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→Dress and Peaches
==Dress and Peaches==
One morning, Uncle William came with a horse and buggy just after breakfast. "Fanny, I am going into the country; I thought Mercy would like to go with me."
Alas! Mercy's hair was not freshly braided nor was her dress suited for a drive with her fastidious uncle, and he could not wait. "I'll call for Dora", he said, as he went out. Dora was my cousin, the daughter of father's half-brother, James.
Now Dora was pretty, and her mother's first care was to curl Dora's hair, and dress her with pretty clothes. No doubt Dora would be ready. It was a great humiliation to me, but a wholesome one which spurred me to greater care of my person and dress. I decided not to depend on my mother to braid my hair, but to do it myself. I had heard Uncle William said to my mother: "Fanny, you dress Mercy too old for her age." Poor mother, she had never learned dressmaking but she made all my dresses.
Methodists in those days were a very plain people. My mother never wore feathers or flowers, nor did she approve of bows of ribbon. She did not wear jewelry, not even a plain brooch or ring. How could her little daughter be other than plainly dressed?
I think I'll tell you a "really truly" story about myself at this time, at the risk of shocking some reader. Little girls wore bonnets in those days, straw bonnets that came close to the face. It was springtime, and the bonnets had wreaths of tiny rose-buds, pink, or possibly white daisies. Oh! How pretty they were. But my bonnet had a plain white ruche, like my grandmother's cap. As I put it away after meeting, I heard my father say to my mother, "Fanny, I think you ought to have had a wreath in Mercy's bonnet." "Why do you think so?" "Well, I saw her looking around at the girls' bonnets. I believe she will think more about her bonnet than she would if it were like the rest." Mother did not reply.
It happened, the next Sunday, that Uncle William came in just as I got my bonnet to go to Sunday School. I took off the cover of the band-box, and could I believe my eyes? Yes, there was a wreath of pink rose-buds in MY bonnet. Clapping my hands, I exclaimed, "Oh, glory, hallelujah!" Then I felt frightened. I had not meant to say that. Uncle William laughed and said, "Mercy's a Methodist, all right, Fanny; flowers won't hurt her." But it did not end there. I felt that my mother was grieved, and, somehow, I didn't enjoy the wreath. Before the week was over I asked her to take it out and put back the ruche, and she did.
Now about the peaches. I had missed the drive int he country with my uncle, but I was to enjoy one with my father. Peaches were ripe, and the crop was so large that bushels and bushels were left to rot on the ground. It did not pay to take them to market, and the process of canning was not yet known. A farmer had said, "Come out and help yourself to peaches." So into the country we went, enjoying everything: the blue skies and fleecy clouds overhead; the soft summer breezes, the fields and the thrifty overladen orchards. We went home with several bushels of peaches in the back of the wagon: beauties, white and yellow, as large as oranges. Newspapers were spread on the floor of a vacant chamber and the peaches carefully spread out upon them. For many days we FEASTED on peaches.
==Chills and Fever==
==Protracted Meetings==