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‘this time?
178
“I‘ll boost you right over the Alps, Old
Cacsarl" she laughed. “You've got to
> march right along this aftemoonl" ‘ She
had forgotten the Beautiful White Snob
and all other embittering'things. The
peace of the woods entered into her tired
young soul. In the heart of 'them she
and Old Cresar marched triumphantly to
victory. Jane arrctt was no longer a
toiler at uncongenial ‘ ' ' was con-
genial.
It was soft, cool evening when her tired
feet bore her rested .soul homeward.
Lights flared breezily at two of the Ilar-
>‘ rison windows. Jane was idly surprised
that it should be the kitchen‘wirv‘nws, at
this late hour. She,followed the curving
V little path round the house to investigate.
‘ The room"was clearlyydefined to her '
astonished'gazc.w In the middle of it, a
Harrison apron'bulkily'draped over her
white clothes, stood Miss Sylvia-Marie
Van Dykc! She was stirring something
on the stove at one moment, ‘the next
darting across the floor'to inspect criti-A
cally.the‘ thin trickle of crimson juice
from a jelly bag. I .
“That you, Theedie? Got all of them
Oh, it isn't Theedie at all!"
‘No‘-it’s‘Jane," gasped thevgirl in the
doorway, scarcely conscious of speaking.
“’hat was this strange thing going on at
night in her kitchen-at her stove-table
-sink? -
"Well, I'm-I'm pleased to meet youl
VVon’t you walk in?" bubbled the aston-
ishing person in Mrs. Harrison's apron.
“Mercy! My ‘jell’l Theedie, stir it a
mite while I jogglc the jelly bag a min-
ute. It's going to be beautiful and clear."
To Jane she turned with rapid explana-
tion, on her way back to the stove.‘
“Mrs. Harrison said I could. I used to
make lovely jelly before mother-when
mother and I kept house. You see,
couldn't bear that row of tumblers of
Aunt Jelly Ann’s! If you had seen them
-and she didn’t'know. She thought it
was beautiful, clear prize ‘jell.’ But
Theedie and I knew, didn't we, Theedie?
And I-cried, coming home.” '
“‘I cried,” muttered Theedie. “Out’n
the woodshed. Aunt Ann kep’ a-sayin’
what luck she'd had an’ how she'd get
the forty-oneth prize this year. ‘ it
warn‘t a single mite clear an’ there sliet
couldn't see.
“Poor Aunt Jelly Ann! It was so piti-
ful. So we thought we'd strain it over
and make it clear, Theedie and I. “’c’re
just letting it drip-not a squeezel And
I remembered mother's secret for clear-
ing jelly, too-it's goin to come out
beautifully. Theedie’: been such a help!
He brought over all the tumblers, but
we're going to take them back together.
I'm making a little extra to make up for
the shrinking-there's got to be twelve
tumblers of fair jell’ put back on that
window sill! I'm so glad Aunt Jelly Ann
need never know, to trouble her-oh. my
goodness, will you listen to me talk! It's
my first real chance at kVest Addams.
I've been dumb with lonesomeness.”
shakily
laughed Jane
didn't,know-I never dreamed"--.
“I didn't know-I thought-neither did
I ever dream.” laughed Sylvia-Marie.
“I've just envied you with something to
do out ,here. Kitchens are so much
homier than hammocks on porches.”. .'
“Envied-me!" Jane could "not for the
moment get beyond that. In sheer amaze-
ment she sank into Mrs. ,Ilarrison,‘s
kitchen rocker and gazed at the girl whom
she had thought a snob. " "'
choked -Jane's throat-something dizzied
her vision. T'heodore's squat little blue-
jeans figure doubled and dancedbefore
her eyes. If she had not wanted to cry
she would have laughed. .
Suddenly she did laugh. sitting back in
the rocker-clearly, relievingly. ‘Two
other laughs joined in instinctively and
the hot little room rang with the good,
healthy noise.
“You’ve g-got two jelly spots on your
n-n-ose and one over your l-l-eft eye, but
they’re becoming to you-they're DEF"
fectly beautiful smooches,” she stuttered.
“I think you're perfectly beautiful all
over-don't look over here at me and see
I feel ’em on my soul."
on the three of them, sobered now.
Jane got up and rolled up her sleeves.
The matter-of-fact little motion was sav-
ingly simple and successful.
“Now I'll wash the dishes,” Jane said.
' five-acre
THE VVELLSPRING
AA? coi.oNiAi FARMER BOTANIST
By John '1'. Paris
FEIV rods from the bank of the
Schuylkill River, in West Philadel-
phia, stands aii ancient stone house
beneath one of whose windows is a rudely
carved stone with this inscription:
It is God Alone, Almyty Lord,
The Holy One y me Ador‘d.
lolm Bartram i77o.
This confession of faith was added to
the'house many years after the earnest
Quaker owner built it. For another stone,
set in the south wall, has this record:
Iohn: Ann: Bartram: I7Jl.
The quaint house was built by John
Bartram's own hands, in the midst of a
tract of land which ‘be transformed from
a wilderness into a garden, hearing all‘
manner of trees and fruits and plants,
gathered from up and down the Atlantic
Coast and as far into the interior as the
Alleghany Mountains.
The plain Quaker gardener, who was
born March 23, 1699. had little oppor-
tunity to attend school, but he made up
for the lack by teaching‘ himself. He
learned'I.atin and Creek in the intervals
of his farm work. He was a diligent
farmer, and his crops were abundant, but
he was not content to plant the seed and
reap the grain; he wanted to know more
of, the wonders of God's world. His son
‘Villiam wrote of him: “While engaged
in plowing his fields and mowing his
meadows, his inquisitive eye and mind
were frequently exercised in the contem-
plation of vegetables; the beaiity-and
harmony. displayed in t eir mechanism,
the admirable system of ,order,which the
great Author of the universe has estab-
lished throughout their various tribes. and
the equally wonderful powers of their
generation, the progress of their growth,
and the various stages of their maturity
and perfection.” l
As he studied, there can-i to him the
desire to plant his garden;
a piece of ground at a tax ale, built his
house, hewed out of stone algreat water;
ing trough, which is still shown to visit
ors, contrived a wonderful cider mill i
a ledge of outcropping rock on the ban‘
of the river, and proceeded to lay out a
garden-the first botanical
garden in America.
Eager to include in his garden speci-
mens from all parts of the country, he
occupied a portion of each year in labo-
rious journeys. “Neither dangers nor diffi-
lculties impeded or confined his researches
after objects in natural history. The
summits of our highest mountains were
ascended‘ and explored by him. The
Lakes Ontario, Iroquois and George; the
shores and sources of the rivers Hudson,
Delaware. Schuylkill, Susquehanna, Alle-
gheny and San Juan were visited by him
at an early period, when it was truly a
perilous undertaking to travel in the ter-
ritories, or even on the frontiers of the
‘ aborigines.
' His son XVilIiam wrote in regardyto
these trips:
sand miles in Carolina and Florida. At
the advanced age of near seventy years,
embarking on board of a vessel at Phila-
delphia, he set sail for, Charleston, in
South Carolina. ‘From thence he pro-
iceeided, by'land,'through part of Carolina
and Georgia, to St‘. Augustine‘in Florida.
0 he bought '
“He traveled several thou-.
I.Vhen he arrived at the last-meiitioiied
place-being then appointed botanist and
naturalist for the king of England, for
exploring the provinces-he received his
orders to search for the sources of the
great river San Juan (or St. John).
Leaving St. Augustine, he traveled’ by
land to the banks of the river, and em-
barking in a boat at Picolata,-ascended
that great and beautiful river (near four
hundred miles) to its sourcesuattending
carefully to its various branches and the
lakes connected with it. Having ascended
on one side of the river, he descended by
the other side to its confluence with the
sea.” The notes made on the trip were
later sent to England, and,were received
with gratitude by his royal employer. '
‘rm: ow ‘CVYRUS -rues.
A delightfulglimpse of life at the Bar-
tram home is given in these extracts from
a letter from a visitor to America, writ-
ten in 1769, and published in London in
' “Letters from an American
1.
“I was received at the door by a woman
dressed extremely neat and simple, who
asked me who I wanted. I answered, ‘I
should be glad to see Mr. Bartram.’
thee will step in and take a chair I will
send for him.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I had rather
have the pleasure of walking through his
farm.’ After alittle time I perceived the
Schuylkill, winding through delightful
mea ows, and soon cast my eye on a
new-made bank, which seemed greatly to
confine its stream. I at last reached, the
place where two men were at work. An
elderly looking man, with wide trousers
and large leather apron on, looking at me,
said: ‘My name, is Bartram. Dost thee
‘I should be glad to spend a
few hours in your garden,’ I said. ‘Our
jaunt into the garden must be postponed
for the present, as the bell is ringing for
dinner.’ “fe entered into a large hall.
where there was a long table full of vict-
>-7
-.
EAST SIDE, nxrnm nousii.
5 .
4, J M
Voi. Lxx. No. 23
uals; at the lowest part sat his negrocs;
his hired men were next; then the family
and myself,‘ and atvthe head, the venerable
father and his wife presided. Each re-
clined his head and said his prayers. . . .
"‘Pray, Mr. Bartram, what banks are
those which you are making; to what
purpose is so much expense and so much
labor bestowed?‘ I asked. ‘No branch of
industry was ever more profitable to any
country, as‘ well as the proprietors,’ he re-
plied. ‘The Schuylkill in its many wind-
ings, once covered a great extent of
ground, though its waters were but. shal-
low even in our highest tides; and though
some parts were always dry, yet the whole
of this great tract presented to the eye
nothing but a putrid, swampy soil, useless
either for the plow or the scythe. The
proprietors of these grounds are now in-
corporated; we yearly pay to the treas-
urer of the company a certain sum. which
makes an aggregate superior to the casual-
ties that generally happen, either by the
inundations or the musk squash (musk-
rat). It is owing to this happy contri-
vance that so many thousand acres of
meadow have een rescued from the
Schuylkill which now both enricheth and
embellisheth so much of the neighbor-
hood of our city.’
“‘Pray, sir, what expense are you at
ere these grounds be fit for the scythe?’
I asked. ‘The expenses are very con-
siderable, particularly when we have land,
brooks, trees and bush to clear away;
but such is the excellence of these hot-
toms, and the goodness of the grass for
the fattening of cattle, that the produce
of three years pays all advances.’
“W'e went into the garden, which con-
tained a great variety of curious plants
and shrubs; some grew in a greenhouse,
over the door of which was written these
lines:
“ ‘Slave to no sect, who takes no private‘
roa ,
But logksd through nature, up to nature's
o .’
“We went to view his favorite bank;
he showed me the principles and method
on which it was erected; and we walked
over the grounds which had been already
drained. The whole store of, nature's
lkind luxuriance seemed to have been ex-
hausted on these beautiful meadows; he
made me count the amazing number of
cattle and horses now feeding on solid
bottoms, which but a few years before
been covered with water. . . . e
next showed me his orchard, formerly
planted on a barren, sandy soil, but long
since converted into one of the richest
spots in that vicinage. ‘This,’ said he,
‘is altogether the fruit of my own con-
trivance. I purchased, some years ago,
the privilege of a small spring, about a
mic and a al from hence, which at
considerable expense, I have brought to
this reservoir; theiein I throw old lime,
ashes, horse dung, and so forth, and twice
a week I let it run, thus impregnated. I
regularly spread on this ground, in the
fall, old hay,‘straw and whatever dani-
aged fodder I have about my barn." By
these simple means, I mow, one year with
another, fifty-three hundreds of excellent
hay per acre, from a soil which scarcely
produced five fingers (that is. cinquefoil)
some years before. lVithin the banks
of my meadow ditches, I have greatly en-
riched my upland fields; those which I
intend to rest for a few years, I con-
stantly sow with red clover, which is the
greatest meliorator of our lands. For
three years after, they yield abundant
pasture. When I want to break up my
clover fields, I give them a good coat of
mud, which hath been exposed to the
severities of three or four of our winters.
'l11is is the reason that I commonly reap
from twenty-eight to thirty-six bushels
of wheat an acre; my flax, oats and In-
dian corn I raise in the same proportion.”
he curious visitor asked Mr. Bartram
how he learned to love botany. Thought-
fully the answer was given: “One day I
was very busy in holding my plow (for
thee seest, I am but a plowman), and be-
ing weary, I ran under the shade of a
tree tovrefresh myself. I cast my eye on
a daisy; I‘plucked it mechanically, and
viewed it with more curiosity than com-
mon country farmers are wont to do, and
observed therein very many distinct parts,
some perpendicular-some horizontal.
‘“'hat a shame.‘ said my mind. .or some-
thing that inspired my mind, ‘that thee
shoulclst have employed so many years in
5‘
m
5 .u--.
