<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416904" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>What Chris'mas Fetched The Wigginses</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wintertime, er Summertime,<br>Of late years I notice I'm,<br>Kindo'-like, more subjec' to<br>What the _weather_ is. Now, you<br>Folks 'at lives in town, I s'pose,<br>Thinks its bully when it snows;<br>But the chap 'at chops and hauls<br>Yer wood fer ye, and then stalls,<br>And snapps tuggs and swingletrees,<br>And then has to walk er freeze,<br>Haint so much 'stuck on' the snow<br>As stuck _in_ it--Bless ye, no!--<br>When its packed, and sleighin's good,<br>And _church_ in the neighborhood,<br>Them 'at's _got_ their girls, I guess,<br>Takes 'em, likely, more er less,<br>Tell the plain facts o' the case,<br>No men-folks about our place<br>On'y me and Pap--and he<br>'Lows 'at young folks' company<br>Allus made him sick! So I<br>Jes don't want, and jes don't try!<br>Chinkypin, the dad-burn town,<br>'S too fur off to loaf aroun'<br>Either day er night--and no<br>Law compellin' me to go!--<br>'Less 'n some Old-Settlers' Day,<br>Er big-doin's thataway--<br>_Then_, to tell the p'inted fac',<br>I've went more so's to come back<br>By old Guthrie's 'still-house, where<br>Minors _has_ got licker there--<br>That's pervidin' we could show 'em<br>Old folks sent fer it from home!<br>Visit roun' the neighbors some,<br>When the boys wants me to come.--<br>Coon-hunt with 'em; er set traps<br>Fer mussrats; er jes, perhaps,<br>Lay in roun' the stove, you know,<br>And parch corn, and let her snow!<br>Mostly, nights like these, you'll be<br>(Ef you' got a writ fer _me_)<br>Ap' to skeer me up, I guess,<br>In about the Wigginses.<br>Nothin' roun' _our_ place to keep<br>Me at home--with Pap asleep<br>'Fore it's dark; and Mother in<br>Mango pickles to her chin;<br>And the girls, all still as death,<br>Piecin' quilts.--Sence I drawed breath<br>Twenty year' ago, and heerd<br>Some girls whispern' so's it 'peared<br>Like they had a row o' pins<br>In their mouth--right there begins<br>My first rickollections, built<br>On that-air blame old piece-quilt!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Summertime, it's jes the same--<br>'Cause I've noticed,--and I claim,<br>As I said afore, I'm more<br>Subjec' to the weather, _shore_,<br>'Proachin' my majority,<br>Than I ever ust to be!<br>Callin' back _last_ Summer, say,--<br>Don't seem hardly past away--<br>With night closin' in, and all<br>S' lonesome-like in the dew-fail:<br>Bats--ad-drat their ugly muggs!--<br>Flickern' by; and lightnin'-bugs<br>Huckstern' roun' the airly night<br>Little sickly gasps o' light;--<br>Whip-poor-wills, like all possessed,<br>Moanin' out their mournfullest;--<br>Frogs and katydids and things<br>Jes clubs in and sings and sings<br>Their _ding-dangdest_!--Stock's all fed,<br>And Pap's washed his feet fer bed;--<br>Mother and the girls all down<br>At the milk-shed, foolin' roun'--<br>No wunder 'at I git blue,<br>And lite out--and so would you!<br>I caint stay aroun' no place<br>Whur they haint no livin' face:--<br>'Crost the fields and thue the gaps<br>Of the hills they's friends, perhaps,<br>Waitin' somers, 'at kin be<br>Kindo' comfertin' to me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Neighbors all 'is plenty good,<br>Scattered thue this neighberhood;<br>Yit, of all, I like to jes<br>Drap in on the Wigginses.--<br>Old man, and old lady too,<br>'Pear-like, makes so much o' you--,<br>Least, they've allus pampered me<br>Like one of the fambily.--<br>The boys, too, 's all thataway--<br>Want you jes to come and stay;--<br>Price, and Chape, and Mandaville,<br>Poke, Chasteen, and 'Catfish Bill'--<br>Poke's the runt of all the rest,<br>But he's jes the beatinest<br>Little schemer, fer fourteen,<br>Anybody ever seen!--<br>'Like his namesake,' old man claims,<br>'Jeems K. Poke, the first o' names!<br>Full o' tricks and jokes--and you<br>Never know what _Poke's_ go' do!'<br>Genius, too, that-air boy is,<br>With them awk'ard hands o' his:<br>Gits this blame pokeberry-juice,<br>Er some stuff, fer ink--and goose-<br>Quill pen-p'ints: And then he'll draw<br>Dogdest pictures yevver saw!<br>Er make deers and eagles good<br>As a writin'-teacher could!<br>Then they's two twin boys they've riz<br>Of old Coonrod Wigginses<br>'At's deceast--and glad of it,<br>'Cause his widder's livin' yit!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Course _the boys_ is mostly jes'<br>Why I go to Wigginses.---<br>Though _Melviney_, sometimes, _she_<br>Gits her slate and algebry<br>And jes' sets there ciphern' thue<br>Sums old Ray hisse'f caint do!--<br>Jes' sets there, and tilts her chair<br>Forreds tel, 'pear-like, her hair<br>Jes' _spills_ in her lap--and then<br>She jes' dips it up again<br>With her hands, as white, I swan,<br>As the apern she's got on!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Talk o' hospitality!--<br>Go to Wigginses with me--<br>Overhet, or froze plum thue,<br>You'll find welcome waitin' you:--<br>Th'ow out yer tobacker 'fore<br>You set foot acrost that floor,--<br>'Got to eat whatever's set--<br>Got to drink whatever's wet!'<br>Old man's sentimuns--them's his---<br>And means jes the best they is!<br>Then he lights his pipe; and she,<br>The old lady, presen'ly<br>She lights her'n; and Chape and Poke.<br>I haint got none, ner don't smoke,--<br>(In the crick afore their door--<br>Sorto so's 'at I'd be shore--<br>Drownded mine one night and says<br>'I won't smoke at _Wigginses_!')<br>Price he's mostly talkin' 'bout<br>Politics, and 'thieves turned out'--<br>What he's go' to be, ef he<br>Ever 'gits there'--and 'we'll see!'--<br>Poke he 'lows they's blame few men<br>Go' to hold their breath tel then!<br>Then Melviney smiles, as she<br>Goes on with her algebry,<br>And the clouds clear, and the room's<br>Sweeter 'n crabapple-blooms!<br>(That Melviney, she' got some<br>Most surprisin' ways, I gum!--<br>Don't 'pear like she ever _says_<br>Nothin', yit you'll _listen_ jes<br>Like she was a-talkin', and<br>Half-way seem to understand,<br>But not quite,--_Poke_ does, I know,<br>'Cause he good as told me so,--<br>Poke's her favo-rite; and he--<br>That is, confidentially--<br>He's _my_ favo-rite--and I<br>Got my whurfore and my why!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I haint never ben no hand<br>Much at talkin', understand,<br>But they's _thoughts_ o' mine 'at's jes<br>Jealous o' them Wigginses!--<br>Gift o' talkin 's what they got,<br>Whether they want to er not--<br>F'r instunce, start the old man on<br>Huntin'-scrapes, 'fore game was gone,<br>'Way back in the Forties, when<br>Bears stold pigs right out the pen,<br>Er went waltzin' 'crost the farm<br>With a bee-hive on their arm!--<br>And--sir, _ping_! the old man's gun<br>Has plumped-over many a one,<br>Firin' at him from afore<br>That-air very cabin-door!<br>Yes--and _painters_, prowlin' 'bout,<br>Allus darkest nights.--Lay out<br>Clost yer cattle.--Great, big red<br>Eyes a-blazin' in their head,<br>Glittern' 'long the timber-line--<br>Shine out some, and then _un_-shine,<br>And shine back--Then, stiddy! whizz!<br>'N there yer Mr. Painter is<br>With a hole bored spang between<br>Them-air eyes! Er start Chasteen,<br>Say, on blooded racin'-stock,<br>Ef you want to hear him talk;<br>Er tobacker--how to raise,<br>Store, and k-yore it, so's she pays:<br>The old lady--and she'll cote<br>Scriptur' tel she'll git yer vote!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Prove to you 'at wrong is right,<br>Jes as plain as black is white:<br>Prove when you're asleep in bed<br>You're a-standin' on yer head,<br>And yer train 'at's goin' West,<br>'S goin' East its level best;<br>And when bees dies, it's their wings<br>Wears out--and a thousand things!<br>And the boys is 'chips,' you know;<br>'Off the old block'--So I go<br>To the Wigginses, 'cause--jes<br>'Cause I _like_ the Wigginses--<br>Even ef Melviney _she_<br>Hardly 'pears to notice me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rid to Chinkypin this week--<br>Yisterd'y.--No snow to speak<br>Of, and didn't have no sleigh<br>Anyhow; so, as I say,<br>I rid in--and froze one ear<br>And both heels--and I don't keer!--<br>'Mother and the girls kin jes<br>Bother 'bout their Chris'mases<br>_Next_ time fer _theirse'vs_, I jack!'<br>Thinks-says-I, a-startin' back,--<br>Whole durn meal-bag full of things<br>Wrapped in paper-sacks, and strings<br>Liable to snap their holt<br>Jes at any little jolt!<br>That in front o' me, and _wind_<br>With _nicks_ in it, 'at jes skinned<br>Me alive!--I'm here to say<br>Nine mile' hossback thataway<br>Would a-walked my log! But, as<br>Somepin' allus comes to pass,<br>As I topped old Guthrie's hill.<br>Saw a buggy, front the 'Still,<br>P'inted home'ards, and a thin<br>Little chap jes climbin' in.<br>Six more minutes I were there<br>On the groun's'--And course it were--<br>It were little Poke--and he<br>Nearly fainted to see me!--<br>'You ben in to Chinky, too?'<br>'Yes; and go' ride back with you,'<br>I-says-I. He he'pped me find<br>Room fer my things in behind--<br>Stript my hoss's reins down, and<br>Put his mitt' on the right hand<br>So's to lead--'Pile in!' says he,<br>'But you 've struck pore company!'<br>Noticed he was pale--looked sick,<br>Kindo-like, and had a quick<br>Way o' flickin' them-air eyes<br>0' his roun' 'at didn't size<br>Up right with his usual style--<br>s' I, 'You well?' He tried to smile,<br>But his chin shuck and tears come.--<br>'_I've run 'Viney 'way from home_!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Don't know jes what all occurred<br>Next ten seconds--Nary word,<br>But my heart jes drapt, stobbed thue,<br>And whirlt over and come to.--<br>Wrenched a big quart bottle from<br>That fool-boy!--and cut my thumb<br>On his little fiste-teeth--helt<br>Him snug in one arm, and felt<br>That-air little heart o' his<br>Churn the blood o' Wigginses<br>Into that old bead 'at spun<br>Roun' her, spilt at Lexington!<br>His k'niptions, like enough,<br>He'pped us both,--though it was rough--<br>Rough on him, and rougher on<br>Me when last his nerve was gone,<br>And he laid there still, his face<br>Fishin' fer some hidin'-place<br>Jes a leetle lower down<br>In my breast than he 'd yit foun'!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last I kindo' soothed him, so's<br>He could talk.--And what you s'pose<br>Them-air revelations of<br>Poke's was? . . . He'd ben writin' love-<br>Letters to Melviney, and<br>Givin her to understand<br>They was from 'a young man who<br>Loved her,' and--'the violet's blue<br>'N sugar's sweet'--and Lord knows what!<br>Tel, 'peared-like, Melviney got<br>S' interested in 'the young<br>Man,' Poke _he_ says, 'at she brung<br>A' answer onc't fer him to take,<br>Statin' 'she'd die fer his sake,'<br>And writ fifty xs 'fer<br>Love-kisses fer him from her!'<br>I was standin' in the road<br>By the buggy, all I knowed<br>When Poke got that fer.--'That's why,'<br>Poke says, 'I 'fessed up the lie--<br>_Had_ to--'cause I see,' says he,<br>''Viney was in airnest--she<br>Cried, too, when I told her.--Then<br>She swore me, and smiled again,<br>And got Pap and Mother to<br>Let me hitch and drive her thue<br>Into Chinkypin, to be<br>At Aunt 'Rindy's Chris'mas-tree--<br>That's to-night.' Says I, 'Poke--durn<br>Your lyin' soul!--'s that beau o' hern--<br>That--_she_--loves--Does _he_ live in<br>That hellhole o' Chinkypin?'<br>'No,' says Poke, 'er 'Viney would<br>Went some _other_ neighborhood.'<br>'Who _is_ the blame whelp?' says I.<br>'Promised 'Viney, hope I'd die<br>Ef I ever told!' says Poke,<br>Pittiful and jes heart-broke--<br>''Sides that's why she left the place,--<br>'She caint look him in the face<br>Now no more on earth!' she says.--'<br>And the child broke down and jes<br>Sobbed! Says I, 'Poke, I p'tend<br>T' be _your_ friend, and your _Pap's_ friend,<br>And your _Mother's_ friend, and all<br>The _boys_' friend, little, large and small--<br>The _whole fambily's_ friend--and you<br>Know that means _Melviney_, too.--<br>Now--you hush yer troublin!'--I'm<br>Go' to he'p friends ever' time--<br>On'y in _this_ case, _you_ got<br>To he'p _me_--and, like as not<br>I kin he'p Melviney then,<br>And we'll have her home again.<br>And now, Poke, with your consent,<br>I'm go' go to that-air gent<br>She's in love with, and confer<br>With _him_ on his views o' _her_.--<br>Blast him! give the man _some_ show.--<br>Who is he?--_I'm go' to know_!'<br>Somepin' struck the little chap<br>Funny, 'peared-like.--Give a slap<br>On his leg--laughed thue the dew<br>In his eyes, and says: 'It's you!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, and--'cordin' to the last<br>Love-letters of ours 'at passed<br>Thue his hands--we was to be<br>Married Chris'mas.--'Gee-mun-_nee_!<br>Poke,' says I, 'it's _suddent_--yit<br>We _kin_ make it! You're to git<br>Up tomorry, say, 'bout _three_--<br>Tell your folks you're go' with me:--<br>We'll hitch up, and jes drive in<br>'N take the town o' Chinkypin!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Whitcomb+Riley">James Whitcomb Riley</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416904" data-title="What Chris'mas Fetched The Wigginses de James Whitcomb Riley" data-description="Wintertime, er Summertime, Of late years I notice I'm, Kindo'-like, more subjec' to What the _weather_ is. Now, you Folks 'at lives in town, I s'pose, Thinks its bully when it snows; But the chap 'at chops and hauls Yer wood fer ye, and then stall..."></div> </div> </div>

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