Fruitlands Read Free Page A

complained, “There are fish nibbling at my toes.”
    The morning was cold, and Mother just splashed the water on her face and hands and did not go into the river at all.
    Yesterday Father gave in and concocted showers for us. A rough wooden frame was placed near the stream and covered with sheets. Anna, Lizzie, and I along with Mother, who held Abby May, stood inside. Father climbed up some wooden steps and poured pitchers of water over us. After a minnow landed on Lizzie’s head, Father poured the rest of the water through a sieve. After she was soaped, Abby May was so slippery and squirmed so, Mother could hardly hold her.
    Mr. Abraham Everett has come to live with us. He has soft brown eyes and long hair which curls at the ends. He is a fine addition, for he says little and works hard, unlike the others who much prefer talk to work. He has asked me to call him Abraham.
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    J UNE 24, 1843
    Today is Lizzie’s birthday. She is eight years old. Anna and I tiptoed out of the attic before Lizzie was awaketo join Mother and William. It was just dawn and the sky was pink at the edges. The air was full of the smell of sweet clover. There was such a chorus of birdsong, I could not help joining in and whistled as loudly as any of the birds. We hung Lizzie’s presents on a small pine tree. Even Abby May had a present. She had wrapped up a dozen raisins she had saved from her dinner the night before. My present was a pincushion I had fashioned from a bit of bright blue ribbon Mother gave me. I think it the prettiest thing on the tree.
    After breakfast we led Lizzie out into the woods for her surprise. Abraham said he must stay and work and did not go with us. Anna made oak-leaf wreaths for everyone to wear so that we all looked like wood sprites, even Mr. Lane, who wore his wreath cocked on one side of his head. We sang, and Father read a noble poem he had composed. I am sure nowhere in the world were people so happy on this morning as we were.
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    J UNE 24, 1843
    I could not have been more surprised. Mr. Lane played hisfiddle in such a merry way, he did not seem at all like the sour man he is most of the time. Perhaps his fiddle is like my pen when I use it. Perhaps his finer nature shines forth in his music as I sincerely hope mine shines forth in my writing, though I am afraid that is not always true.
    Lizzie was delighted with her presents and danced about with pleasure. Lizzie has the best nature of all of us. She is cheerful and never cross. Unlike Anna, she does not show off her goodness.
    Mother, who is at her happiest when we are happy, sang in a loud voice. Father stood over us smiling, but I could see he was thinking on some lesson he could make of the celebration so that all our pleasure should not be wasted.
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    J UNE 30, 1843
    We are like bees in a hive, all of us busy at our tasks. Lizzie, Anna, and I are up at daybreak to help Mother prepare breakfast. As we eat, Father improves our minds by reading a passage from some great work. This morning we heard the words of the Quaker William Penn, who said we wash, dress, and perfume our bodiesbut are careless of our souls. The body, he said, shall have three or four new suits a year but the soul must wear its old clothes.
    With those words ringing in our ears, Anna, Lizzie, and I try to be cheerful in our duties. We clear the table and wash the dishes while Mother begins the laundry. Soon we are all at the scrub board, our arms in suds up to our elbows, while Mother boils the bed linens in the copper kettle to get them spotless. There is no finer sight than white sheets spread over green grass to bleach in the sun. It is like a field of snow in the midst of summer.
    Afterward I scour the copper kettle with a teacupful of vinegar and a tablespoonful of salt to make it shine. I smell of vinegar all afternoon.
    The men, even William, are in the fields. They have planted three acres of corn, two acres of potatoes, winter wheat, and much barley, which