Gungawamp, Conn.
Dear Brad, -
I have been at Uncle Ezra’s just a week. Weather’s fine,
and there’s lots doing on the farm. This is more noticeable around mealtime.
You don’t know what ‘t is to be hungry on a farm, Brad. But you will if you
ever go to farming (Joke.) Uncle Ez. met me at the “deppo”, with the business
wagon. Said he had business in the village otherwise he would have taken out
the carriage. Uncle Ez. is all right. You know I was never in the country
before, and as I am a fairly bright young geze myself I thought I would have
some fun with the old landmarks around here. I begun on Uncle Ez. Coming out
from the station I saw a sight which caused me to say “Gee!”. Uncle Ez. looked
at me sideways and said, “Sho, Sam’l, they don’t say thet to hosses, thet’s the
way they drive cattle.”
It’s no boulevard from the station to Uncle Ezra’s
bungalow, and I was jarred to the pitt. He excused himself for meeting his city
friends with the lumber wagon. I told him I thought all wagons were made of
lumber. He didn’t see the joke, and said, No, some on ‘em are made uv bamboo,
an’ hev t’ be pushed.”
The next morning he wanted to grind his scythe, and asked
me if I would turn the grindstone. I told him I would take my turn at it. He
didn’t see the point and says, “She’s all waound up, play off.” After he had
ground one side I stopped.
“What’s the marter?” he asked.
“It’s your turn now,” I said.
“I’m soryy,” said he, “but I’m so old an’ my narves are
so unstiddy that I can’ turn a stun ha’f ez stiddy an’ even ez yew kin. Why, d’
yew know they hain’t a young man in the hull uv Gungawamp who kin turn a stun
ha’f ez stiddy ez yew kin?”
This pleased me so much that we ground four more scythes,
two axes, an hay knife and three of four hatchets, and Uncle Ezra said there
hadn’t been so much grinding in Gungawamp for years; not even at the grist
mill.
I asked him what was on after breakfast, and he said,
Most likey a hen.” I don’t catch these country jokes, somehow. He said if I
would put on one of his outing suits I might help him lay a stone wall. I asked
him where he was going to lay it and he said on the ground.
He said he had
expected all along that the hens were going to lay it for him, but his
expectations didn’t come off. I thought I had him cold, but you will see I didn’t.
“Now look here, Uncle Ezra,” said I, “it’s impossible for
hens to lay a stone wall.”
“O, no, Sam’l,” said he, “it’s easy. Yew see I ‘spected t’
git aigs enough t’ hire it done.”
Uncle Ezra asked me if I liked to fish. I said yes, but
more would be better. He said he didn’t “ketch on”, tho’ the fish might if I
didn’t spit on the bait. He said Gungawamp fish had some taste about biting.
I asked him this morning what folks do for excitement. “Waal”
says he, “gen’ly we try hivin’ a swarm uv bees, an’ thet gets tew dull we try
weedin’ eout the onion beds.” I asked him if people in the country had hives
like they did in the city. “O, yaas,” said he, , “jest erbaout the same, on’y
here in the kentry they’re a good deal wuss ef they once break eout.”
I asked Uncle Ezra if they had to import the hens that
laid the china eggs. “O, no,” he said, “I git them frum Hen Crockett daown tew
the village store.”
Then I asked him why he didn’t keep ducks, and he said he
didn’t believe in eating ducks eggs as they were likely to be quacks.
Well, Gungawamp is a dream of a place. I am looking
forward to some lively times as the neighbors are coming around to get
acquainted. Next week they are going to give me a “Surprise party”, and I am
wondering who'll get the biggest one. Aunt Hannah has called me to dinner so I’ll
call this off till the next time.
Joe
Cone.
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