Vol. I. Philadelphia, Seventh Month, 1820. No. 7.
FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.
Among the smooth faced urchinsthat were subject to my little kingdomabout fifteen years ago, was atall awkward boy, named JonathanGull. Jonathan was the son of an honesthard working farmer, who livedabout two miles from the village, andwho had by dint of frugality, acquiredsome property, and with it a proportionaldegree of consideration inthe eyes of his neighbours. His cropsof wheat were generally large, andhe made a journey to the metropolisonce a year, to dispose of his grainand produce. On these occasions hiswife and a grown up daughter wouldusually accompany him to see the cityand to buy cheap goods. It did one'sheart good to witness the return ofthe honest farmer—the smile of self-complacencywith which he greetedthe members of his family, and theeagerness with which he inquired respectingthe farm, Old Roan, and theyoung colt, and brindle, the cow, andthe litter of young pigs; and the airof importance which he assumed towardshis neighbours, who throngedaround him to hear the latest news-whatBoney was doing—the yellowfever—and the price of wheat. Hishearty greeting of his acquaintance;the animation which sparkled in hissunburnt face; his short thick setfigure, decked out in a suit of homespungrey, with large brass buttons;his arms a kimbo; and the broadburst of merriment, that, amidst thediscussion of graver subjects, occasionallybroke forth at some sly turn,or second hand joke of the traveller;altogether formed the beau ideal ofhomely rustic happiness, and prosperity.Nor was the greeting andexcitation less on the part of the wifeand daughter. As the wagon wasemptied of its load, treasure aftertreasure met the eyes of the delightedgroup of children and neighbours.Here were a new set of milk pans,and a churn for the dairy; a dozenof pewter spoons, as smooth and asbright as silver, and scrubbing brushes,and knives and forks to repair thewaste of years. There glittered lots ofnew calico, as fine as red and yellowcould make them; papers of pinsand needles, and all the sundry articleswhich complete the stock ofan industrious housewife; while inanother place were cautiously hid,lest they should excite undue envy,the silver teaspoons and teapot, and[242]the bundles of coffee and tea andwhite sugar, together with the tortoiseshell combs and gold ear-ringswhich the good natured husband hadbeen importuned to buy. Let not thereader turn away with contempt fromthis simple picture; the event was animportant one in the family of farmerGull, and supplied it with a stock,not only of necessities and luxuries,but of conversation and pleasure fora full season. But alas! in the trainof all this prosperity and gladnessmarched the forerunners of decay.Farmer Gull's heavy purse of shiningdollars had won the heart ofmany a knight of the counter, andmany were the plans laid to obtain aa closer intimacy with their owner.Here Mrs. Gull was invited to sitdown in the parlour to rest herself;and there was she pressed to stay totea. One talked to her about herbutter and her cheese, and anotherabout her rosy faced children. Inshort, it so happened, that in thecourse of a few years, she had atleast half a dozen acquaintances inthe shopkeeping line, each of whomwere under engagement to spend ashort time during the Dog-days atMelrose; for so was the farm nowstyled.