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Literary
December 29, 1933
The Harlem News
Harlem, Blaine County, Montana
What is this article about?
Six-year-old Peggy questions her aunt Josephine Lawlor about marriage, sparking memories of a lost love. While holding Peggy during a choir's hymn practice, Josephine reflects on waiting faithfully. The hymn's 'lamp well trimmed and burning' echoes her habit of early lighting her lamp. Her long-lost sweetheart, a stranger at the rehearsal, notices and reunites with her joyfully.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
SIX-YEAR-OLD Peggy dug her bare brown toes into the cool green dampness of the grass where the dew was beginning to gather. "Auntie Jo, why n't you get you a husband?" she asked of the woman who was reading on the porch above her. "If you did I could have a really truly uncle like the rest of the girls and boys in our crowd. Didn't you ever know anybody that wanted to be your husband? Didn't you ever think about getting married?"
Josephine Lawlor came down to where her niece was playing in the grass, to stem the tide of eager questions.
"Peggy, of course there are men I would like to marry. Don't you worry about getting an uncle. Maybe some day I'll surprise you. And now there are some good cookies in the big stone jar in the kitchen," she said, "don't you want some?" The handful of cookies succeeded in diverting the thoughts of Peggy with regard to her aunt's amorous adventures, and when she returned with the cookies, she curled up in the porch hammock and soon was off to sleep. But she had started the train of forbidden memories for her aunt.
In the lot at one side of the house a baseball game was in progress; but as darkness fell it resolved into blindman's buff, crack the whip and a general melee. Lights appeared in the windows of the other houses on the street and in the little church across from Miss Lawlor's home, the choir had met for practice for the Sunday services.
Josephine could hear the voices singing a familiar hymn-"My Redeemer and My Lord." Through the open windows of the church came the familiar strains and she listened reverently as she took her small niece in her arms. Then the spell was broken by a voice from across the street.
Peggy's mother called for her daughter.
Josephine's voice was carefully pitched as she answered her sister's call-"Let her stay with me tonight. She's asleep now." She held the warm little body close and gave herself up completely to the memories that sometimes would not be denied. Swiftly before her eyes was unfolded that pageant of long-gone dreams. Once she had thought about a husband and about marrying. About holding her own child as she now held her niece.
No wonder Peggy had asked. For Peggy had never known that gay lad whose gray eyes laughed into Aunt Jo's darker ones. Peggy had never heard that deep and tender voice that had sounded as none other in Josephine Lawlor's ears. Peggy did not know what it meant to find one's heart's desire only to lose it.
Over and over again the choir sang the familiar lines of the anthem. Vaguely Miss Lawlor noted the constant repetition, but she did not know that the song was being repeated at the request of a stranger who had dropped into the rehearsal with the choir director and professed a special pleasure in that particular song.
Through years of waiting in the inevitable shiftings of the sands of time. Through change of scene and loss and gain in friends and family, Josephine Lawlor had stayed-waiting. Not she to forget, to find solace in a lesser love even if the best were gone forever.
Though the long-ago sweetheart knew not where to find her now, she still waited for him. And kept her light burning in the window. Even six-year-old Peggy knew the oddity of Aunt Jo's lamp that was always the first to flash through the twilight of evening.
The choir voices rose to a last crescendo "with my lamp well trimmed and burning!" The organ rumbled out the final chord. The lights flickered out as the choir members slipped through the vestry and out to the porch and walk.
The stranger strolled into the street and stood looking about. A gleam of orange light slanted from the house next door and struck across his face.
"Who lives there?" he idly asked his host.
"Queer sort of dame," was the reply. "Sorta cracked, most everybody thinks. Came here to live near her brother several years ago; just after the war, I guess. I don't remember just when, as it's been some years back and I wasn't home at the time. She has a funny habit of lighting her lamp every night sooner than anyone in the neighborhood. Harmless, she is at that. May be I shouldn't have called her that. Jim Hargraves, her brother-in-law, would break every bone in my body if he heard me"
"Hargraves!" the stranger leaped the hedge at a bound, and sped across the grass, now wet and sparkling in the moonlight with the heavy dew, to where a woman sat in the radiance of the yellow lampshade, a half-awake child sliding from her lap.
"Mummie," said Peggy, as she crept up the steps of her own porch a few minutes later. "I bet Aunt Jo's going to get a husband There's a man over to her house, an' he's got her in his arms an' she's laughin' an' cryin' like everythin all at once. He'd be an uncle for me, wouldn't he?"
Josephine Lawlor came down to where her niece was playing in the grass, to stem the tide of eager questions.
"Peggy, of course there are men I would like to marry. Don't you worry about getting an uncle. Maybe some day I'll surprise you. And now there are some good cookies in the big stone jar in the kitchen," she said, "don't you want some?" The handful of cookies succeeded in diverting the thoughts of Peggy with regard to her aunt's amorous adventures, and when she returned with the cookies, she curled up in the porch hammock and soon was off to sleep. But she had started the train of forbidden memories for her aunt.
In the lot at one side of the house a baseball game was in progress; but as darkness fell it resolved into blindman's buff, crack the whip and a general melee. Lights appeared in the windows of the other houses on the street and in the little church across from Miss Lawlor's home, the choir had met for practice for the Sunday services.
Josephine could hear the voices singing a familiar hymn-"My Redeemer and My Lord." Through the open windows of the church came the familiar strains and she listened reverently as she took her small niece in her arms. Then the spell was broken by a voice from across the street.
Peggy's mother called for her daughter.
Josephine's voice was carefully pitched as she answered her sister's call-"Let her stay with me tonight. She's asleep now." She held the warm little body close and gave herself up completely to the memories that sometimes would not be denied. Swiftly before her eyes was unfolded that pageant of long-gone dreams. Once she had thought about a husband and about marrying. About holding her own child as she now held her niece.
No wonder Peggy had asked. For Peggy had never known that gay lad whose gray eyes laughed into Aunt Jo's darker ones. Peggy had never heard that deep and tender voice that had sounded as none other in Josephine Lawlor's ears. Peggy did not know what it meant to find one's heart's desire only to lose it.
Over and over again the choir sang the familiar lines of the anthem. Vaguely Miss Lawlor noted the constant repetition, but she did not know that the song was being repeated at the request of a stranger who had dropped into the rehearsal with the choir director and professed a special pleasure in that particular song.
Through years of waiting in the inevitable shiftings of the sands of time. Through change of scene and loss and gain in friends and family, Josephine Lawlor had stayed-waiting. Not she to forget, to find solace in a lesser love even if the best were gone forever.
Though the long-ago sweetheart knew not where to find her now, she still waited for him. And kept her light burning in the window. Even six-year-old Peggy knew the oddity of Aunt Jo's lamp that was always the first to flash through the twilight of evening.
The choir voices rose to a last crescendo "with my lamp well trimmed and burning!" The organ rumbled out the final chord. The lights flickered out as the choir members slipped through the vestry and out to the porch and walk.
The stranger strolled into the street and stood looking about. A gleam of orange light slanted from the house next door and struck across his face.
"Who lives there?" he idly asked his host.
"Queer sort of dame," was the reply. "Sorta cracked, most everybody thinks. Came here to live near her brother several years ago; just after the war, I guess. I don't remember just when, as it's been some years back and I wasn't home at the time. She has a funny habit of lighting her lamp every night sooner than anyone in the neighborhood. Harmless, she is at that. May be I shouldn't have called her that. Jim Hargraves, her brother-in-law, would break every bone in my body if he heard me"
"Hargraves!" the stranger leaped the hedge at a bound, and sped across the grass, now wet and sparkling in the moonlight with the heavy dew, to where a woman sat in the radiance of the yellow lampshade, a half-awake child sliding from her lap.
"Mummie," said Peggy, as she crept up the steps of her own porch a few minutes later. "I bet Aunt Jo's going to get a husband There's a man over to her house, an' he's got her in his arms an' she's laughin' an' cryin' like everythin all at once. He'd be an uncle for me, wouldn't he?"
What sub-type of article is it?
Prose Fiction
What themes does it cover?
Love Romance
What keywords are associated?
Lost Love
Reunion
Waiting
Lamp Symbol
Niece Questions
Hymn Choir
Literary Details
Key Lines
"With My Lamp Well Trimmed And Burning!"
"Mummie," Said Peggy, As She Crept Up The Steps Of Her Own Porch A Few Minutes Later. "I Bet Aunt Jo's Going To Get A Husband There's A Man Over To Her House, An' He's Got Her In His Arms An' She's Laughin' An' Cryin' Like Everythin All At Once. He'd Be An Uncle For Me, Wouldn't He?"