Part 13 (1/2)

A merry party of pioneer young people, invited to spend the evening at a neighbor's, were promised the luxury of a candy-pull. The first batch was put on to boil and the a.s.sembled youngsters engaged in old fas.h.i.+oned games to while away the time. Unfortunately for their hopes the mola.s.ses burned and they were obliged to throw it away. There was a reserve in the jug, however, and the precious remainder was set over the fire and the games went on again. Determined to succeed, the hostess stirred, while an equally anxious and careful guest held the light, a small fish-oil lamp. The lamp had a leak and was set on a tin plate; in her eagerness to light the bubbling saccharine substance and to watch the stirring-down, she leaned over a little too far and over went the lamp directly into the mola.s.ses.

What consternation fell upon them! The very thought of the fish-oil was nauseating, and that was all the mola.s.ses. There was no candy-pulling, there being no grocery just around the corner where a fresh supply might be obtained, indeed mola.s.ses and syrup were very scarce articles, brought from a great distance.

The guests departed, doubtless realizing that the ”best laid plans ...

gang aft agley.”

The climate of Puget Sound is one so mild that snow seldom falls and ice rarely forms as thick as windowgla.s.s, consequently travel, traffic and amus.e.m.e.nt are scarcely modified during the winter, or more correctly, the rainy season. Unless it rained more energetically than usual, the children went on with their games as in summer.

The long northern twilight of the summertime and equally long evenings in winter had each their special charm.

The pictures of winter scenes in eastern magazines and books looked strange and unfamiliar to us, but as one saucy girl said to a tenderfoot from a blizzard-swept state, ”We see more and deeper snow everyday than you ever saw in your life.”

”How is that?” said he.

”On Mount Rainier,” she answered, laughing.

Even so, this magnificent mountain, together with many lesser peaks, wears perpetual robes of snow in sight of green and blooming sh.o.r.es.

When it came to decorating for Christmas, well, we had a decided advantage as the evergreens stood thick about us, millions of them. Busy fingers made lavish use of rich garlands of cedar to festoon whole buildings; handsome Douglas firs, reaching from floor to ceiling, loaded with gay presents and blazing with tapers, made the little ”clam-diggers'” eyes glisten and their mouths water. In the garden the flowers bloomed often in December and January, as many as twenty-six varieties at once.

One New Year's day I walked down the garden path and plucked a fine, red rosebud to decorate the New Year's cake.

The p.u.s.s.y-willows began the floral procession of wildlings in January and the trilliums and currants were not far behind unless a ”cold snap”

came on in February and the flowers _dozed on_, for they never seem to _sleep_ very profoundly here. By the middle of February there was, occasionally, a general display of bloom, but more frequently it began about the first of March, the seasons varying considerably.

The following poem tells of favorite flowers gathered in the olden time ”i' the spring o' the year!”

In the summertime we had work as well as play, out of doors. The garden surrounding our cottage in 1863, overflowed with fruits, vegetables and flowers. Nimble young fingers were made useful in helping to tend them.

Weeding beds of spring onions and lettuce, sticking peas and beans, or hoeing potatoes, were considered excellent exercise for young muscles; no need of physical ”culchuah” in the school had dawned upon us, as periods of work and rest, study and play, followed each other in healthful succession.

Having a surplus of good things, the children often went about the village with fresh vegetables and flowers, more often the latter, generous bouquets of fragrant and spicy roses and carnations, sweet peas and nasturtiums, to sell. Two little daughters in pretty, light print dresses and white hats were flower girls who were treated like little queens.

There was no disdain of work to earn a living in those days; every respectable person did something useful.

For recreation, we went with father in the wagon over the ”b.u.mpy” road when he went to haul wood, or perhaps a long way on the county road to the meadow, begging to get off to gather flowers whenever we saw them peeping from their green bowers.

Driving along through the great forest which stood an almost solid green wall on either hand, we called ”O father, stop! stop; here is the lady-slipper place.”

”Well, be quick, I can't wait long.”

Dropping down to the ground, we ran as fast as our feet could carry us to gather the lovely, fragrant orchid, Calypso Borealis, from its mossy bed.

When the ferns were fully grown, eight or ten feet high, the little girls broke down as many as they could drag, and ran along the road, great ladies, with long green trains!

[Ill.u.s.tration: A VISIT FROM OUR TILLIc.u.m]

We found the way to the opening in the woods, where in the midst thereof, grandfather sat making cedar s.h.i.+ngles with a drawing knife.

Huge trees lay on the ground, piles of bolts had been cut and the heap of s.h.i.+ngles, clear and straight of the very best quality, grew apace.