Free The Diary Of Mattie Spenser by Sandra Dallas Page A

“prairie cake.” I don’t like it so much as chocolate, but it was a light and dainty cake, nonetheless.
    We opened our service with prayer. Then all enjoyed the singing of hymns, and I noticed many a wet eye when “The Old Rugged Cross” was finished. There were calls for old favorites, even “Silent Night.” Moses, who accompanied us on the dulcimer, suggested “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” with a glance at the Rebel couple, who stiffened. Luke replied that the selection, being a patriotic song, was not a proper Sabbath choice, thus avoiding a renewed conflict between North and South, which, due to sheer numbers, the North would have won again. Moses then proposed “Turkey in the Straw.” Luke gave him a stern look, although I thought ’twas funny and nearly laughed out loud. Moses is a cheerful boy, and I think I like him better than his brother, who is a very sober fellow.
    As Luke was the host and he is a general favorite, he was asked to sermonize. When he began, the women took out knitting and mending (one brought a pair of drawers that needed repair), for hands are not idle here. I picked up my piecing and was glad for it, as Luke spoke for a very long time, not pausing until the little Garfield boy said, “The preach sure comes out of that man.” Even Luke had to smile at the remark, and he quickly ended his sermon.
    Luke wore the shirt I made for his birthday. Mrs. Garfield, who is a true Southern woman in her flirtatiousness (though I don’t mind, because jealousy is not in my nature), told him it was as handsome a shirt as she ever saw, and Luke puffed out his chest like a rooster, not stopping to think he was preening for the wife of a Rebel. I learned this about my husband that day: He is vain. But I suppose any man as handsome as Luke has the right to be.
    Whilst the men talked after service, the women set the dinner upon the table, each putting out the tin plates she had brought with her, for no one here is expected to have enough dishes to serve guests. Utensils, too, being rare, were provided by the guests. Miss Figg says she has only two forks, and she prizes them so highly that she has given them names—Samuel and Little Pete.
    Mrs. Himmel ran her hand over my good Delft plate, as if it were made of solid gold, and Mrs. Osterwald whispered she could not even touch the pillow or cigar silks that Carrie made me, for fear of snagging its delicate threads with her rough hands. I was much pleased with their kind remarks over my possessions, and I had to chide myself for pridefulness on the Sabbath. I have been repaid for it with the discovery that one of my silver spoons is missing. I cannot believe any of the Sabbath worshipers would have taken it, so I conclude it fell upon the ground and will be recovered one day.
    We all joined in and ate until there was nothing left. The chocolate cake that was my contribution disappeared first and was pronounced tasty by all who partook. The Earley brothers said they had not tasted chocolate since moving to Colorado Territory. All agreed it was a splendid event and that we would set aside one Sunday of each month to worship together.
    September 22, 1865. Prairie Home.
    Luke and I were in the field when of a sudden we saw a rider making haste toward us. Luke recognized him as Mr. Osterwald, who, as soon as he was in shouting distance, yelled, “Indians! Indians are coming!” Luke and I ran for the portal, where our weapons are kept, intending to make our stand there. But when he had calmed himself, Mr. Osterwald told us Indians were not following behind him but had been seen, painted for war, east of here. He said we were to get out of the country at once and go to Mingo, where all the folks were gathering.
    A farmer on his way to Mingo had spied the Red Men whilst taking his rest. He hid in a ditch until the brutes were gone, then made his way to a homestead. Whose farm it was, he did not know, only that the Indians had been there ahead of him and