Plint

So I wrote a letter to Aunt Phebe, and Plint came over for the chunks of wood, riding back on a load of things we had gathered.

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

She was true to these intuitions of the soul, these thoughts that cover tenderly even the remembrance of a wasted life, and we could not but think that if Plint had not loved cider so well, he might perhaps have developed rare musical talent.

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

He took supper with us, and then father and Ben both went over to his future home with him, and introduced him to Aunt Peg and Plint.

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

Poor Plint was gone, surely enough; dead, "a victim to strong drink and fiddlin '," Aunt Hildy said.

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

His funeral was from the church, for we all respected Aunt Peg and pitied Plint, and Mr. Davis only spoke of God's great mercy and his tenderness to all his flock; never putting a word of endless torment in it.

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

Poor Aunt Peg had great misgivings concerning Plint, and groaned audibly throughout the entire service.

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

"Thank you, mam, it'll be a great help; I have the sideache sometimes, and can't do nothing for a day or so, not even get the wool rolls off my wheel, and that is jist play when I'm smart: he may come neat or not neat, Plint or no Plint," and the bargain was finished, and Matthias

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

Aunt Peg told me she should go to work and clean up the ground-room, and if father had any old "chunks of wood he could spare, Plint could come over and get 'em, and when that new nigger came, there'd be a prospect awaitin '."

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871

"Well, there's that ground room of mine he kin have if Plint is willin ', and if he ain't, for that matter; for Plint himself arn't good for nothin' but fiddlin ', and you see if I want bread I get it.

The Harvest of Years Martha Lewis Beckwith Ewell 1871