When Hannibal Hamlin Got The "Jonah"
The following story is a chapter from
the happy lives of six boys and girls on a Maine farm, in the
early sixties.
When President Lincoln sent out the call for troops at the
opening of the Civil War, five stalwart sons of a country
"Squire" entered the army of the Union.
Of the five, not one survived that awful
conflict. So it happened that their children, war waifs and
orphaned, came back in 1865-6 to live at their grandfather's old
farm on Lake Pennesseewassee in Oxford County.
They came from four different
states in the Union and two of the children had never even seen
their cousins. At the age of 65, the grandfather set himself to
till the farm on a larger scale and to renew his lumbering
operations. Grandmother, too, was constrained to increase her
flock of geese and other poultry and to begin anew the labor of
spinning and weaving. The boys assisted "the Squire," as their
grandfather was called, in the farm work, while the three girls
were "Gram's" little helpers.
The six cousins, Theodora, Ellen and
''Little Wealthy," Addison, Halstead and ''Edmund's boy" were a
merry group and had many an adventure. The story of those happy
years is told in several charming books written by Maine's
famous author, Dr. C. A. Stephens of Norway, known to all
readers of the Youth's Companion.
How these young folks entertained a
Vice-President of the United States is told in this story.
Part I. Fried Pies
One forenoon when our grandparents were
away for the day, we coaxed Theodora and Ellen to fry a batch of
three dozen pies, and two "Jonahs;'' and the girls, with some
misgivings as to what Gram would say to them for making such
inroads on "pie timber," set about it by ten o'clock.
They filled half a dozen with
mince-meat, half a dozen with stewed gooseberry, and then half a
dozen each, with crab-apple jelly, plum, peach and blackberry.
They would not let us see what they filled the "Jonahs" with,
but we knew it was a fearful load. Generally it was with
something shockingly sour, or bitter. The "Jonahs" looked
precisely like the others and were mixed with the others on the
platter which was passed at table, for each one to take his or
her choice. And the rule was that whoever got the ''Jonah pie"
must either eat it, or crawl under the table for a foot-stool
for the others during the rest of the meal!
What they actually put in the two ''Jonahs,"
this time, was wheat bran mixed with cayenne pepper an awful
dose. It is needless to say that the girls usually kept an eye
on the Jonah pie or placed some slight private mark on it, so as
not to get it themselves.
When we were alone and had something
particularly good on the table, Addison and Theodora had a habit
of making up rhymes about it, before passing it around, and
sometimes the rest of us attempted to join in the recreation,
generally with indifferent success. Kate Edwards had come in
that day, and being invited to remain to our feast of fried
pies, was contributing her wit to the rhyming contest, when,
chancing to glance out the window, Ellen espied a gray horse and
buggy with the top turned back, standing in the yard, and in the
buggy a large, elderly, dark-complexioned man, a stranger to all
of us, who sat regarding the premises with a smile of shrewd and
pleasant contemplation.
"Now who in the world can that be!"
exclaimed Ellen in low tones. "I do believe he has overheard
some of those awful verses you have been making up."
"But someone must go to the door,"
Theodora whispered. "Addison, you go out and see what he has
come for."
"He doesn't look just like a minister," said Halstead.
"Nor just like a doctor," Kate
whispered. "But he is somebody of consequence, I know, he looks
so sort of dignified and experienced."
"And what a good, old, broad,
distinguished face," said Ellen.
Thus their sharp young eyes took an
inventory of our caller, who, I may as well say here, was
Hannibal Hamlin, at that time but recently Vice-President of the
United States and one of the most famous anti-slavery leaders of
the Republican Party before the Civil War.
The old Hamlin homestead, where Hannibal
Hamlin passed his boyhood, was at Paris Hill, Maine, eight or
ten miles to the eastward of the Old Squire's farm; he and the
Old Squire had been young men together, and at one time quite
close friends and classmates at Hebron Academy.
In strict point of fact, Mr. Hamlin's
term of office as Vice-President with Abraham Lincoln had
expired; and at this time he had not entered on his long tenure
of the Senator-ship from Maine. Meantime he was Collector of
Customs for the Port of Boston, but a few days previously he had
resigned this office.
In the interim he was making a brief
visit to the scenes of his boyhood home, and had taken a fancy
to drive over to call on the Old Squire. But we of the younger
and lately arriving generation, did not even know "Uncle
Hannibal" by sight and had not the slightest idea who he was.
Addison went out, however, and asked if he should take his
horse.
"Why, Joseph S____ still lives here,
does he not?" queried Mr. Hamlin, regarding Addison's youthful
countenance inquiringly.
"Yes, sir," replied Addison, ''I am his
grandson."
''Ah, I thought you were rather young
for one of his sons," Mr. Hamlin remarked. ''I heard, too, that
he had lost all his sons in the War."
''Yes, sir," Addison replied soberly.
Mr. Hamlin regarded him thoughtfully for
a moment. "I used to know your grandfather," he said. "Is he at
home!"
Addison explained the absence of Gramp
and Gram. "I am very sorry they are away," he added.
"I am sorry, too," said Mr. Hamlin, "I
wanted to see them and say a few words to them." He began to
turn his horse as if to drive away, but Theodora, who was always
exceedingly hospitable, had gone out and now addressed our
caller with greater cordiality, "Will you not come in, sir?" she
exclaimed. "Grandfather will be very sorry! Do please stop a
little while and let the boys feed your horse."
Mr. Hamlin regarded her with a paternal
smile. "I will get out and walk around a bit, to rest my legs,"
he replied.
Once he was out of the buggy, Addison and I took his horse to
the stable; and Theodora, having first shown him the garden and
the long row of bee hives, led the way to the cool sitting-room,
and domesticated him in an easy chair. We heard her relating
recent events of our family history to him and answering his
questions.
Part II. The Jonahs
Meantime the fried pies were waiting and
getting cold. Addison and I had returned from the stable and
were beginning to feel a little impatient, when the sitting-room
door opened, and we heard "Doad" saying, "We haven't much for
luncheon today, but fried pies, but we shall all be glad to have
you sit down with us."
"What an awful fib!" whispered Ellen
behind her hand to Kate; and, truth to say, his coming had
rather upset our anticipated pleasure; but Mr. Hamlin had taken
a great fancy to Theodora and was accepting her invitation, with
vast good-nature.
What a great, dark man he looked, as he
followed Theodora out to the table.
"These are my cousins that I have told
you of,'' she was saying, and then mentioned all our names to
him and afterwards Kate's, although Mr. Hamlin had not seen fit
to tell us his own; we supposed that he was merely some pleasant
old acquaintance of Gramp's early years.
He was seated in Grampus place at table
and, after a brief flurry in the kitchen, the big platterful of
fried pies was brought in. What Ellen and Theodora had done was,
carefully to pick out the two "Jonahs" and lay them aside.
"And are these the "fried pies" he asked with the broadest of
smiles. "They resemble huge doughnuts. But I now remember that
my mother used to fry something like this when I was a boy at
home, over at Paris Hill; and my recollection is that they were
very good."
"Yes, the most of them are very good,"
said Addison, by way of making conversation, "unless you happen
to get the "Jonah."
"And what's the "Jonah?" asked our
visitor.
Amidst much laughter, this was explained
to him also the penalty. Mr. Hamlin burst forth in a great shout
of laughter, which led us to surmise that he enjoyed fun.
"But we have taken the "Jonahs' out of
these," Theodora made haste to reassure him.
"What for?" he exclaimed.
"Why why, because we have company,"
stammered Doad, much confused.
"And spoil the sport?" cried our
visitor. "Young lady, I want those 'Jonahs' put back."
"Oh, but they are awful 'Jonahs!' "
pleaded Theodora.
"I want those 'Jonahs' put back,"
insisted Mr. Hamlin. "I shall have to decline to lunch here,
unless the 'Jonahs' are in their proper places. Fetch in the 'Jonahs.'
"
Very shame-faced, Ellen brought them in.
"No hokus-pokus now," cried our visitor,
and nothing would answer, but that we should all turn our backs
and shut our eyes, while Kate put them among the others in the
platter.
It was then passed and all chose one.
''Each take a good, deep mouthful," cried Mr. Hamlin, entering
mirthfully into the spirit of the game. ''All together, now!"
We all bit, eight bites at once; as it
chanced no one got a "Jonah," and the eight fried pies rapidly
disappeared.
"But these are good!" cried our visitor.
"Mine was gooseberry." Then, turning to Theodora, "How many
times can a fellow try for a 'Jonah' here?"
"Five times!" replied Doad, laughing and
not a little pleased with the praise.
The platter was passed again, and again
no one got bran and cayenne.
But at the third passing, I saw Kate
start visibly when our visitor chose his pie. "All ready. Bite!
" he cried; and we bit! but at the first taste he stopped short,
rolled his eyes around and shook his head with his capacious
mouth full.
"Oh, but you need not eat it, sir!" cried Theodora, rushing
around to him.
But without a word our bulky visitor had
sunk slowly out of his chair and, pushing it back, disappeared
under the long table.
For a moment we all sat, scandalized,
then shouted in spite of ourselves. In the midst of our confused
hilarity, the table began to oscillate; it rose slowly several
inches, then moved off, rattling, toward the sitting-room door!
Our jolly visitor had it on his back and was crawling
ponderously but carefully away with it on his hands and knees;
and the rest of us were getting ourselves and our chairs out of
the way! In fact, the remainder of that luncheon was a perfect
gale of laughter. The table walked clean around the room and
came very carefully back to its original position.
After the hilarity had subsided, the
girls served some very nice, large, sweet blackberries, which
our visitor appeared to relish greatly. He told us of his
boyhood at Paris Hill; of his fishing for trout in the brooks
thereabouts, of the time he broke his arm and of the doctor who
set it so unskillfully that it had to be broken again and reset;
of the beautiful tourmaline crystals which he and his brother
found at Mt. Mica; and of his school days at Hebron Academy; and
all with such feeling and such a relish, that for an hour we
were rapt listeners.
When at length he declared that he
positively must be going on his way, we begged him to remain
over night, and brought out his horse with great reluctance.
Before getting into the buggy, he took
us each by the hand and saluted the girls, particularly "Doad, "
in a truly paternal manner.
"I've had a good time!" said he. "I am
glad to see you all here at this old farm in my dear native
State; but (and we saw the moisture start in his great black
eyes) it touches my heart more than I can tell you, to know of
the sad reason for your coming here. You have my heartiest
sympathy.
"Tell your grandparents that I should
have been very glad to see them," he added, as he got in the
buggy and took the reins from Addison.
"But, sir," said Theodora, earnestly,
for we were all crowding up to the buggy, "grandfather will ask
who it was that called.''
"Oh, well, you can describe me to him!"
cried Mr. Hamlin, laughing (for he knew how cut up we should
feel if he told us who he really was). "And if he cannot make me
out, you may tell him that it was an old fellow he once knew,
named Hamlin. Good-by." And he drove away. The name signified
little to us at the time.
"Well, whoever he is, he's an old
brick!" said Halse, as the gray horse and buggy passed between
the high gate-posts, at the foot of the lane.
"I think he is just splendid!" exclaimed
Kate, enthusiastically.
"And he has such a great, kind heart!"
said Theodora.
When Gramp and Gram came home, we were
not slow in telling them that a most remarkable elderly man,
named Hamlin, had called to see them, and stopped to lunch with
us.
"Hamlin, Hamlin," repeated the Old
Squire, absently. "What sort of looking man?"
Theodora and Ellen described him, with
much zest.
"Why, Joseph, it must have been
Hannibal!" cried Gram.
"So it was!" exclaimed Gramp. ''Too bad
we were not at home!"
''What! Not the Hannibal Hamlin that was
Vice-President of the United States!" Addison almost shouted.
And about that time, it would have
required nothing much heavier than a turkey's feather to bowl us
all over. Addison looked at ''Doad" and she looked at Ellen and
me. Halse whistled.
''Why, what did yon say, or do, that
makes you look so queer!" cried Gram, with uneasiness. ''I hope
you behaved well to him. Did anything happen?''
''Oh, no, nothing much," said Ellen,
laughing nervously. ''Only he got the 'Jonah' pie and and, we've
had the Vice-President of the United States under the table to
put our feet on!"
Gram turned very red and was much
disturbed. She wanted to have a letter written that night, and
try to apologize for us. But the Old Squire only laughed. "I
have known Mr. Hamlin ever since he was a boy," said he. "He
enjoyed that pie as well as any of them; no apology is needed."
C. A. Stephens
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