Part 13 (1/2)

”Say, Joe, you're jokin',--hev you really got one?”

”You can look for yourselves.”

”I saw one go through here 'bout six o'clock,” interrupted a new-comer. ”Great Jehosephat, but 't went like a streak of greased lightnin'.”

”War that your'n, Joe?”

”Well--”

”Naw,” said the new-comer, scornfully. ”Joe ain't got no aut'mobile; there's the feller in there now who runs it,” and the crowd turned my way with such interest that I turned to the little table and wrote the despatch, quite losing the connection of the subdued murmurs outside; but it was quite evident from the broken exclamations that my host was filling the populace up with information interesting inversely to its accuracy.

”Mile a minute--faster'n a train--Holy Moses! what's that, Joe?

broke axle--telegraphed--how many--four more--you don't say so?-- what's his name? I'll bet it's Vanderbilt. Don't you believe it-- it costs money to run one of those machines. I'll bet he's a dandy from 'way back--stopping at your house--bridal chamber--that's right--you want to kill the fatted calf for them fellers--say--”

But further comments were cut short as I came out, jumped in, and we drove back to a good supper by candle-light.

The stars were s.h.i.+ning over head, the air was clear and crisp, down in the valley of Lebanon the mist was falling, and it was cool that night. Lulled by the monotonous song of the tree-toad and the deep ba.s.s croaking of frogs by the distant stream, we fell asleep.

There was nothing to do next day. The new steering-head could not possibly arrive until the morning following. As the farm was worked by a tenant, our host had little to do, and proposed that we drive to the Shaker village a few miles beyond.

The visit is well worth making, and we should have missed it entirely if the automobile had not broken down, for the new State road over the mountain does not go through the village, but back of it. From the new road one can look down upon the cl.u.s.ter of large buildings on the side of the mountain, but the old roads are so very steep, with such interesting names as ”Devil's Elbow,” and the like, that they would not tempt an automobile. Many with horses get out and walk at the worst places.

One wide street leads through the settlement; on each side are the huge community buildings, seven in all, each occupied by a ”family,” so called, or community, and each quite independent in its management and enterprises from the others; the common ties being the meeting-house near the centre and the school-house a little farther on.

We stopped at the North Family simply because it was the first at hand, and we were hungry. Ushered into a little reception-room in one of the outer buildings, we were obliged to wait for dinner until the party preceding us had finished, for the little dining-room devoted to strangers had only one table, seating but six or eight, and it seemed to be the commendable policy of the inst.i.tution to serve each party separately.

A printed notice warned us that dinner served after one o'clock cost ten cents per cover extra, making the extravagant charge of sixty cents. We arrived just in time to be ent.i.tled to the regular rate, but the dilatory tactics of the party in possession kept us beyond the hour and involved us in the extra expense, with no compensation in the shape of extra dishes. Morally and--having tendered ourselves within the limit--legally we were ent.i.tled to dine at the regular rate, or the party ahead should have paid the additional tariff, but the good sister could not see the matter in that light, plead ignorance of law, and relied entirely upon custom.

The man who picks up a Shaker maiden for a fool will let her drop.

Having waited until nearly famished, the sister blandly told us, as if it were a matter of local interest, but otherwise of small consequence, that the North Family were strict vegetarians, serving no meat whatsoever; the only meat family was at the other end of the village.

We were ready for meat, for chickens, ducks, green goose, anything that walked on legs; we were not ready for pumpkin, squash, boiled potatoes, canned peas, and cabbage; but a theory as well as a condition confronted us; it was give in or move on. We gave in, but for fifteen cents more per plate bargained for preserves, maple syrup, and honey,--for something cloying to deceive the outraged palate.

But that dinner was a revelation of what a good cook can do with vegetables in season; it was the quintessence of delicacy, the refinement of finesse, the veritable apotheosis of the kitchen garden; meat would have been brutal, the intrusion of a chop inexcusable, the a.s.sertion of a steak barbarous, even a terrapin would have felt quite out of place amidst things so fragrant and impalpable as the marvellous preparations of vegetables from that wonderful Shaker kitchen.

Everything was good, but the various concoctions of sweet corn were better; and such sweet corn! it is still a savory recollection.

Then the variety of preserves, jellies, and syrups; fifteen cents extra were never bestowed to better advantage. We cast our coppers upon the water and they returned Spanish galleons laden with good things to eat.

After dining, we were walked through the various buildings, up stairs and down, through kitchens, pantries, and cellars,--a wise exercise after so bountiful a repast. In the cellar we drank something from a bottle labelled ”Pure grape juice,” one of those non-alcoholic beverages with which the teetotaler whips the devil around the stump; another gla.s.s would have made Shakers of us all, for the juice of the grape in this instance was about twenty-five per cent. proof. If the good sisters supply their worthy brothers in faith with this stimulating cordial, it is not unlikely that life in the village is less monotonous than is commonly supposed.

It certainly was calculated to add emphasis to the eccentricities of even a ”Shaking Quaker.”

Although the oldest and the wealthiest of all the socialistic communities, there are only about six thousand Shakers in the United States, less than one-fourth of what there were in former times.

At Mt. Lebanon, the first founded of the several societies in this country, there are seven families, or separate communities, each with its own home and buildings. The present members.h.i.+p is about one hundred and twenty, nearly all women,--scarcely enough men to provide the requisite deacons for each family.

Large and well-managed schools are provided to attract children from the outside world, and so recruit the diminis.h.i.+ng ranks of the faithful; but while many girls remain, the boys steal away to the heathen world, where marriage is an inst.i.tution.

Celibacy is the cardinal principle and the curse of Shakerism; it is slowly but surely bringing the sect to an end. It takes a lot of fanaticism to remain single, and fanaticism is in the sere and yellow leaf. In Ma.s.sachusetts, where so many women are compelled to remain single, there ought to be many Shakers; there are a few, and Mt. Lebanon is just over the line.