Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 6, June 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 6, June 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
“These humourous retorts are ever at her tongue’s end; and,
albeit, as Jacky one day angrilie remarked, when she had beene
teazing him, ‘Bess, thy witt is stupidnesse;’ yet, for one who
talks soe much at random, no one can be more keene when she
chooseth. Father sayd of her, half fondly, half apologeticallie
to Erasmus. ‘Her wit has a fine subtletie that eludes you
almoste before you have time to recognize it for what it really
is.’ To which, Erasmus readilie assented, adding, that it had
y^{e} rare meritt of playing less on persons than things, and
never on bodilie defects.
“Hum!—I wonder if they ever sayd as much in favour of me. I
knowe, indeede, Erasmus calls me a forward girl! Alas! that may
be taken in two senses.”
* * * * *
“Grievous work, overnighte, with y^{e} churning. Nought w^{d}
persuade Gillian but that y^{e} creame was bewitched by Gammer
Gurney, who was dissatisfyde last Friday with her dole, and
hobbled away mumping and cursing. At alle events y^{e} butter
w^{d} not come; but mother was resolute not to have soe much
good creame wasted; soe sent for Bess and me, Daisy and Mercy
Giggs, and insisted on our churning in turn till y^{e} butter
came, if we sate up all nighte for’t. ’Twas a hard saying; and
mighte have hampered her like as Jephtha his rash vow: howbeit,
soe soone as she had left us, we turned it into a frolick, and
sang Chevy Chase from end to end, to beguile time;
ne’erthelesse, the butter w^{d} not come; soe then we grew
sober, and, at y^{e} instance of sweete Mercy, chaunted y^{e}
119th Psalme; and, by the time we had attayned to ‘Lucerna
pedibus,’ I heard y^{e} buttermilk separating and splashing in
righte earnest. ’Twas neare midnighte, however; and Daisy had
fallen asleep on y^{e} dresser. Gillian will ne’er be convinced
but that our Latin brake the spell.”
A few pages farther, we are let into the secret of the who, and the
wherefore, of the aforesaid merry damsels, “Daisy and Bess, and Mercy
Giggs, and I,” who are to be our delectable companions through many a
mirthful, many a melancholy page.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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