PAGE 3
Aunt Mary’s Preserving Kettle
by
Hannah took the kettle, and started for home at full speed.
“So you’ve got it at last,” Said Aunt Mary, when Hannah entered; “and a pretty looking thing it is! Really it is too bad to have a thing sent home in that predicament.”
“But ain’t she mad though!” remarked Hannah, with something of exultation in her tones.
“What in the world can she be mad about?” asked Aunt Mary in surprise.
“Mad because I would have the kittle. Why, there she had her mamlet on the fire, boiling away, and said you couldn’t have the kittle. But I told her you must have it; that your preserves were nearly all spoiled, just because you couldn’t get your own kittle. Oh, but didn’t she bile over then! And so she told Sally to pour the mamlet into the slop barrel, as it would all be spoiled any how, by your unneighbourly treatment to her.”
Poor Aunt Mary was dreadfully grieved at this. She loved the good opinion of her neighbours, and it always gave her pleasure to oblige them; but, in this case, she had been tried beyond endurance. She had little heart now to touch her preserves, and so went off to her chamber and sat down, overcome by painful feelings.
In the mean time, Hannah went to work, and, by dint of half an hour’s hard scouring, got the kettle to look something like itself. She then went up and told Aunt Mary that every thing was now ready for doing the preserves over again.
“I reckon we’ll not boil them over to-day, Hannah,” she replied. “It’s Saturday, and you’ve got a good deal of cleaning to do, and I don’t feel much like touching them. The preserves won’t get much worse by Monday.”
Hannah, who understood her mistress’s feelings, and sympathized with her, because she loved her, did not urge the matter, but at once withdrew and left Aunt Mary to her own unpleasant reflections. It so happened that the next day was the Communion Sabbath; and this fact had at once occurred to Aunt Mary when Hannah repeated the words of Mrs. Tompkins, and stated that she was very angry. Mrs. Tompkins was a member and communicant of the same church with her. After sitting thoughtfully in her chamber for some time, Aunt Mary took up the communion service and commenced reading it. When she came to the words, “Ye who do truly and earnestly repent of your sins, and are in love and charity with your neighbours,” etc. etc., she paused and sat thoughtful and troubled for some time.
“Am I in love and charity with my neighbours?” she at length asked herself, aloud, drawing a heavy sigh.
“No, I am not,” was the mental response. “Mrs. Tompkins is angry with me, and I am sure I do not feel right towards her.”
During all that afternoon, Aunt Mary remained in her chamber, in deep communion with herself. For the last twenty years she had never, on a single occasion, stayed away from the Lord’s table; but now she felt that she dared not go forward, for she was not in love and charity with her neighbours, and the injunction was explicit. Night came, and at the usual hour she retired, but not to sleep the sweet refreshing sleep that usually locked up her senses. Her thoughts were so active and troubled, that she could not sink away into a quiet slumber until long after midnight. In the morning she felt no better, and, as church time approached, her heart beat more heavily in her bosom. Finally, the nine o’clock bell rang, and every stroke seemed like a knell. At last the hour for assembling came, and Aunt Mary, cast down in heart, repaired to the meeting-house. The pew of Mrs. Tompkins was just in front of Aunt Mary’s, but that lady did not turn around and smile and give her hand as usual when she entered. All this Aunt Mary felt.