Mrs. Beagle said "it was all true about the ile—she see'd it burn through the winder—and she'd seen a great many more things through the winder—but she warn't a going to tell what they were!"
Mrs. Sonora Brown threw up her hands in horror, and said, "she had always suspected it, but darsn't say so."
"O, shaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Beagle; "that's nothing to Bates' wife; she walks out arm-in-arm in broad daylight with her cousin that's been sneaking round there on a visit." She said, "Puddleford used to be a 'spectable village, but there warn't any morals any more since these high-flyers had got into it—and she guess'd Bates' wife was flaring out, and trading at the stores as much as Longbow."
Mr. Bird very grumly said, "he'd better hold in, for if he didn't hist a little note he had again' him 'fore long, he'd sue him to judgment, and level an execution on everything he had, and clean him out."
A yellow-looking woman, who sat in the corner, and who had just before remarked that "she'd had the shakin' ager onto her all winter," wanted to know if "the new marchant was going to jine the upper crust, or be one of our folks."
It was not long, however, before all were rattling away together, so that nothing but the emphatic words could be distinguished. Artillery, fire-arms, and all, were blazing. Such a scorching as the aristocracy received had hardly ever been equalled.
Longbow & Co. did not care for their enemies. They rather felt proud of the notice bestowed upon them. Ike Turtle used to say, "'twas fun to stand and take the fire of fools;" but Squire Longbow's dignity was so profound, that he never permitted himself to know that there was really any war going on.
Society in the country, among the farmers, was quite another thing. Puddleford village had a country, and village pride looked down upon it, just as it does in larger places. The amusements and frolics of the country were more simple and hearty. In the winter, husking-bees, apple-parings, and house-warmings were held every week at some of the farm-houses. Great piles of corn were stacked up in barn, the girls and boys invited in for miles around, long poles run through strung with lanterns, and the husking rushed through, 'mid songs and jokes. Then all hands adjourned to the house, and drank "hot stuff," ate nuts, and played games, and stormed around, until they started the very shingles on the roof; while the great fireplace, piled up with logs into the very throat of the chimney, shook its shadows around the room in defiance of the winds that roared without.
Now and then the country quality held a regular blow-out at Bulliphant's tavern. On these occasions, dancing commenced at two in the afternoon, and ended at daylight next morning. Dry goods and perfumery suffered about those days. The girls and boys dressed their hair with oil of cinnamon and wintergreen, and the Eagle smelt like an essence shop. It fairly overpowered the stench of Bulliphant's whiskey-bottles. Every one rigged out to within an inch of their lives. The girls wore ruffles on their pantalets frizzled down over their shoes, nearly concealing the whole foot; and all kinds and colors of ribbons streamed from their heads and waists. The "boys" mounted shirt-collars without regard to expense, and flaunted out their brass breast-pins, two or more to each, with several feet of watch-chain jingling in front. The landlord of the Eagle termed these gatherings his "winter harvest."
Another amusement, frequent in the country, was the turnout of the "Calathumpian Band." The band, I am aware, did not originate with Puddleford. Newly-married couples were serenaded before it ever had an existence there. But this band was one of the very finest specimens. No one knew exactly who its members were; but they were always on hand, soon after a wedding, in full uniform, with all their instruments in order. It was organized when the country was very new, and was, at the period I refer to, in the highest state of prosperity.