

The proprietor — we mean plain John Alden, the farmer and owner of the house and its farm — does not retain old things because they are old, nor reject proposed changes because they are new. He was in the prime of life when cooking-stoves were proposed as a substitute for the old fire-place. John, when in town with a load of his best oak wood, which had begun to bring "a good price" — say three dollars and a half a cord, stepped into a stove dealer's to look at "the new notion." The man of stoves, with a sharp eye to trade, opened its doors to exhibit its fire-range, oven and drafts, paraded its shining furniture, with a proud air, as much as to say, " Mister, see that ! " and talked the while in a manner which meant trade.

John Alden whistled, thrust his hands into his pockets, examined the article closely, made little talk with the man, and finally stood some minutes in musing silence.

"What's the price of that arrangement?" said John, breaking the silence.

" Only thirty-six dollars ! " said the stove man, blandly.

"I'll talk with Patience about it," said John, turning resolutely away.

John mounted the seat of his heavy oxwagon, and rode off whistling, while the disappointed man of trade walked back to his bench, muttering, "The simpleton don't know his mind, but must ask his old woman at home ! Such old fellows would not pay thirty-six dollars for all the improvements in Christeadom ! "

"I'll take that article, " said John Alden, just three weeks from this time, as he walked into the stove dealer's place of business, at the same time drawing a purse of silver dollars from his pocket.

John and his wife, Patience, had talked the matter over beside their huge fire-place. They carefully noted the increasing value of wood ; they called to mind the cold drafts from the opened doors, during the winter, and the hot drafts which went roaring up the chimney ; John explained what he deemed the conveniences of the new invention — its saving of labor and fuel ; and, finally, the great outlay of thirty-six hard dollars, earned by hard toil, was balanced, with careful reckoning, against these advantages. When the decision was once made, John and Patience went quietly at work, as assured that their 'decision was right, as if it had been considered by a jury of the fathers of the town, and they had rendered their verdict in due form.

John and Patience Alden were not selfconceited people, but they did have "a mind of their own," as even the stove-man now believed, and- a self-reliance which was remarkably fruitful of good luck. .

A HINT. U

The mason was called to wall up, with brick and mortar, the ancestral fire-place. The man with the trowel worked away, but grumbled as he worked, "It is none of my business, Patience Aldeu, and I am not a man to be meddling with other people's affairs. But it does seem to me that John is real foolish. " I heard my mother tell how his good old grandparents sat before this very fire-place, resting and chatting, and then getting out the great family Bible j just as people used to do, when new faugled things wan't so much thought of. And then, Patience, haven't I seen, since your day in this house, John's own dear father and mother, sitting right here, in this place which I'm shutting up never to be seen again, drinking their cider of a cold winter evening, and a thanking God for their own home and hearth? Dear me, what would they say ! Well, they have gone where they won't be troubled with these times of pride and nonsense."

Patience dropped a tear at the allusion to the greatly beloved parents, which the bricklayer mistook for a tear of regret at John's foolish purchase ; so he added with increased earnestness, "Patience Alden, I never thought you were to blame for this foolish business. It don't seem like John neither. He's been real lucky, and got ahead smartly. But it don't signify, he's missed it this time !"

Patience wiped the tears from her face, at this reflection upon her husband, and turned to the meddler, with a quiet but resolute countenance, as she exclaimed, "John and I are perfectly agreed concerning this improvement ! "

The man subsided into a becoming silence during the rest of his stay in the house.

John Alden's neighbor, Mr. Crone, and his wife, Jerusha Crone, and all the little Crones, let fly their sharp arrows, that is, their bitter words, at John and his wife, for their late extravagance.

"I can't afford to spend thirty-six hard-earned dollars to gratify my wife's foolish notion for a new thing."

"You may thank your good fortune," said Mrs. Crone, smartly, "that your wife has no foolish notion after new things."

"I know it, woman," said Mr. Crone, in a conciliatory manner. "We always get along nicely in the good old paths. I told the parish committee, when they came round to make up the salary of the parson, that I should pay only the two cords of wood, which I have always paid, and which my father and grandfather paid. flt was enough,' said I, 'for their minister, and it's enough for mine.' But, Jerusha, I believe they would have teased another cord from me, had you not given them a piece of your mind about the extravagance of the times."

All the little Crones caught the spirit of their parents. Ezekiel, or "Zeke," as they called him, said, petulantly, "The Alden boys always did feel big. Now they will be grander than ever ! " And Zake gave his "chip hat" a toss into the air, and a kick when it came down, transferring to his innocent hat the ill will he felt to the lucky children of Alden Farm.

Neighbor Goodnow thought that John and Patience knew what they were about. "For my part," he said, "I would not risk the throwing away of thirty-six hard-earned dollars, but I shan't matter it, if John's experiment proves saving. It's a blessing to have a man like John among folks, who is willing to take all the risk of new things."

Goodnow represented • a class of John's neighbors, who were sure to reap a benefit from his spirit of enterprise. If his plans succeeded, they adopted them ; if they failed, they were wiser in their own eyes than before, exclaiming complacently, "We told you so, John ! That was a silly notion of yours ! "

John Alden and his wife were fully informed by the gossipers concerning the talk of their neighbors. But they were neither angry nor disturbed. He sometimes laughed heartily at their expense. He could generally afford to do this, for his plans were adopted with caution, and patient thinking, and then carried out with decision. So he laughed when his neighbors grumbled, and felt the better for it, especially as his healthful laughing did them no hurt.

John's stove was set up, and in due time the winter came. In the time of which we speak, the winter, like the early Puritan society, was a positive "institution." The

fall did not shade into the winter, and the i winter into the spring, so that one was at

loss to tell whether the winter had been absorbed by these two seasons, or whether there had been no season in particular, as in these degenerate times. The cold came on, like a genuine article as it was, direct f from the Arctic regions. The snow was a home product, and in quality and quantity did credit to the sturdy old character of the New England climate.

The great kitchen of Alden Farm smiled "all over its face," as the little Aldens diligently supplied the stove, in a stormy winter evening, with well seasoned, oak wood ; it did not smile, as in the days of the huge fire-place, on one side of its face with the rosy hue of summer heat, and on the other scowl with a biting frost. The old kitchen was jubilant with the stove's genial warmth, and so were the kitchen's inmates. ^The little Aldens, with whom, in a larger growth we are to become acquainted, sat around a table at one end of the room. Their parents sat at the little "snap stand" at the other. The young folks liked this; their pent-up laughter and sly fun were under less restraint than when the family were huddled about the now cast-off back log. The par ents liked it, because, sitting by themselves, they had more quiet, a better chance to indulge in their own line of talk, and, especially because they did not choose to see and hear all that their children did. John and Patience did enjoy immensely to see the young folks fairly sparkle and run over at times, with youthful animation. They knew when such outbursts had the right moral tone, and they knew how not to be nervous at their noise, and when not to put their hands on the escaping steam, and so how not to scald themselves, and how not to blow up the children.

John Alden cut the usual generous pile of wood that winter. He did not spend his time loitering in the kitchen, because it was more comfortable than usual. When the Crones saw his wood-pile, larger, as they thought, than, ever, they shrugged their shoulders and said, "John don't expect to save any fuel by his new notion, after all ! "

But before the summer was ended, he had sold in town enough wood saved by the store to replace more than half of those thirty-six dollars which so troubled his neighbors.

"It is the luck of Alden Farm folks to have things come out just so ! " exclaimed the Crones. "Every wind is fair for them. We never did have any luck." But deacon Turner said in his quiet way that he thought that the luck at Alden Farm was nothing more than God's blessing on the exerciss of good sense, and the putting forth of a genuine Yankee energy.

CHAPTER n.

SUNSHEtfE.

IT was a bitter cold evening of the winter in which the "new notion" was introduced into the great kitchen of Alden Farm. The snow was drifting in heavy banks about the door- ways and across every pathway. When a gust of wind unusually fierce rattled the sleet against the windows, Carver, the oldest son, pushed the elbow of Miles, who sat by his side absorbed in a book he was reading, and exclaimed, " Hear that Miles, don't it come good ! I guess it will be fun to-morrow wading to school through the snow ! "

Miles looked up for a moment, remarked dreamily that it did storm splendidly, and dropped his eyes again upon his book.

17 2

The youngest child, the baby Winslow, was asleep in the cradle, on the rocker of which Mrs. Alden's foot was resting, while her hands were busily engaged in mending some rather large holes in the stockings of the boys. Her husband sat on the other side of the table, with folded hands, in a musing attitude. His face at last relaxed into a humorous expression, not uncommon in his familiar intercourse with his family, as he bent down and whispered to his wife, "Patience, can you say your lesson in the Catechism?"

Mrs. Alden, a little startled, said with a slight expression of doubt as to the meaning of the question, "I am not a child, John, to be getting a lesson in the Catechism."

John smiled, but answered seriously, "Xo, Patience, but the minister said last Sunday, that the children would meet on Saturday following the Wednesday-lecture, in the big kitchen of the - parsonage, with their Catechisms, and he should know what members neglected the religious instruction of their children. Now, Patience, you know we haven't neglected this duty altogether, but it don't stand to reason that the children will learn from us what we don't know ourselves."

"Do you mean, John," said Patience, laying down her half darned stocking and looking at her husband with a shade of severity upon her usually calm face, "that we ought to go to the parsonage and say our Catechism with the children, to prove to them that we know what it teaches?"

"No, Patience," replied Mr. Alden, with a merry twinkle of his eye. " You need only to recite to me!"

" Oh ! " replied Mrs. Alden, pleasantly, resuming her work, "if that is all, you can get the Catechism and proceed."

John took down from the book-case one of several carefully preserved copies of tho important little book, and commenced a very slow and hesitating questioning of his wife. Patience's face wore a devout expression, but her attention seemed not to be diverted a moment from her work, while she answered every question as readily as though the answers had been the last committed lessons of a girl of sixteen. John, surprised, put the questions more rapidly and with less caution as to being heard by the children. He ran through many sections of the book, and then skipped here and there, picking out questions which involved long and difficult answers. But Patience, nowhere, for a moment tripped.

"Nicely done," said Mr. Alden, laying down the book and pushing back his chair, as if he was about to walk the room as he often did.

"Stop, John," said Patience, the twinkle this time being in her eye ; " it don't stand to reason that you can insist upon the children knowing the Catechism, without you can answer its questions yourself. Let me hear you!"

John blushed a little, but drew his chair up again to the table and waited for the questions. Patience proceeded very seriously and slowly to put them. The answers for some time, though very deliberately given, were correct. But when his wife began to skip about, and select random questions, John plead a bad memory, and declared he would read nothing but the Bible and Catechism until he could answer every one.

Carver and Miles, at their table, on the other side of the room, were listening to this Catechism recitation. They laughed a little slyly when father stumbled at the answers, and Carver whispered in his brother's ear that mother was "too wide-awake" for father.

"Maybe she catches him now," answered Miles, in an undertone, "but I reckon father will answer all the questions like a book, after about two evenings."

The storm increased at a fearful rate. Mr. Alden lit the lamp in the lantern and went to the barn to see if "all was right." The thought that a barn door might have been accidently left open, or the bedding of some of the animals neglected, urged this special care. Mrs. Alden had more precious subjects of interest on her mind. She took the candle from the old mantle-piece and went up stairs to see if the sleepers in the trundle-bed, Euth and Eachel, were "warm and comfortable." She tucked them up anew, laid an additional blanket over their feet, paused a moment to look at the cozy nestlers and say, " God bless them," and then to examine carefully everything through the chambers that the cold could injure.

While the parents were absent on these errands of kindness and love, the sons discussed in their way the parental study of the Catechism.

" Mother did answer the questions splendidly," remarked Carver.

"Yes," said Miles, "but father didn't do bad. I reckon though women can always beat the men in answering smart and lively. How the girls do beat us, Carver, at school !"

Carver was taken by surprise at this allusion, and blushed a little, for Squire Treen's daughter had gone above him that day in the class, by answering a question he had missed. He defended himself and his sex by answering more sharply than the occasion required, " They don't understand the lessons though half as well as the boys ! "

The return of the parents suppressed the reply of Miles, but not his merry laugh at his brother's expense.

The family of John Alden were astir long before the daylight appeared. Ruth and Rachel had been "lively as crickets," long before a light was brought for them to dress ; while Miles had pestered out of his brother a disposition to take another doze, by plying him with all the Catechism questions he could think of. "I'll pay you, Miles, for this," he yawned, "by putting you through the whole book when I get up."

"It won't be fair," retorted Miles, "to put me through any thing but the lesson we are to say to the minister on Saturday afternoon."

"Yes, the whole book," persisted his brother. "When I was twelve years old I could answer every question as quick as a hen can pick up a kernel of corn."

Miles received this brag with a chuckle. "If he did it at twelve, he ought to do it at fourteen years old," he mused. " Sometime, when he gets deep into his study, I'll come down upon him, with questions in

the Catechism, thick and fast as hail stones. i Carver will be up with me though if I don't

know every answer in the book ; I did almost, once."

"Feeling his spirit stirred by these musings, Miles exclaimed, aloud, "Here's the boy — " he was about to say, "Here's the boy that can conquer it ! " but seeing his brother start up with wonder at his earnestness, he stopped suddenly and settled down calmly upon his knees to offer his morning prayer. He then went down stairs, followed soon by his brother, and both immediately engaged cheerfully in assisting their parents ; the older one in the barn with the father, and the younger in the kitchen.

At Alden Farm, before there were daughters old enough to be efficient in domestic work, the sons in turn, "helped mother." She often had for them "a tale of other days," which had descended through .the household circles, from the early Pioneer settlers, or a song which equally well made cheerful hearts and willing hands. So Carver and Miles often prepared the vegetables for the meals, sat the table, or washed the dishes, with such pleasant beguilement of the time, that they almost reluctantly left the kitchen for the more appropriate boys' work of the barn. There was no degradation felt or thought of. Their mother's presence made honorable the hour, and the work.

On the morning of which we were speaking, Miles, with his eight year old sister, Ruth, did much of the morning work of the kitchen. Rachel, six years old, was full of glee, and the three summers Jeremiah, was ready at every turn, with his childish pranks, while the baby, Winslow, did all the scolding for the family. He was hungry, wanted his breakfast, and would have it, whether anybody else was served or not. In vain Jeremiah chided. "Naughty, naughty baby ! " he said, solemnly ; " don't you know mother is werry busy? Itty boys should wait."

But baby only kicked the sides of the cradle more spitefully, and, if louder screams meant anything, exclaimed, "I won't wait!"

"Itty ki-baby," said Jeremiah, putting his lips as near the enraged animal in the cradle as he dared to.

"You little Sancho," said Euth, shaking her fist at him.

Baby's mother came to the rescue at last, the family were permitted by his cradle majesty to eat their breakfast and attend to family devotions in peace, and Miles soon after was told by his mother, with one of her sweetest smiles, that he might go.

"You may go, my son," was all that was said. But to Miles, when he looked into her loving eyes, it meant, — You have 'done your work well ; helped me a great deal ; God bless you !

There was nobody to chide Miles for sitting cosily beside the stove with his book. It was his school book which was first studied, and kept in his lap. But he slyly drew out his Catechism once in a while, and gave its pages close attention. He was determined to surprise not only his brother Carver, but his parents', by his ability to answer every question.

Monday evening before the Saturday childrens' meeting at the parsonage, the Alden family were around their evening lamps. It was very early, the twilight still lingering outside. As the breakfast at the farmhouse was eaten long before daybreak, the dinner hour came at twelve, or even earlier, and the supper at five, or, not unfrequently, as on this evening, at half past four. The solemn stillness of dream-land pervaded the house at nine, unless the baby Winslow forbade it.

On this occasion, Ruth and Eachel had not yet gone to their trundle-bed. There was little study, but much merriment, with the boys while they were present.

"Look here, Miles!" said Carver, suddenly, as if a bright thought had just occurred to him, " next Saturday is the Gatechisra day at the parsonage. I must see that you know all your Catechism. Stand up now, hold up your head, and speak so as to be heard."

Miles reached out his hand and seized the Catechism, with which Carver was about to proceed, and said, in a most solemn tone, while he quoted the words of his father, "It don't stand to reason that we should require of others what we don't know ourselves. I will see how well you can answer the questions."

Carver was fairly caught, and submitted, in imitation of his father's example, to be examined, and came out of the trial remarkably well, stumbling on a few answers only.

" T-o-l-e-r-a-b-l-y well, my boy," drawled out Miles, in imitation of the old gentleman who taught the district school. "You may sit down and study one hour, and you will know it perfectly."

Carver had good sense and kind feeling enough to enjoy the pleasantry he had himself commenced, and he sat down to his hour's task, indulging the thought that his turn would come for fun, at the end of the hour, when he would come down on Miles " like night," with questions from the Catechism.

In the meantime, Miles turned to Ruth, and proposed to examine her.

"It don't stand to reason that you should hear me until I "hear you," said Ruth, pertly, catching up the Catechism and beginning to ask him the questions. Carver enjoyed this hugely, but Miles answered every question. He won't get along so well when / examine him, thought Carver. I'll be thorough.

Ruth went through her assigned lesson promptly, and turned to Rachel, who repeated what she had learned from her mother's lips.

"Now, Jerry," said Rachel, turning to her little brother, "I must hear you!"

"No ! " said Jerry, thi'owing back his shoulders, and putting on a lordly air as he lisped, "'Oo shan't! It don't stand weesou."

The children shouted applause, clapped their hands, and told Jerry to put Rachel through his Primer lesson. But he was content with having shaken his sister off, and ran away to the cradle, where baby Winslow lay, bestowing his sweetest smiles upon all who came near.

"Hurrah!" shouted Ruth, "he is going to examine the baby ! "

All the children started at once for the cradle.

" Ask baby who made him ! " said Miles, patting Jerry coaxingly on his shoulder.

Jerry put his lips close to Winnie's face and lisped, "Who made 'oo, Winnie? .Don't 'oo know? God made 'oo."

" Ask him more ! " shouted Rachel, " see how knowing he looks ! "

"What did he — '' proceeded Rachel, prompting Jerry.

"What did he make 'oo for, Minnie?" said Jerry, reaching still further into the cradle. "Don't 'oo know? He didn't make 'oo to ki and be a naughty baby. He made 'oo to be good."

"That will do, children," said Mrs. Alden, waving the children away with her hand. "That is as much as "VVinslow's little brain can bear to-night."

Ruth and Rachel were, in a few moments, tucked away in their cozy bed ; Winnie, exhausted by his great mental efforts in his first lesson concerning God and his duty to him, followed his equally tired teacher to the blessed sleep-land. Miles answered Carver's thorough questioning so perfectly, that the latter, much to his disappointment, did not find occasion to require him to review the Catechism. Quiet reigned for a while in the great kitchen, except as the old clock in the corner audibly announced the departure of each precious moment as it flitted past.

"Patience!" said John Aldeii, breaking the silence by addressing his wife in an undertone of great tenderness and solemnity, "what wonderful truths the Catechism does teach. I never felt their importance as I do now. I think I begin to have a better understanding of them."

Mrs. Alden laid down her work and looked at him serious!}7, but with a joyful expression, while her husband was uttering these words. They were the language of her own heart. "Yes, John," she replied. "I am glad there is so much of Christ in the Catechism ; there is so much in the Bible 1 "

Mr. and Mrs. Alden then dropped into a quiet conversation about these wonderful truths. The more they talked about them the more their hearts glowed with the inward experience of their wonderful power. " Isn't it wonderful ! " "How precious ! " were frequent exclamations from Mr. Alden, to which his wife would add, "It .is just as I read it, John, in the Word of God. It is Christ from the beginning to the end. He is a divine Saviour ! "

The boys were attracted by this earnest, melting talk. The parents scarcely noticed the fact that they had left their end of the room, and taken seats, as deeply interested listeners.

"Miles!" said Carver, as they retired, "I begin to like the Catechism. I used to think it was as dry as a chip."

"I think I ought to love it," said Miles, seriously. "How happy father and mother did get over it ! Their talk has helped me to understand many hard questions. I have been afraid the minister would ask me what they meant. Now if lie docs, I can answer."

The visit to the parsonage was anticipated by the children of Alden Farm with much pleasure.

Chapter III. Shadows

"Now, Mr. Ezekiel Crone, I desire you would listen to me for once," said Mr. Crone's wife, Jcrusha., He knew this mode of address meant business, so he stood in the middle of the great kitchen, in his farmer's frock, and hat in hand, and listened. Mrs. Crone took her hands out of the pumpkin she was pressing through a "cullender" for her pies, and turned her resolute face toward her meek looking husband.

"Ezekiel, you heard Parson Curtis say that on Saturday, three weeks, the children of the parish are required to be present at the parsonage to be examined in the Catechism?"

Ezekiel nodded assent. He certainly had heard the notice.

"Well," proceeded Mrs. Crone, "our Zeke aud Tom ought and shall go."

Mr. Crone was passive under this declaration, but his wife added a spur to his indecision. "It's a shame, Ezekiel, that our children, members as we are of the church, know nothing about that important little book ! Mercy knows it's not my fault, for I have scolded enough about it."

Ezekiel gave a slight nod of assent to this, and his wife thus encouraged, continued, "When I was a girl I could repeat the answers to more'n half the questions, right off." After this self-satisfying remark, Mrs. Crone dropped her voice into a softened tone and asked, "Ezekiel, could you ever do as well as that?"

Her husband had an indistinct recollection of having tried once to get a lesson in the Catechism, but he thought it quite unreasonable for any one to expect him to know anything about it now. To this his wife assented, saying, "It don't stand to reason that we should know the Catechism. The parson won't examine us neither. But the boys shall learn it."

Ezekiel nodded assent, and his wife turned to her pumpkin pie making. She hustled the small children, Jane and Betsey, a little more roughly than ever, and sharply prompted the boys in their chore business.

"Don't you think, Tom," said Zeke, "that there's a storm brewing?"

Tom turned his eye up to the stars which sparkled with unusual brilliancy in the clear, cold atmosphere, and replied, "No, Zeke, there's not a cloud to be seen."

"I jnean in the kitchen," said his brother, smiling softly.

"I hope not," said Tom, "for if it comes, it will be sure to blow my school lesson away. I am most up to the head of my class for once, and I am determined to show the boys that a Crone can do something.