An anecdote is told of a woman living in a quiet little New England village who complained of her loneliness there, where the quilting bees were the only saving features of an otherwise colourless existence. She told the interested listener that in this out-of-the-way hamlet she did not mind the monotony much because there were plenty of “quiltings,” adding that she had helped that winter at more than twenty-five quilting bees; besides this, she had made a quilt for herself and also helped on some of those of her immediate neighbours.
THE WILD ROSE
That loves to grow in fragrant, tangled masses by the roadside was made to march in prim rows on this child’s quilt
American women rarely think of quilts as being made or used outside of their own country. In reality quilts are made in almost every land on the face of the earth. Years ago, when the first New England missionaries were sent to the Hawaiian Islands, the native women were taught to piece quilts, which they continue to do down to this day. These Hawaiian women treasure their handiwork greatly, and some very old and beautiful quilts are to be found among these islands. In creating their patchwork they have wandered from the Puritanical designs of their teachers, and have intermingled with the conventional figures the gorgeous flowers that bloom beside their leaf-thatched, vine-covered huts. To these women, also, patchwork fills a place. It affords a means of expression for individuality and originality in the same way that it does for the lonely New England women and for the isolated mountaineers of Kentucky.
Harriet Beecher Stowe, immortalized by “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” produced other stories, not now so familiar to us as to our countrymen of the Civil War period, which showed an intimate knowledge of the home life of the American people as well as the vital questions of her day. In her novel entitled the “Minister’s Wooing,” which ran first as a serial in the Atlantic Monthly in 1859, she describes a quilting supposed to have been given about the year 1800. Here we can view at close range a real old-fashioned quilting, and gain some insight into its various incidents of sociability and gossip, typical of an early New England seafaring village, as set forth in Mrs. Stowe’s inimitable style:
“By two o’clock a goodly company began to assemble. Mrs. Deacon Twitchel arrived, soft, pillowy, and plaintive as ever, accompanied by Cerinthy Ann, a comely damsel, tall and trim, with a bright black eye and a most vigorous and determined style of movement. Good Mrs. Jones, broad, expansive, and solid, having vegetated tranquilly on in the cabbage garden of the virtues since three years ago, when she graced our tea party, was now as well preserved as ever, and brought some fresh butter, a tin pail of cream, and a loaf of cake made after a new Philadelphia receipt. The tall, spare, angular figure of Mrs. Simeon Brown alone was wanting; but she patronized Mrs. Scudder no more, and tossed her head with a becoming pride when her name was mentioned.
“The quilt pattern was gloriously drawn in oak leaves, done in indigo; and soon all the company, young and old, were passing busy fingers over it, and conversation went on briskly.