It was one of those golden weeks when the pleasantest house seems a prison, and you feel as if you must live day and night out of doors. The breeze from the cool Cayuga never fanned the brow nor tingled the blood with a more hilarious spirit; and the orchards were never more fragrant, nor the silver moon more round or fair.
Fabens marshalled his corn 'stouts,' like a legion of soldiers in a hollow square, on the green mown meadow in front of his house, a quarter of a mile away; and sent invitations far and near for a very large gathering. He was particular even to invite Tilly Troffater and his family; and a great number came. They came at half-past six; and as the last sat down to the husking, the mild and majestic moon rose smiling over the Owasco woods, and flooded the skies, and kindled the dews with her mellow beams. Uncle Walter and Mr. Waldron were the first on the ground; and Wilson and Troffater did not linger long behind. A number of women were present; and a whole bevy of jocund boys enjoyed it. The greetings were warm and brief, and the songs and stories commenced quite early. Colwell had been on a bee hunt, he said, that day, in the Richmond Openings, and discovered three swarms, and almost traced another. Uncle Walter had been husking the corn he had topped and left on the hill. Mr. Nimblet had harrowed in a late-sown fallow. Troffater had looked to his traps, and spent the rest of the day fishing on the lake. Most of the women had been drying apples and coloring flannel.
Fanny Fabens and Nancy Nimblet sang the 'Silver Moon;' and all confessed it was never sung better. Uncle Walter told a panther story, with thrilling additions they never had heard before; sent cutting little tremors of terror trembling through their hearts, and made them thank their stars that those perilous days were over. Troffater told his "Jemmy Harvey" story, saying "Jemmy was green as a mess o' cowslops and the priest tuck forty dollars for pardoning his sins, and left him without a shiner to tuck himself hum agin;" then he crossed and cocked his black and blue eyes and laughed in convulsions at the story, while they laughed at the manner in which the story was told. Teezle told a story about the Indians and Tories "that cut up such didoes in the revolution down there in the Diliway." Colwell repeated the story of Milo Dale, the money-digger.
Then Squire Fabens told a story of a man who was caught in his neighbor's granary borrowing wheat, and who was given a bag full and his supper in the bargain, and sent home, promising he'd never do the like again.
"A sap-headed fool, I guess it was, that found him, and let him slip off in that way," said Colwell.
"That may be; but he did one wise act of his life, in his treatment to the borrower, and I dare say that man will never violate his vow," answered Fabens.
"I don't know about that," said Teezle. "I should be afraid on't, and lock up my grainery olers after."
"The person did not lock his granary, and no borrower I dare say has set foot in it since."
"Thief, why didn't ye say?" inquired Colwell.
"O, he did not mean to steal," answered Fabens. "His family were hungry, and he was too bashful to ask for it, and was taking the wheat only till after the next year's harvest. The exposure of his error might have ruined him; and he might have been driven to a desperate life of crime. Now I think he must be a better man than before overtaken by temptation."