From: History of Deerfield, page 166 Submitted by: Joanna Curtis
Joseph was not the most provident man in the world. He was usually out of fire wood, and his hogs were often out of pen. To Polina's complaints about the fuel his usual reply was, "Wall, you just pick up something to-day and I'll get some wood pretty soon." If the hogs got out and overrun house and garden, and she suggested a new fence, the usual reply was, "Wall, you just stick up something to keep 'em in, and I'll fix up the pen when I get time." Polin's patience at length gave out, and her wit came to the Rescue. One day, when the last chip and stick had been "picked up" and burned, she hung the great iron pot on the crane and swung it over the cold hearth stone. Into it, at stated times, went the Indian pudding, the beef, the pork, potatoes, turnips, cabbage, etc., for the usual "boiled dinner". In due time she set the whole on the table and blew the horn for dinner. Joseph, hungry man, made a dive into the pudding, always the first course, and remarks were at once in order. "Why mother! This pud'n's raw's as ever 'twas." "Well, I can't help it; I put it in at nine o'clock." Joseph next attacked the beef. "Why, mother this meat ain't mor'n half done." "I can't help it; I put it in at the usual time." "Why, mother! These 'taters are as hard as stones." "I can't help it, Jo; I put 'em in ----." By this time Jo saw the point. "Well, mother, well, boys, we must tackle up and draw mother some wood. Can't you give us a bite of bread and milk first?" On another occasion - when another lesson was needed - he was summoned from the field by a vigorous blowing of the horn, and told to hurry, wash up and put on his best clothes, for there was "a great lady" waiting in the home to see him. "It isn't the minister's wife," she said, "but I won't tell you who it is - I want to surprise you," - and she did. She quickly put his cue to right and he was soon arranged in his best ruffled shirt, nankeen breeches, with wide metal buckles, white linen hose, low shoes with brass buckles, hastily touched up with grease, and over all his long, yellow "wescut" and butternut colored homespun coat, with bright brass buttons. Polina hovered about, helping as she could, giving hints as to his manners, and hopes that his behavior in the interview would be a credit to them both. With a last touch to his white neckcloth, she escorted him across the entry , opened the parlor door and introduced him to - his old breeding sow, which had walked in and taken possession. Please place in the Subject Line: WEBPAGE-HISTORY 
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