My Wife and I; Or, Harry Henderson's HistoryStowe, Harriet Beecher
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My Wife and I; Or, Harry Henderson's History
Stowe, Harriet Beecher
American fiction -- 19th century; Courtship -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Romance fiction
After that, I remember many gay and joyous passages in that happiest
summer of my life. How, when autumn came, we roved through the woods
together, and gathered such stores of glossy brown chestnuts. What joy
it was to us to scuff through the painted fallen leaves and send them
flying like showers of jewels before us! How I reconnoitered and marked
available chestnut trees, and how I gloried in being able to climb like
a cat, and get astride high limbs and shake and beat them, and hear the
glossy brown nuts fall with a rich, heavy thud below, while Susie was
busily picking up at the foot of the tree. How she did flatter me with
my success and prowess! Tom Halliday might be a bigger boy, but he could
never go up a tree as I could; and as for that great clumsy Jim Fellows,
she laughed to think what a figure he would make, going out on the end
of the small limbs, which would be sure to break and send him bundling
down. The picture which Susie drew of the awkwardness of the big boys
often made us laugh till the tears rolled down our cheeks. To this day I
observe it as a weakness of my sex that we all take it in extremely good
part when the pretty girl of our heart laughs at other fellows in a
snug, quiet way, just between one's dear self and herself alone. We
encourage our own dear little cat to scratch and claw the sacred
memories of Jim or Tom, and think that she does it in an extremely
cunning and diverting way--it being understood between us that there is
no malice in it--that "Jim and Tom are nice fellows enough, you
know--only that somebody else is so superior to them," etc.
Susie and I considered ourselves as an extremely forehanded, well-to-do
partnership, in the matter of gathering in our autumn stores. No pair of
chipmonks in the neighborhood conducted business with more ability. We
had a famous cellar that I dug and stoned, where we stored away our
spoils. We had chestnuts and walnuts and butternuts, as we said, to last
us all winter, and many an earnest consultation and many a busy hour did
the gathering and arranging of these spoils cost us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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