“‘How’s times?’ says I.
“‘Good!’ says he — the proprietor.
“Then I tackled him fer his subscripshun.
“‘Times is too hard,’ says he, ‘I’ve just bought a lot in Chicago an’ I can’t pay no ten dollars on no bond, nohow. If they wants five dollars o’ my little savin’s, they can have it.’
“I were so disgustid that I left him an’ went inter a hardware store an’ bought an ounce o’ nails.
“‘How’s times?’ says I.
“‘Good,’ says he.
“‘Are you goin’ to pay up on that bond?’ says I, careless like.
“‘Not much,’ says the gentlemanly proprietor, ‘it’s all right to sign a bond, cause it makes you solid with the people, but when it comes to payin’ it, it’s another act. The Lord didn’t want no fair grounds and so the wind blew ‘em down.’
“Well, I left the cuss an’ come away, an’ made up my mind that I wouldn’t enquire no further. But I guess there’s enough outsiders as’ll chip in to make up fer the chumps as won’t pay.”
“You interest yourself too much in other people’s business,” said the doctor, quietly, “to be very popular. A good many of your criticisms have leaked out, someway, and if you ever hope to change your name, you will have to be more careful.”
“Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed our landlady, “if folks don’t like my style they needn’t listen to me. I’ve got to keep busy somehow, an’ this ‘ere boardin’ house don’t fully occupy my time. An’ you’ll find I’m pretty near right, too. As fer gettin’ married agin, I’m losin’ all hopes. The young folks is all a pairin’ off an’ leavin’ no feller fer me. There’s goin’ ter be four bran’ new weddin’s in October, an’ as soon as the weather gits cooler I s’pose there’ll be a lot more. The goose quill kiss has accomplished its purpose and is going out o’ fashion. When a gal goes to a picnic now, she just takes her goose quill along so’s her ma won’t suspect nothin’, but I never see one as was wore out yit. But that ain’t none o’ my business. If the young folks can’t enjoy theirselves, what’s the use o’ bein’ bom? Only it makes me sad to think how soon they’ll all be marred off, fer then even kissin’ won’t delay a feller when he starts off to town at midnight fer a bottle o’ soothin’ syrup. It’s the way o’ the world, an’ I agree with Shookspear when he says:
‘Go it folks while yer young,
Fer when ye git old ye can’t.’”
She gives a Picnic to the Boarders and Writes a Proclamation
23 August 1890
“Now this,” observed our landlady, as she sat in the shade of her parasol and an enormous tree fully six feet high, and watched the festive Jim meander sluggishly at her feet like the slowly welling leak in a bucket of dishwater, “this is what I calls rusticatin’. When I invited you boarders to this here picnic, I intended you should enjoy all the delights of natur’. No one sighs fer the seashore when on a stream of this size you can see shore on both sides o’ it — excuse me, colonel, ain’t you well?”
“He has simply fainted,” returned the doctor, gravely, as he fanned the veteran gently with his straw hat. “Perhaps he might be restored if we had a bottle of — ”
“Tom, fetch out that bottle of birch beer,” interrupted our landlady with an alarmed look.
“I’m afraid that birch beer — ”
“Oh, don’t you worry. As Narregang says, ‘what’s in a name?’ The Kernel won’t kick on the contents.”
The colonel didn’t. He took a hearty draught and was himself again.
“It strikes me,” said Tom, who was endeavoring to find a place to drop his brand-new fish-line, “that the first thing to do at a picnic is to eat.”
“A capital suggestion,” said the doctor, approvingly. “I suppose, Mrs. Bilkins, that you did not forget the eatables?”
“Not much. Now colonel, look lively, fetch over that big basket — not that one — that’s only fer show.
“O’ course, we four peoples couldn’t eat a barrel o’ truck, but I didn’t want the neighbors to think I was stingy, an’ so I brung all the baskets I had in the house. Here, Tom, jest take the pickles out o’ that custard, an’ doc, you set them bottles in the water to cool, an’ Kumel, see if you can scrape the butter off’en that cocoanut cake, while I spread the table cloth and pick the boiled eggs out of the sandwiches. — That’s the stuff — pitch in, boys! don’t be afraid — I won’t punch yer tickets fer this ‘ere meal — it’s my treat. Doc, a little more beer — — ahem! birch beer, I mean, — thanks. Now, fellers, ain’t this jest glorious?” No one replied, but each one was so busily occupied that Mrs. Bilkins seemed to consider an answer superfluous.
Finally the meal ended, and the boarders lit their cigars and lay under the shade of the saplings, while Mrs. Bilkins sat on the edge of the bank and drew forth her pencil and note-book.
“What are you writing,” asked the colonel, after watching her silently for awhile.
“Oh jest a proclamation.”
“A proclamation?”
“Fer Bob Moody. He kinder run short of ideas an’ asked me to help him out.”
“What’s it about?” inquired Tom.
“Well, if you won’t tell, I’ll read it to ye. But you mustn’t give it away, because he hain’t signed it yit, an’ until he does it ain’t public property.”
“Oh, we won’t say a word.”
“Then listen:
“‘Gen’l Orders number ‘steen.
“‘Mayor’s orfise. To ther sitizens uv this here burgh. As it hez comed to my nolidge that certin bad, wicked people hev bin in the habit ov meetin at houses and playin sech sinful games as progressiv uker and drive whisht, which aint either progressin or drivin the road to desency an public order, I thearfore, bein duely elected by frank hagerty, and the other sitizens of this hear town, do forbid, now an forever and ever, amen, sich unlawfull doins in the fucher. An playin marbels and tag in the public streets, and all uther gamblin except in stocks and morgages is hearby strictly prohibitid. For, havin witnessed the grate success of the Sabbath day, I propoas to have every day Sabbath in this hear town, so as my administrashun wil be appresheated by all free and liberal minded citizens.’”
“That won’t do,” said Tom, decidedly, “it’s carrying the thing too far. He’ll think you’re guying him.”
“No, I think he’ll like it. There’s two ways to become famous — one’s by bein’ very bad, an’ the other’s by bein’ very good. Now, it ain’t in Bob to be very bad, an’ yit he wants to git famous. An’ if he’ll jest continue his policy by addin’ mine to it he’ll have the biggest name o’ any mayor in South Dikoty, an’ the ministers’ll have to preach seven days in the week to keep the people okipied. But then — ”
A horrible occurrence cut short our landlady’s explanation. The bank on which she was sitting caved in suddenly and precipitated her violently into the placid bosom of the Jim. With a shout that was half grief and half joy, the boarders came to her rescue, and fished her, limp and dripping, from the impromptu bath.
“Now,” said the colonel, as he assisted her into the wagon, “you know what a cold water administration is.”
“Yes,” replied our landlady with a shiver, but a twinkle in her eye, as she wrapped the table-cloth about her damp form, “but it didn’t need that illustration to show me I didn’t like it. But this ain’t no time to talk politics. Drive on, doctor, an’ if you don’t want Goodes to sell a twelve dollar coffin, drive like blazes!”
She Attends the Convention and is Disgusted with Politics
30 August 1890
“Well, I declare,” exclaimed our landlady, as she opened the dining room door in time to catch Tom dancing with the hired girl, while the colonel beat time on the bottom of a tea-tray, and the doctor sat perched upon the side-board whistling the heel and toe; “well I declare if ye ain’t worse nor a lot o’ delegates!”
The colonel threw the tray under the table with a bang; the hired girl fl
ew into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her, while the doctor slid gracefully from the side-board, and Tom with a red face and an embarrassed look sat down carelessly in the bread-pan full of “sponge,” which stood upon a chair.
“Home from Mitchell?” inquired the doctor, in his best off-hand manner.
“No!” snapped our landlady, “I’m there yet.” And she proceded to hang up her hat and shawl, after which she opened the kitchen door and informed the girl that “she’d give her half an hour to pack up her duds an’ quit these diggin’s.”
The colonel winked at the doctor, the doctor winked at Tom, and Tom scraped the dough off the seat of his pants with a thoughtful air.
“Did you attend the equal rights convention?” inquired the colonel, pleasantly, when Mrs. Bilkins seemed to have regained her equanimity.
“Equal rights nuthin’!” retorted our landlady, “their meetin’ was a second- class affair. You see Doc. Coyne got a fair-haired patient soon after he got there that kep’ him busy, so I got his proxy an’ swung with the Brown county delegation. Didn’t we have a time though? Well I guess! The delegates from all the other counties was tied together with strings, an’ ole Pettigrew he had the ends o’ all the strings tied to his suspenders. An’ Brown county delegates was all tied with one string too, an’ every feller he thought he had hold o’ the end o’ the string. An’ a fine circus it was. When anyone axed us what we wanted we yelled ‘the yearth!’ an’ then the band would play ‘Never no never no more.’
“‘We’ve got this thing in our own hands,’ says Dan Shields, ‘an’ we mean to keep it.’ An’ so they let us keep it.
“‘Let’s get on the band wagon,’ says I.
“‘That’s where we are,’ says Frank Brown, but somehow the other fellers didn’t come our way, an’ the Sessions axle grease clogged our wheels so’s the vehicle wouldn’t move. It’s all right; we got what we deserved, but if Brown county had a’ whittled a lot o’ men outer a pine block they would a been jest as good.”
“The result should teach us to aspire to unity in our own ranks,” remarked the colonel, grimly.
“It should teach us to keep outer politics,” retorted Mrs. Bilkins. “Brown county weren’t needed in that convention. We might o’ stayed to hum an’ saved our money. When we’re such fools as ter buck agin’ the powers that be, an’ get in the soup, it’s time to begin playin’ checkers an’ leave politics alone. But I hear you’ve had an elopement while I was gone.”
“Yes, a quiet one.”
“It’s quite romantic. It makes a person think o’ Pyramid an’ Thisbee. An’ so I’ve writ a stanza on it as follers:
“When Cholly saw ‘Stel
In love he fell,
An’ swore she was wuth havin’.
So he took her away
To Columb-i-a,
An’ now she’s Missus Gavin.”
She returns from her Vacation and Visits the Fair
20 September 1890
“Yes,” remarked our landlady, as she gathered up the watermelon rinds to make sweet pickles of and the seeds to plant in the spring, “you can bet I’m glad to get home agin. This goin’-a-visitin’ ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. You see I visited my sister in Eurekie, and had to do all the housework and take care of three babies besides, an’ so, arter three weeks of hard work I decided to come home an’ take a rest.”
“Have you attended the fair?” inquired Tom, as he pinned two Wolsey badges together and used them for a necktie.
“You bet! I went Wen’sday, that were women’s day, although the women goes most every day so’s there’ll be some one to wear Pierre badges. The children got away with a good many Pierre badges, too, so Huron needn’t think her badges is the only ones there is wored.”
“How did you enjoy the races?” asked the colonel lighting a Pierre cigar. “Fust class. But the most soul inspirin’ thing was the tight-rope act. Well sir, would you believe it, that feller actually walked backwards on a tight rope, a good ten foot from the ground! — an’ all he had to keep him from failin’ was a long pole that he could touch the ground with if he didn’t happen to balance all right. An’ then he sot right down on that rope an’ staid there until he got his breath. An’ then he tried to git up an’ couldn’t. An’ the crowd yelled to encourage him. An’ then he wiped his brow on his costume and kissed his hand an’ tried it again. An’ the crowd yelled so that he finally got up. An’ after that he slid down inter a trapeze and hung on by his toes while he picked grass with his teeth. If he’d been a taller man he’d a bumped his head. This feller had more hair-breadth escapes to the square inch than a man would who eat reglar at Ward’s. The sight was sickenin’ in its awe-inspirin’ grandeur. Many of the ladies turned away their heads to avoid seein’ him tear up the yearth with his nose, but I was so hoaror-struck that I couldn’t take my eyes off’n him. Well, at last he took hold of the ground and let go with his feet, an’ the whole crowd heaved a sigh of relief, for they knew then as he was safe.
“Sam Vroom said he wouldn’t done it fer ten dollars an’ a baby, because it would a disarranged his front hair so. But it was a great fair an’ no mistake. Colonel, you’re too near the stove, your coat is burnin’.”
“No,” said the colonel, “it’s my cigar. Did you hear Miss Anthony speak?”
“I tried to, but she didn’t seem to have much to say ‘cause she’s said it so many times already. An’ the boys kep’ yellin”has she came?’ an’ then the crowd would yell ‘not yet!’ in reply. But some of the Reverend ladies panned out all right. Things was so mixed up that I didn’t know when I got home whether I was a woman-suffrage-anti-Pierre-prohibition-jack-pot woman, or a anti-rights-anti-Huron-anti-up-anti-prohibition-anti-boodle-all- wool-an’-a-yard-wide politician; but judgin’ from my conglomerated feelin’s I guess I was.”
“Have you kissed the baby?” inquired the doctor, solicitously.
“Not yet, but unless this round of dissipation comes to a bust pretty soon there won’t be nothin’ else left to do. Between the fair and the operar, an’ Doc. Fowler’s weddin’ an’ Jay Paulhamuses last diamond ring, Aberdeen folks is gettin’ pretty near rattled, an’ nothin’ but a rise in wheat will bring ‘em to their sober senses.”
She Discusses Timely Topics and Criticises some Aberdeen People
4 October 1890
“The people of Aberdeen,” said our landlady, as she set the pumpkin pie on the sideboard and placed a piece of poison fly paper over it to protect it, “are different from most any people I ever seed. This’ ere is a western community, but the people are lots more effeeter here than they are in the yeast. When a man looses a penny through a hole in his pocket he goes an’ gits it sowed up so’s it won’t happen agin. When a boy looses anything through a hole in his pocket, he sets down and cries. Now Aberdeen folks is jest like that boy.”
“Mrs. Bilkins,” remarked the doctor, laying down his paper and wiping his spectacles complacently, “you are speaking in parables and I, for one, do not comprehend the tenor of your remarks.”
“I don’t care whether my remarks is tenor or bass,” snapped our landlady, as she wiped the butter knife on her apron and placed it on the dish; “what I says is gospel truth, and you’ll find it out! Why, here we are in the very flower garden o’ the yearth. Here we are in a country where the sile is richer and deeper than in any other part of Ameriky; where the poor eastern farmers have found peace and plenty, where the bankrupt eastern merchant has found a good trade and a good livin’; where clerks has blossomed into store-keepers and penny-ante men into bankers, an’ convicks inter lawyers, an’ salvation army dodgers inter ministers, an’ roustabouts inter real estate and loan agents. An’ they all fell inter soft snaps an’ thought as they was great men in disguise, an’ they’d never let their neighbors know the truth about the matter. Everything they had they owed to good crops an’ when the crops went back on ‘em they was a pitiful sight. They howl, an’ they kick, an’ they scream; an’ say they’l
l quit the blasted country an’ the Lord forgive ‘em for ever comin’ here — forgittin’ all the time that if they hadn’t come they’d probably starved to death ‘afore now!”
“I think, Mrs. Bilkins,” broke in the colonel, “that your remarks are too general. There may be some such as you mention but I am sure you recognize the fact that there are still many good and true men in Aberdeen,” and he twisted his moustache and looked at her appealingly from out his eagle eye.
Our landlady was not proof against the handsome colonel’s fascinations. She drew the back of her hand politely across her nose, smoothed her back hair dreamily, and stirred up the omelet with the stove hook and a coyly unconscious air as she replied:
“No, I know there is good men here — but they ain’t very plenty, and what there is ain’t got the pluck to take the hard times by the neck an’ choke ‘em off as they’d orter. They set down an’ groan an’ say they wish Aberdeen had some men to boom things the way Sioux Falls is doin’ an’ all the time fergetin’ that they is the men to do it an’ that they CAN do it if they wanter, an’ that even today Aberdeen is capable of havin’ a bigger boom than any other city in the state if her people would only let capital fights an’ foreign investments alone, and use the means of prosperity that are layin’ idle at their hands. If only every man would say ‘I will do suthin” instead o’ sayin”why don’t somebody else do suthin’?’ times would change mighty quick.”
“You speak with deep feeling, ma’am,” said Tom, fishing a collar button out of his sauce and putting it carefully in his vest pocket; “Do you know, Mrs. Bilkins, that the best hold you have upon your boarders is ministering to their curiosity? One never knows what he will discover next! It’s like a lottery.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 806